Carrie Minberg, Female, 19

	- Narrator, freshman / rising sophomore at Bitterwood

	- Beige, freckled skin, 5'6, 145lbs, curly back-length dark-red or blue hair

Elise, Female, 19

	- Freshman / rising sophomore at Bitterwood, Norwegian

	- Pale golden skin, 5'10, 155lbs, shoulder-length light blonde hair

Lawton, Male, 20

	- College freshman / rising sophomore at Texas Tech

	- Beige skin, 5'11, 240lbs, unkempt neck-length brown hair

The two weeks apart from Elise was easier than I expected, most of it. Time flew by, even though I never heard from her the entire time. Mom was sad to know how short I was staying, but she made the most of it and took time off work to go to the beach and entertain me.

During the second week, my life took an unexpected turn. I spotted Lawton at the grocery store. He didn't see me, and I almost ran. I felt so stupid, like a child. Why would I avoid him? Why wouldn't I want to catch up with the young man I once loved so deeply. I tested my feelings, found myself stronger than I thought I was, and I approached him.

“Hi Lawton.”

He turned slowly, stared at me, broke a small smile, “Carrie. So good to see you... I've missed you.” He hugged me and before I knew it, his lips were on mine. I let him kiss me, didn't pull back, it felt so natural to just sink into his arms and let him consume me.

Lawton was the one that broke our kiss, smiling. “How have you been, Sweetie? Been months since you've so much as sent me a letter. Make friends over there?”

I took a step back, not yet considering the weight of our kiss, told him some of the highlights, skipped over the sexual details, and got the same from him.

Then it got awkward when I asked him, “any girlfriends? Any fun while you were at Tech?”

He looked confused a moment, said, “I... I waited for you... so... no...”

I was stunned, hadn't expected that, hated that I'd never thought he believed I'd come back to him just like that, nothing changed. “Lawton... I...”

“What... what is it? You have a boyfriend? That it?” He wasn't angry, but I knew he was hurt already.

“No, no... not like that... I... I didn't expect you to wait for me... that's all...”

“Oh.” He was sullen, an emotion that was new on his face. I missed his smile already, and I felt badly for causing him to feel low. He said quietly, “I... well, I didn't know if... if you'd want to... be with me... again... So, I didn't want to hurt it by... by being with someone else. I hoped that would matter.”

I wanted to scream at him, then, angry. The implicit slut-shaming, that someone, male or female, who was sexual was any less desirable than someone who 'waited.' I hated that sentiment, and I suppose a part of me felt long-lost pangs of shame for being sexually active and liking it. I thought I'd gotten rid of that at Bitterwood, but the shivers of guilt weren't buried so deep after all.

Instead I said nothing a moment, tried to collect my thoughts. A very small voice was all I managed, “well... you didn't have to... I wanted you to be happy...”

“I'm happy when I'm with you, Carrie. I thought you knew that.”

“Lawton...”

He walked away and I did my best not to cry. I felt horrible. I'd crushed him. He knew only in that moment there was no second chance for us. I left my basket in the aisle and left the store, only letting the tears slide down once I was home, drinking a bottle of wine with Mom.

- - -

I made it worse, much worse. Not intentionally, not at first. I wanted desperately to mend my friendship with Lawton. He'd been so important to me, still the only man that I've ever really loved, my first in many things, and my best friend during a time in my life that I really needed one. I had to make things better, to leave for Norway with him feeling better.

So I called his house. I got his mom who handed the phone to Lawton. He wasn't thrilled to hear from me. “What,” he said in a flat voice.

“I... Lawton, I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I'm still the person I was before, you know I'd never hurt you, not on purpose. I just want to talk, that be ok? Can we go to dinner? Just the two of us? Just talk?”

“I suppose... time?” He was curt and that made me feel like I was pulling a stubborn donkey.

“Seven? I'll pick you up.”

“Alright,” and he hung up, left me with a mix of confusing thoughts.

