Walking Disaster

hesitate. Once Abby was securely on the back of my bike, I raced home, taking every shortcut, rushing every yellow light, and weaving in and out of the little traffic there was at
that time of the morning.
    When we reached the apartment, turning off the engine and lifting Abby into my arms seemed simultaneous.
    She giggled against my lips as I fumbled with the bolt lock on the front door. When I set her down and closed the door behind us, I let out a long, relieved sigh.
    “It hasn’t seemed like home since you left,” I said, kissing her again.
    Toto scampered down the hall and wagged his shaggy tail, pawing at Abby’s legs. He’d missed her almost as much as I had.
    Shepley’s bed squeaked, and then his feet stomped across the floor. His door flew open as he squinted from the light. “Fuck no, Trav, you’re not pulling this shit! You’re
in love with Ab . . .”—his eyes focused and he recognized his mistake—“by. Hey, Abby.”
    “Hey, Shep,” Abby said with an amused smile, setting Toto on the floor.
    Before Shepley could ask questions, I pulled Abby down the hall. We crashed into each other. I hadn’t planned on anything but having her next to me in the bed, but she yanked my shirt up
and over my head with intention. I helped her with her jacket, and then she stripped off her sweater and tank top. There was no questioning the look in her eyes, and I wasn’t about to
argue.
    Soon we were both completely naked, and the small voice inside of me wanting to savor the moment and take things slow was easily overpowered by Abby’s desperate kisses and the soft hums
she made whenever I touched her pretty much anywhere.
    I lowered her to the mattress, and her hand shot out toward the nightstand. Instantly, I remembered my unceremonious breaking of the fishbowl of condoms to pledge my intended celibacy.
    “Shit,” I said, panting. “I got rid of them.”
    “
What? All
of them?”
    “I thought you didn’t . . . if I wasn’t with you, I wasn’t going to need them.”
    “You’re kidding me!” she said, letting her head fall against the headboard in frustration.
    I leaned down, breathing hard, resting my forehead against her chest. “Consider yourself the opposite of a foregone conclusion.”
    The next moments were a blur. Abby did some weird counting, concluding that she couldn’t get pregnant that particular week, and before I knew it, I was inside of her, feeling every part of
her against every part of me. I had never been with a girl without that thin sheath of latex, but apparently a fraction of a millimeter made a lot of difference. Every movement created equally
overpowering conflicting feelings: delaying the inevitable, or giving in because it felt so fucking good.
    When Abby’s hips rose against mine, and her uncontrolled groans and whimpers escalated to a loud, satisfied cry, I couldn’t hold back anymore.
    “Abby,” I whispered, desperate. “I need a . . . I need to . . .”
    “Don’t stop,” she begged. Her fingernails dug into my back.
    I rocked into her again one last time. I must have been loud, because Abby’s hand flew up to my mouth. I closed my eyes, letting everything go, feeling my eyebrows press together while my
body convulsed and stiffened. Breathing hard, I looked into Abby’s eyes. Wearing only a tired, satisfied smile, she peered up at me, waiting for something. I kissed her over and over, and
then cupped each side of her face with my hands, kissing her again, this time more tenderly.
    Abby’s breathing slowed, and she sighed. I leaned my body to the side, relaxing next to her, and then pulled her against me. She rested her cheek against my chest, her hair cascading down
my arm. I kissed her forehead once more, locking my fingers together at the small of her back.
    “Don’t leave this time, okay? I wanna wake up just like this in the morning.”
    Abby kissed my chest, but didn’t look up. “I’m not going anywhere.”
    THAT MORNING, LYING WITH THE WOMAN I LOVED, A SILENT promise was formed in my head. I was going to be a better man for her, someone she deserved. No
more flying off the handle. No more temper tantrums, or violent outbursts.
    Every time I pressed my lips against her skin, waiting for her to wake up, I repeated that promise in my mind.
    Dealing with life outside the apartment while trying to stay true to that promise proved to be a struggle. For the first time, I not only gave a shit about someone, but I was also desperate to