Free Essentialism (Bridgette & Troy's Story) by LK Collins

since leaving Troy’s and I need to calm down. I turn the water on and leave the room to add a little soft, relaxing music. My brain needs it and I know it. Flipping through the stations of the TV, I decide on the soundscapes channel. The cool ocean waves crash through the speakers as I undress.
    When I return to the steamed-filled bathroom, I slide into the hot water. It burns my skin and is so refreshing. I’ve always loved the sting of a hot bath. Closing my eyes, I can feel Troy’s lips on mine. The passion he showed me was not something you do with someone you’re letting go of. Vincent’s words make sense. He had to be proving a point. I pray that he is.
    Keeping my eyes shut, I take even breaths to clear my mind, focusing on thinking of nothing. I soak for a while longer and then decide to wash myself. Finally I feel tired enough to sleep and drag myself to my bed. As I climb in, I leave the music on and check my phone. There’s a missed text from Cara. Would you mind if I crashed at Abel’s? I’m exhausted and just want to sleep.
    Of course not, get some rest. Call me tomorrow.
    Before I close my eyes for the night, I text Troy. I’m not going to give up on him. I stare at the blank screen, thinking of what to say. He knows I’m sorry; I don’t want to repeat myself and start to sound like a broken record. So I simply decide on – I miss you.
    He doesn’t respond and I hold out hope that he’s busy. It takes everything I have to keep my eyes open. Soon the blackness soothes away my fears and takes me back to this morning…
    …Rocking my hips against his, I’m rewarded with his erection – it’s hard and hot underneath me. Suddenly he hoists himself off of the couch and engulfs me in his arms. Brushing my bangs out of my eyes, he asks, “Come to bed with me?”
    I nod my head at him and he grabs my hand walking us out of his living room. I follow as he leads us upstairs, driving me absolutely mad watching his ass as we move. His thin pants barely hang on his hips and I want to just pull them down. Troy walks with purpose and doesn’t hesitate. His confidence lets me know we made the right decision.
    Entering his room, he says, “I have one rule. No shirts allowed in my bed.”
    Looking at him, his expression is serious. I swallow hard and grab the hem of my grey t-shirt, pulling it above my head. Troy’s eyes never leave mine and I love how he respects me. “After you.”
    I climb in, and he’s right behind me. Right away we get comfy and lay facing each other. Then I say, “You have really silly rules.”
    “It’s not really a rule, just a way I could get your shirt off.”
    “You could always do it without asking.”
    “Really?”
    “Yeah. I trust you.”
    “Then you won’t mind if I do this?” he asks, removing the covers and scooting down, placing his lips on my neck, then my chest, each breast, and nipple. God, I wish I didn’t have a bra on. He moves further, kissing my stomach and ribs, stopping along my right side, staring at the script tattoo that falls down my body. “So sexy,” he murmurs. Moving to my left side he kisses another tattoo. As his mouth grazes the top of my shorts, he pulls them down a little bit. Not exposing me but allowing himself more access to my skin and the spot of an additional tattoo. This one is a heart with two angel wings.
    “Fuck, Bridge. You’re killing me. These are so hot.”
    “Mm-hm.” I can’t get out any words. I’m lost in the pleasure of his lips.
    “Do you have more?”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “Where?” he demands suddenly.
    I roll over moving my hair to one shoulder. As I lay down, Troy presses his long body along mine and then his lips touch my back as he unhooks my bra. He sits up studying my art. My back piece is by far my biggest tattoo and the newest one I’ve been working on since I lost my mom. It represents everyone I’ve ever loved and lost. It’s the one thing I can always count on to never leave me. I’ve lost a lot