Darkroom: A Moo U Hockey Romance by Kate Willoughby (reading a book .txt) 📕

as if I’d sprouted another head. “Who did you—? Wait a second. You said ‘we.’ You said, ‘we’ll deal with it.’”

“Yes, I did.”

“Does that mean you forgive me?”

Biting my lip, I nodded and a split second later we were in each other’s arms. Relief such as I’d never experienced before swept over me in a giant wave. He was holding me so tightly, I could barely breathe. I kissed him hard and suddenly all I wanted was to feel him inside me.

He seemed to be of the same mind. We got naked as quickly as we could and while he rolled on a condom, I made sure the door was locked. Moments later, he was on top of me, his hips wedged between my legs, his cock at my entrance.

He groaned as he pushed himself inside me and I struggled not to cry out. It felt indescribably good. He went at me with an urgency that demanded a response which I couldn’t have held back if I tried. I lifted my hips to meet his hard thrusts and the sensations coalesced into a climax sooner than I’d have thought possible. There had been almost no build-up. It just came out of nowhere.

I muffled my scream in his neck as the waves of pleasure swamped me. Hudson gave one last thrust, grinding himself against me as, shuddering, he came too. I wrapped my legs around him, not wanting the moment to end, not wanting to let him go. He was murmuring over and over, “I love you. I love you,” and I’m not even sure he was aware he was doing it.

A few minutes later we were snuggled together in my bed. I could hear music playing somewhere and we’d turned the lights off except for the string of fairy lights that decorated my window.

“So,” I said, reaching out to touch the purple blotch on his face, “I think I know what this is, but why don’t you tell me anyway?”

He blinked, touched his face then examined his fingers for residue. “I forgot I had this on.”

“You did a pretty good job replicating it,” I said.

“I had to do it from memory. I don’t have any pictures.”

“I’ll send you one.” I reached across him and got my phone from the desk and airdropped him the photo I’d posted on Facebook.

“What’s this?” he asked.

I told him about Michaela’s “coming out” post and how I’d followed her lead.

“I don’t know how to describe what happened after that. The next day there were hundreds of responses. Hundreds. All from people I’d never met before but who acted like I was a long-lost member of the family. I’ve never felt so much love and support before from total strangers. And they all had stories just like mine. They’ve all lived through so many of the same experiences I had.”

“Indi, that’s incredible,” he said. “It’s also a weird coincidence, because that’s kind of why I decided to paint my face.” He turned to face me. “Remember when we had that fight at your parents’ house and you told me I would never understand what you went through because I have a perfect face?”

“I never said you had a perfect face,” I said with a smile, “but yes, I remember.”

“Well, it occurred to me that the only way to really understand is to try walking around with a birthmark of my own. It’s the only way to get a taste of what you went through.”

A warmth suffused my heart as he explained that he wanted to wear this painted birthmark, 24/7, for an entire week.

“Obviously, it won’t be nearly as intense because I’ll be able to wash my birthmark off afterward, but I don’t know. It’s better than nothing.”

I framed his “perfect” face in my hands and kissed him soundly. “It’s so much better than nothing,” I said, my heart in my throat. “It means everything to me that you want to do this. Everything.”

39

Hudson

Indi couldn’t have been more thrilled with the idea of me sporting a fake birthmark, but honestly, I would have worn it for a year if it meant she’d take me back. When she forgave me, the vise that seemed to have been gripping my heart finally eased off and I felt like I could finally take a real breath. And the sex had been unreal.

Even though it had been hurried and frantic, it had surpassed any physical pleasure I’d ever experienced, mainly because it wasn’t just physical. We loved each other and when I slid inside her last night, it had been fucking transcendent. In that moment, every one-night stand I’d ever had seemed like a farce, like I’d been going through the motions. I realized why they called it making love. Love made all the difference.

The next morning, we hammered out some details about the birthmark project I hadn’t thought about, like what I was going to say to people if they asked me what was on my face. She got a tube of red paint so I could mix a hue that was closer to the actual color of a port-wine stain. The purple that I had gotten was like Barney the Dinosaur purple. She also gave me official permission to include AJ in on everything.

The next day, I stood in front of the mirror and painted the birthmark on, using a photo of Indi as reference. It took me a while, but the end result was startling and pretty realistic. Even AJ was impressed.

Deke was not.

I ventured out to get coffee at the Green Bean before class and was aware of a lot of darting glances and downcast eyes. I just acted like I usually did, like I didn’t have a big wine-colored blotch on almost half my face. It was no big deal and I felt like, except for the inevitable shit I’d get from my teammates, this week wouldn’t be that bad. But by the end of the day, I was so irritated