- - -

The first hour at dinner was rough. He didn't look at me, sat slumped in his chair, sipped his soda and barely touched his pasta. He'd obviously expected that we'd get back together for the summer, at least, and I suppose my expression, my responses had made it clear that wouldn't happen.

I tried to make small talk, asked him about his classes, his grades, his parents, anything I could think of just to get him to speak to me. Most of his responses were short, uninterested, often cold.

I talked about going to Norway and Russia in a few days, and that made it worse. I stopped telling him all the fun things in my life. It was old habits that found me taking his hand and stroking it. I blame myself for staring into his eyes, trying to make him feel better, to know that I cared and didn't want him to hurt.

He read me completely wrong.

Lawton leaned over me and kissed my lips. Again, I gave in, sank into his kiss, ignored the screaming red flags. His arms wrapped around me, he said, “I need you, Carrie. Please... even just tonight... just tonight... Please...”

I had no strength to argue. I know I wanted him, wanted to make him feel good, to give him the night that he needed to let me go, finally. I didn't think about cheating on Elise, the promise I'd made to her, didn't think about my STD, didn't care that I was just compounding the problem Lawton was facing in his mind.

No strength, and half-an-hour later Lawton was inside me, no condom, after spending twenty minutes licking my puss. I came, twice, couldn't help it. All the wonderful touches he'd had for me those months ago were still there, his tender lips, his careful, slow-building movements.

Lawton kissed me as he fucked me. I couldn't think about anything but the pleasure he gave me. That I gave him. He looked happy fucking me, and when he bellowed and filled me with his cum, I shuddered into an orgasm, pulled him into my body, and held him tight for a long time.

- - -

I fucked up. Horribly. I'd cheated on Elise, I'd given my body, my false promise, to my ex-lover, a man that deserved better. We laid together, my head on his shoulder, his arm around me, gently fondling my breasts. He had a satisfied smile on his face, sometimes kissing my forehead.

I felt terrible but I didn't show it. Elise, Lawton, promises, false and true. They shattered my comfortable life and left me in a state where I didn't know what to do.

So for that night, I stayed with Lawton. I couldn't make him hurt again. I'd have to, in order to leave. I couldn't let him think we would be together for more than one night. That's what he'd said, right? 'Just tonight?' I knew that the way my body had shuddered under him, the way I touched his chest, the way I let him hold me, said I'd agreed to much more than 'just tonight.'

He fucked me again, waking me in the dark to slide into my pussy from behind. I let him, didn't resist, but couldn't bring myself to enjoy it. I just let him hump me awhile, wishing it would end quickly.

It didn't, and he wanted more. “Can I put it in your ass?”

I nodded, just a small down and up, no words on my lips. He seemed to see my movement and spread his saliva over my anus before probing my backdoor with his finger. I was numb, my body barely registering his movements in my ass, my emotions splattered and scattered to the far corners of my mind. I felt his penis move against me then, stretching my hole wide as he slid inside.

I felt uncomfortable in so many ways that I hurt emotionally and physically. My ass was sore after a few minutes of Lawton fucking it, and my mind was fighting over how to make everything with Lawton stop cold. I hated to hurt him, but I'd made things so bad by fucking him that night, I saw no way to avoid it.

Lawton grunted, whispered, “oh, Carrie... oh...” and came in my ass.

I fell asleep at some point, and woke before he did. I tried to dress and leave quietly, but he stirred and smiled, said, “good morning, Sweetheart. Sleep ok?”

I nodded, numb, scared of what I'd done. He asked, “breakfast?” I shook my head, mumbled something about needing to do some things that day. I tried to walk out the front door quickly, but he took my arm and pulled me to him. When his lips met mine, I had nothing left to resist him.

Lawton looked at me, holding me, “see you again before you leave?”

I mumbled, “I dunno... lot to do... three days off.”

He looked disappointed but his smile returned, said softly, “I'll wait for you, Carrie. Always. I'll be here when you get back.”

