Things That Change Pt. 02

I felt my second orgasm pass, only to make way for a third. It felt endless, riding Wilson's cock until the twitching stopped.

I slumped forward and laid in his arms like that, connected at the groin.

"Hey," he whispered. "We gotta go," he pushed my hair back and kissed my forehead. I didn't even notice he'd pulled the finger out of my ass.

I just hummed and started pushing myself up. When I went to stand, my hip gave out. I would have fallen if Wilson hadn't put his arm out and caught me.

"Thanks," I groaned, suddenly in more pain than before.

"No problem, what's wrong?" He was obviously concerned. I pushed myself to my feet; it wasn't the first time I'd have to move through the pain.

I limped to the sink, keeping that right leg as straight as possible. "Overextended my leg," I lied. I pulled my shirt on, making the mistake of turning to the right. I heard a gasp.

"Oh God, Ginger," he was next to me in a second. I looked down, and sure enough, my scar was on full display. I turned away quickly, almost falling in the process. He just looked at me, waiting for an explanation.

"I was in a car accident a few months ago," I admitted. "That's why I had that leave of absence when you started." I held onto the sink and kept my head down, expecting him to leave quietly and forget about this all.

Instead, I felt his hands on my hips. His right hand moved lower so he could feel my scar. Tears welled in my eyes.

"That's why you lost it in my car?" He asked gently. I just nodded. If I spoke, it would just be tears.

"I...," he paused. I looked at our reflections in the mirror. He looked disappointed, of course. "I can't believe I didn't notice before."

I just shrugged, turning away to get the rest of my clothes. As I got dressed again, Wilson just stood there, naked and soft.

"No, Ginger, I'm so sorry," Now it looked like he was about to cry. "I've seen you naked three times now, and I never even noticed."

I pulled my pants back up and looked at the floor, then at Wilson. "I like that you didn't see it. Sometimes, I forget it's there too," I chuckled.

Wilson doubled down, "No, I should have noticed. I should have thought maybe that's why you limp, and then in the car. I should have seen it," he beat himself up some more.

"Hey," I limped to him and gently rubbed his cheek. "You saw me, didn't you?" He nodded. "What more could I ask for?"

He came in for a kiss, but I deflected.

"We have to get out of here before someone sends in fire and rescue." He got dressed and washed up a bit. We decided the only way to do this was to exit as confidently as possible.

We opened the door and walked out like two people on a mission. I heard a chuckle behind me and turned around. Wilson was nearly bent over laughing.

On the door, there was a handwritten sign: *Bathroom out of order for construction.*

I rolled my eyes and pulled him with me, using him to steady myself as we walked.

"I assume you don't want a ride home?" He held my arm tighter.

"You'd be right," I pulled his arm, and he stopped. "But, I'm still hungry. Can we actually get lunch?" Suddenly, Wilson had a beaming smile from ear to ear. We chose a quiet place with a haphazard menu that wasn't too far to walk.

Once we sat down, there was an awkward silence again that lasted for a few minutes. We ordered pur drinks, and Wilson picked picked an appetizer. At this point, it would be more of an early dinner rather than lunch.

"Were you serious," I sipped my water. "About hiring a prostitute because of me?"

He took my hands and held them. "Of course I was serious. I couldn't stop thinking about you." He leaned closer, "I always pretended she was you."

I'd have to think about whether or not I liked that and if it was as flattering as he was trying to make it out to be. In the meantime, we talked. We got to know each other for real this time. As the appetizer got there, we were discussing Wilson's youth hockey days.

"I used to be a runner," I admitted as each of us took a piece of flatbread. "In high school and through college."

Wilson swallowed his bite, "And what made you stop?"

I picked an onion off of my piece, "I just got too busy, I guess. I had so much going on my senior year," I sat back. "I didn't join track that year. I wish I did," I picked a mushroom off and ate it.

Wilson had all of his attention on me, no longer giving the food any thought.

"But," I sat up. "I ran on my own, you know? Mornings and evenings, sometimes I spent my lunch break jogging." I smiled, but it was tight, forced.

