Free Ally Hughes Has Sex Sometimes by Jules Moulin Page A

move to the twelve. “Okay, go.” She was still standing up at the edge of the bed.
    Jake took a breath and looked at the ceiling. “Born in Boston. Last of four boys. Dad took off when I was two. Mom taught first grade, so we had no money. At three, got a baseball. That was big. That was major. Moved in with Grandma, above a bar, all of us, at five. Little League at six. Oldest brother shot when I was nine. Shot, but survived. I started pitching. Arrested for possession my junior year, high school.”
    â€œArrested?”
    â€œ
Convicted.
Served two months at Elk Island. House of Corrections.”
    â€œPossession of what?” She sat on the bed and turned to face him. She was intrigued.
    â€œCocaine.”
    â€œWow.” She pulled her blouse down over her underwear, over her thighs.
    â€œMy older brother dealt. I delivered. It’s a long story, but it got me into Brown.”
    Ally smiled. “Jail time. Of course.”
    Jake smiled. “They wanted my pitching. I had straight As and the baseball thing so . . . Four partial scholarship offers. Chose Brown, to pitch for the Bears . . . Three weddings later, five nephews, I quit school and decide to hit on my smokin’ professor.”
    â€œIs that me?”
    â€œYup.”
    Ally smiled. “Time,” she said and stretched her legs toward him. He picked up her foot and bit her big toe and put it down again. Ally smiled. She gave him the watch.
    Jake lit up the face and waited. “Okay, okay, wait, wait . . . Go.”
    Ally thought about it. Defining moments? Defining moments. “Born in New York,” she started and smiled. “Only child. Dad died when I was six. Pretend to remember him, but I don’t. We have that in common.” Jake nodded.
    â€œLizzie too. No dad.” She paused. “My mom was depressed. For a long time. Still is. Still is, I think. Never got over him. Then I got out. Accepted to Georgetown. Knocked myself up—I told you that. Had my baby, Elizabeth Claire. Moved to Providence to TA, for my PhD, and lived for nine whole years in this house. Turned thirty-one two months ago, and . . . and this student hit on me . . . The one I always thought was . . . so cute.”
    They stared at each other, both silent.
    â€œNow do you know me?” Jake asked and smiled.
    â€œNo,” she said, staring at him, basking in how handsome he was.
    â€œSo she’s safe there, and you’re safe here? Dead bolt, windows, me, done. Everyone’s safe, and you can be Ally for a few hours? Ally, not Mommy?”
    â€œI’m always Mommy.”
    He nodded and placed his hand on her ankle. “Good mom. Good daughter. All these roles we play.”
    â€œIt’s not a role,” Ally said, shaking her head. “It’s who I am.”
    He walked his fingers, his middle and pointer, to the center of her shin and up to her knee. “Good professor.” He leaned forward onto his stomach. By Ally’s side, he propped himself up and inspected her leg. “Killer gams, by the way . . .”
    Ally smiled.
    He took her leg, rotated it, and kissed the nook in the back of her knee. Then he continued to walk his fingers past her knee and up her thigh.
    Ally watched. The side of her mouth curled into a smile. What was he doing?
    At the top of her thigh, he splayed his hand. His fingers spread out around her leg, and he gripped it as if to measure its girth. Then he leaned in and kissed a freckle. “Since we’re playing ‘get to know you’. . . how many freckles do you have? Do you know?”
    â€œNo.”
    Jake nodded. “Maybe you don’t know someone . . . until you know how many freckles they have . . .” He circled the freckle with his finger. “One,” he said and gazed down the bed, back to her foot. “Do you