I felt so sad for him in that moment. I wanted to tell him not to wait, to go sow his oats, to find someone else to love his gentle fingers. I loved him, it's true, I did. I loved him and I hated to hurt him. I let him believe what he wanted. “Do what makes you feel good, Lawton. Do what makes you feel good.”

When he whispered, “I love you, Carrie” I almost cried. Instead, I managed to catch myself and kiss his lips, offered a weak smile. He probably thought I was sad to leave him. The truth was I was sad that he was being left, which was not quite the same thing.

I drove off, pulled over halfway home, and cried into the headrest until I couldn't draw tears anymore.

- - -

I didn't tell Mom. I was the one wholly in the wrong. This time, for sure. I'd felt guilt and blame and shame for other things I'd done in the past, but most of that was not deserved, self-imposed bullshit or slut-shaming conditioning.

Nothing like this one. I'd let Lawton believe there was a chance between us, implied that I would wait for him, that our night of making love had repaired our relationship and committed us to a future together. I did that, and I felt so ashamed I couldn't tell Mom.

The rest of my days in Killeen were spent not feeling well. I was sick over Lawton, over what I'd done to Elise, and my menstrual cramps doubled my misery and left me tired and weak by the time I boarded the plane heading for New York. After a stop in Germany, I finally arrived in Oslo and saw Elise for the first time in two weeks.

She looked so good when she stepped out of the car pulled up and parked by the curb, her arms wide. “Carrie!”

“Oh, Elise...” I didn't cry, not that time. Everything I'd done threatened to boil out and push my tears along, but I embraced her, felt her warmth, felt her love, and for the moment, I let my secret fester.

Her parents were both tall, blonde Norwegians, friendly, never showed reservations about her daughter and I holding hands, hugging, showing our love. I loved Elise fiercely then, wanted desperately to make up for my wrongs.

For two weeks, Elisa and I spent the days on the slopes, and each night making love. The skiing was fun. My Mom had given me enough money to take proper lessons, so I learned the basics and got pretty confident on my skis while Elise did advanced training with her former-Olympian instructor.

It was easy to sink back into Elise and our life together. Away from school, it was a little different, the rhythm of our lives had changed, the pressures lighter, but our relationship felt like the right one, and Elisa showed she agreed by making love to me every night and holding me, whispering sweet words in my ear.

My guilt festered and burned over that time. We were a couple of weeks away from leaving for Russia, and I found myself beginning to drown emotionally. I felt hollow, like every embrace I gave Elise was a lie, each kiss a catalyst to the hate I was growing for myself.

It finally boiled out one night, two days before Russia. We'd made love for over an hour, shared our juices and our kisses, lay cuddled together on her bed. She laid her head on my shoulder, absently stroked my thigh. I'd been a bit withdrawn all day, and despite the fact that I tried not to show I was hurting, Elise seemed to notice something was off.

“What's wrong, Carrie? You seem kinda sad.”

I managed a weak smile when she kissed my cheek. “I dunno.”

“'I dunno' usually means you know but you aren't telling me...”

“I don't know.” I said a bit stronger than I meant to, making it even more obvious she was right.

She held me quietly a while, and I started to break down, the weight of my lies became too much in her arms. I started to cry. She shushed me, wiped my tears, brushed away my hair from my eyes. “Let it go... let it go... I'm here. Talk to me... please...”

I tried to say it. I really did. I choked up, tears and coughing fits making me mute. Elise continued to hold me, sending her love through her gentle touches.

I tried again, and what came out was, “I-I... I-I cheated on you... back home... I cheated on you...” and my tears fell freely. I was crushed, knew it was over with my lover, wondered how fast she'd make me leave. I deserved it, I know that. I knew it then, too. I deserved her hatred and her anger.

Elise was quiet a moment. She said carefully, “Lawton?”

I nodded against her and said nothing, my puffy eyes and cheeks felt raw, sore, my nose ran and I wiped it dry with a tissue.

