Free Deciding Tomorrow by Renee Ericson

around his neck. I roll my hips over him, his length gliding in and out of me.
    “Everything about you,” he says, his mouth at my neck, “is gorgeous and beautiful.”
    “Brent,” I gasp.
    “And fucking fantastic.”
    We gyrate our hips in rhythm. Our bodies are tightly woven together, and our hands are everywhere at once. Brent’s mouth dips below my chin, asking to take my breasts, and I arch my back, giving him full rein of my body.
    It’s his, too. It always has been.
    His tongue flicks and laps at my nipples, taunting them, causing my breaths to quicken.
    Wanting to kiss him, to see him, to feel him, I draw myself toward him and take his mouth with mine. Savoring everything he is, I create a memory of us, one to carry with me for as long as it takes until we can make another one. I roll my hips faster, loving the feel of him inside me, as he fills me in so many ways.
    I moan into his mouth as the pleasure slowly builds deep and heavy inside. I clench his shoulders tight until intense waves release through my every muscle and every cell. Brent pulls me down over him one last time, letting himself go while simultaneously holding me tight.
    His lips come to my ear. “Soon. We will be together again soon.”
     

NINE
     
    The lights illuminate the airport drop-off area in the predawn hour. Brent puts the car into park, and I concentrate on my lap. It’s early, too early, but my entire body is alert despite the hour.
    Time keeps moving on.
    I wish it wouldn’t. Good-bye has come too soon.
    Bravely, I face Brent, forcing myself to keep marching forward. My flight is in about an hour, he has team practice soon, and my life waits for me two thousand miles away. I’m having serious second thoughts about boarding the plane. I need more time.
    “Call me when you get there?” he asks, placing his hand in mine.
    “Sure, I can do that.”
    He squeezes my fingers. “It won’t be long.”
    “I know.”
    “My season will be over in about a month or sooner, and I’ll have a break. You can come out again before then, if you want. We can figure it out.”
    “Okay,” I barely muster. More syllables are outside of my emotional boundary this morning.
    Leaning over the center console, Brent palms the side of my face, looking straight through me, into me. Moisture glasses over his green orbs. This is hard on him, too.
    “Call me when you board,” he says, adamant.
    “I will. Happy birthday by the way.”
    “Thank you.”
    He fervently kisses me. Tears erupt, trickling down my cheeks.
    This is our last kiss, our last touch, our last moment.
    No, it isn’t . There will be more.
    I open the door, and Brent comes around with my bag in his hand. He transfers it into my possession…in slow motion.
    “Just so you know,” I say bravely, “I’m going to miss you.”
    “The feeling is so mutual.”
    He takes me in his arms, and I let myself love him, allowing my soul to feel.
    “I’ll call you every day. It will make it easier,” he says.
    “It can’t make it worse,” I mumble into his chest.
    “Have a good flight.” The words contain a simple message, but this departure is full of complexity.
    “Thanks.” I pull out of his embrace and shrug my bag over my shoulder. “I will.”
    “Don’t forget to call me when you board.”
    I smile at his insistence. “I will, I promise.”
    “Go on. You don’t want to miss your flight.”
    I steal a kiss from his mouth and then turn toward the sliding glass doors, not allowing myself to look back.
    Forcing my legs onward, I head straight to the kiosk, print out my ticket, and then unhurriedly make it through the security line. To bide my time, I get an overpriced mocaccino because chocolate helps everything, and then I settle into the gate area where other passengers are starting to gather. My flight isn’t for another forty-five minutes. Being idle is not good in times like this, allowing second-guesses to creep into the mind. Brent and I talked about this, and