"Can you..." he looked around awkwardly. "Still run?" He nodded down, obviously in reference to my leg.

I nodded slowly, looking at my plate, and he smiled.

"No," I looked up, and Wilson's face dropped in disappointment for me. "They keep saying it's possible one day. I mean, I'm not the first person with titanium bolts in their body," I joked. "I just don't see that kind of full-blown, back to my normal, recovery happening."

Wilson thought about my words, neither of us regarding our food anymore. "What about cars? Do you think that'll be forever?"

We both fell silent. The server came, asking if there was a problem.

"I go to therapy twice a week," I explained. "I told her about the other night. She said it's normal," I laughed. "Normal for a grown woman to scream in terror at hazard lights." I shook my head, "My accident was bad, not the worst but bad."

Wilson moved to hold my hand, but I pulled away.

"It shouldn't have happened," I felt my heart start to race. "I wasn't doing anything wrong, I was just leaving a café. It was five in the evening. Why is anyone so drunk at five p.m. that they can't stop or swerve or know not to get in the fucking car?"

Tears fell down my cheeks; I squeezed my eyes shut, but it just made them fall faster. I felt something touch my shoulders, so I opened my eyes. Wilson had moved next to me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and pulling me to him. He grabbed my hand, I tried to pull away, but he squeezed me tighter.

It was like a weighted blanket, the comfort of being safe under something. I reluctantly opened my eyes, repeating over and over in my head, "You're safe." The same two words that played anytime there was a loud noise or when I'd get random pains up my leg.

"That's right," Wilson whispered against my hair. "You're safe here." I realized I was mumbling out loud instead of in my own head. Just another thing to be embarrassed of.

"I'm sorry," I gently pushed against Wilson's chest, and he complied by letting me go. With the weight of his hold gone, I felt exposed and outside myself. "I have to go home," I got up in a rush and turned to leave.

Wilson was quick on my heels, pulling out what looked like a fifty dollar bill and throwing it onto the table -- even though our total couldn't have been more than twenty dollars. He followed me out of the building until he was in front of me.

"Ginger, I'm so sorry," he held my arms. "Please, is there any way this doesn't have to end?"

I shook my head, "No, I'm sorry." Wilson looked defeated. "No, no, that's not what I mean. This," I motioned to myself, "isn't your problem or your fault. It wouldn't be fair to tell you that it's a one-time thing, it'll never happen again. Because it's going to keep happening."

"I understand that," He pushed my hair behind my ear. "You should let someone else be a part of it. Let someone else experience that with you."

He pulled me into a hug that I didn't refuse. I was fully crying, making a wet mess of his shirt. But, he let me cry for what felt like ages. By the time I was all dried up, I felt dizzy.

I felt like a child, unable to handle my problems with anything but tears. It was demoralizing, like every step toward progress took a million steps back. But the idea of having someone else, of not having to do it all alone, was new.

I pulled Wilson's face to mine until our lips met. We stayed like that, even though we probably should have been in private with such a passionate kiss.

He pulled away first and opened his mouth, but I interrupted. "Come back to my place," I suggested. He gave the biggest, goofiest smile, and that was my answer.

I started walking one way, expecting him to walk the opposite way to the parking lot. Instead, he was walking with me toward the subway entrance.

"What about your car?" I asked, motioning behind us with my thumb.

He shrugged, "Who needs it?"

I grabbed his hand, interlocking our fingers. We continued down the stairs, waiting for the next train, together.

*** a/n: I'm so glad you guys liked part 1!! Sorry The Box ended the way it did. It was a concept that worked better in my head. I actually had a different version that I forgot about, so maybe I'll upload that as well? I feel like I owe an explanation, so I'm currently working on an essay of sorts that will come out soon. I'm also planning on a few more parts of this story, and I'm excited about the directions I'm planning on taking Ginger and Wilson. Thank you all so much for reading, voting, and being honest. As always, with love -- xoxo s.g.**