Again, she was quiet a moment. Longer than that. Several minutes went by and I hung on her every breath, waiting for the horrible moment she told me to leave.

But she held me, never stopped that. I felt wetness hit my shoulder, then more. I looked back. Elise was crying softly.

All the times I'd felt pain and hurt in my life, Brown, Henri, losing Camila, Lawton, seeing Elise crying because of what I'd caused was the worst. It sucked at me deep, caused me to get close to that point where I knew I might have a panic attack. I was overwhelmed, scared, so angry at myself for doing what I did, for hurting the woman I loved.

She cried, but she hugged me tighter. And then what she said surprised me. “I always wondered... if you'd go back to find you still loved him. I knew... from what you said about him... I couldn't match him... I can't match him... I shouldn't have tried...”

“No! No, oh no, Elise, no... Oh, no... not like that.”

We were both crying so hard there were no more words for a time, but I had to let her know how I felt. “Not like that, just the opposite. I found I didn't feel that way about him, I didn't want to be with him. I'm so in love with you, I only want you. I only want you, Elise. Only you... oh... god... I'm so sorry...”

Another long set of tears before she said, “me? You don't want to go back to Lawton?”

“You, only you. Oh, God, I love you, Elise, you're everything to me, everything. I fucked up, I'm so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you, I just want to love you and feel you love me... All I want in all the world.”

She squeezed me tight, pulled back, and frowned. I thought she was going to make me leave, her expression looked so certain.

“Ok... This one time...” She spoke more strongly than her trembling lips, her bloodshot eyes, suggested she could, “Carrie, this one time... tell me what happened. All of it... Tell me what happened and I can forgive you. Just once, Carrie, just once. Promise me. Promise me never again, not Lawton or anyone, not while you're mine.”

“Oh god, I promise Elise. I promise everything. Only you, only ever you. Never again, I promise. Ohhh.... ooohhh...”

And somehow I still had tears left, though my eyes and throat felt constricted and dry.

Elise kissed me, a more encouraging cry-smile on her lips, said, “ok... so... tell me...”

And I did. All of it, how it happened, where he'd fucked me, the things we said. I finished by saying, “I didn't know how to not hurt him, Elise. All that night, I just wanted him to be happy. Wanted him to feel love. I felt so bad, I wanted him to have hope. Stupid, stupid. I gave him my body and I made it worse when I didn't tell him not to wait, not expect me to return. I didn't know what to say. I should have told him.”

“Yes... you should have. If you want to do the right thing, Carrie, I'll help you write him a letter, something honest, something that will make things clear and hopefully allow him to let you go over time. You have to be honest with him. It will hurt you and us to leave this out there for another time.”

“Ok... I'll do it.”

- - -

The letter came together the next day with help from Elise. It was direct, polite, and hopefully, warm. I left no doubt that we were through and that what would make both of us happy was for him to find someone else. I wasn't coming back to Killeen any time soon, and it wasn't fair to either of us to expect the other to wait. I didn't mention Elise, didn't think that would help, though I debated whether knowing I had someone else would give him the courage to move on. I probably should have told him, but I chose not to do so.

I included the address of where I'd be in Russia, told him when I'd be back in Amsterdam in case he wanted to write me there. And later that day, we dropped it in the mail on our way to dinner.

Elise and I mended slowly, really. There was a distance between us when we went to Russia. We didn't make love for a few days, her embraces were measured. Warm, but not fully committed. I saw it in her eyes that she had internalized what I'd done and was still working her way toward the 'forgiveness' she'd given me that night. She never spoke of it again, but I knew that it still hurt her for some time. I'd violated her trust, broke my promise, and I knew how lucky I was that she loved me enough to give me another chance.

And it hurt me, too, continued to burn inside. Nothing makes me feel worse than hurting someone I love. Never worse than when I knew the consequences and did hurt them anyway. It wouldn't be the last time in my life I made that mistake, unfortunately.