Takes Its Toll

by Kit Graves

  “What?” Tiffany asked, making blessed eye contact, while Winnie cast her eyes up and down Olivia’s long legs.

  “We’re monogamous, you know, so I hope you didn’t call us in to seduce us,” she added, sounding sorry about it. Tiffany elbowed her.

  “Shut up, Bronwen. Getting ready for a date, Olivia?”

  Olivia, bright red and already moving to tie her robe around her waist, nodded. “I was just wondering - my hair -”

  “On it,” Winnie nodded, moving around Olivia to drag the chair from her vanity out. “Sit!” Olivia sat, still embarrassed, but letting Winnie set to work on her hair. Tiffany disappeared for a moment, reappearing with an armload of clothing from her and Laurel’s rooms, trailed by a complaining Laurel.

  “Ooh, gang’s all here,” Laurel cooed, dropping onto the bed. She offered wildly unhelpful commentary on every dress Tiffany held up, until she got itchy and jumped back up again with an “honestly, she’ll never be ready at this pace,” and before Olivia knew it she had an army of stylists.

  She wound up in a deceptively comfortable peach wrap dress, which hit perfectly at the waist, turning Olivia’s long torso into an hourglass shape. They wrapped her in a leather jacket, deposited her into suede motorcycle boots, but when Laurel reached for Olivia’s jewelry box, Olivia stopped her. “Wait, I know which necklace I want to wear.”

  She picked out a simple gold chain with a heart locket, one that had been her mother’s, and let Tiffany fasten it carefully at the nape of her neck. Laurel insisted on finding the rest of her jewelry, but when Olivia looked at the results in the mirror, she didn’t see her friends’ taste. She saw herself, at her best. It really was miraculous - she knew, abstractly, she she wasn’t unattractive, but it had never really mattered. After Tomer, it almost seemed like a curse, like she would never have caught his eye without her mother’s looks. But now she looked at the woman in the mirror, her braided hair catching the light, her eyes lined in smoke… and thought she was truly beautiful.

  “Thanks, you guys,” she whispered, emotional. Tiffany squeezed her shoulder, but Winnie only rolled her eyes.

  “Obviously we’re going to help you, Olivia, god.”

  “Help you get laid,” Laurel added, surprisingly astute for the only one who hadn’t seen Olivia’s matching underthings.

  Olivia took a deep breath - in, then out. She grabbed her helmet… and there was a knock on the door.

  It turned out she hadn’t seen Harlan’s text, so he’d come to knock. He had to duck his head to enter, and Laurel (who’d opened the door), turned around to mouth “holy shit” to the others behind his back.

  “Hey, Harlan!” Olivia chirped, feeling silly but relying on her courtesies to see her through the awkward moments in life, as always. “I’m ready, we can go.” She held up the helmet as proof, but he was too busy staring at her.

  His look burned through her. She could tell that he was taking her in, as she’d taken herself in, and his appreciation was obvious. As good as she had felt looking in the mirror, this was a thousand times that. Now she felt…seen. Wanted.

  A little bit red, as her roommates gathered and gawked.

  Harlan reacted first, seeming to shake himself before turning to Laurel, the closest to him. “Harlan,” he rumbled, reaching out a hand.

  “Laurel,” she purred, shaking his hand with both of hers so that her arms squeezed her chest together. “My, what… scars you have.”

  Harlan barked out a laugh even as Olivia hissed Laurel’s name, horrified. “Yeah, I have.”

  “Ignore her, she’s more hair than brains,” Winnie said, stepping into shake his hand next. Olivia could tell that she was trying to crush Harlan’s hand, though the attempt was comical. “Bronwen Hayes. My girlfriend Tiff.”

  Tiffany waved. “Tiffany, actually, but call me whatever.”

  “Except Missy,” Harlan guessed, and Tiffany grinned.

  “Yup.”

  Harlan complimented their apartment, but he clearly didn’t fit in it, and for all his placid politeness Olivia could tell he was ready to be alone with her. So, with her roommates giving her totally obvious thumbs-ups that Harlan politely pretended not to see, they headed out together.

  Chapter 18

  Olivia was starting to be more comfortable on the motorcycle now, and she looked around happily as Harlan steered them. The dress whipped against her in the wind and everyone in the cars they passed looked like they were crawling. The braid Winnie had given her protected her hair from the worst of the motion, and by the time she started worrying about it, Harlan had left the main streets and was winding up into the foothills with her. He turned, turned again, and followed a street that stopped being paved about halfway uphill.

  Then they turned the last corner, and there they were. At the end of its own little lane, a lowslung house made of dark wood and brick seemed to grow from its surroundings. A wide porch wrapped around the front and to the side, where Olivia could see a single rocking chair that faced out toward the trees that hugged the perimeter of the property. All it was missing was a second rocking chair.

  Olivia dismounted, shaking her hair out to ensure it wasn’t a windswept snarl. She checked her bag to make sure everything was in place - her phone screen was still scrolling with texts from her roommates, Laurel seemingly still freaking out about Harlan’s size and looks, with Winnie demanding Olivia let her know when they did the deed, Tiffany sending blanket apologies for the other two. She ignored all of them.

  “Your house is beautiful,” she said instead, keeping pace with Harlan as he walked the bike into the carport where his truck sat. He rested it to one side, wiped his hands on his jeans, and hung their helmets up quickly. Hers looked good, hanging up there next to his.

  “You’re beautiful,” he countered, reaching for her once his hands were free. “That dress, Olivia, god. I wanted to eat you alive in front of all those roommates you’ve got.”

  “Sorry about them,” she said again, like she had the whole way from her door to the bike. “They’re just a little overprotective. Except Laurel, she’s just…”

  He snorted a laugh, now flipping through his keys as they approached the front door. Olivia turned around from the porch to see the view: it wasn’t much, as the trees swallowed up everything beyond the road, but what she saw was peaceful. There was a green-framed window straight to the sky, and the scent of earth, and a lingering moisture from the forest that set her inhaling deeply.

  Harlan turned to smile at her over his shoulder as he popped the door open. “Welcome home.”

  She didn’t question the way he said it. It did feel like home instantly, as soon as she set foot in the doorway. It was open-concept, like he’d ripped down all the walls that separated the kitchen and living room, creating a large open area with wood beams and blue walls. She wasn’t surprised that his tastes ran toward worn-in leather and dark wood, that the fireplace was a real brick one complete with scorch marks, that the one wall on the far side that hid (she assumed) a bathroom and bedroom wanted for some colorful art. It felt so Harlan, so immediately, that she felt like she knew him a few degrees better just for being in the room.

  He helped her take her coat off and went to start a fire, leaving her to wander through the room. She walked the kitchen, noting that the fridge held more reminders than personal effects. She trailed her fingers over the enormous butcher block that sat across from it, staring into the mirror that sat above the fireplace across the room. Harlan’s shoulders bumped up and down in the bottom of its the reflection, as he poked and prodded and softly cussed at the flames he was babying, but she could see herself as well. From far away like this, she looked like a whole, normal person. She looked like she knew what she was doing there, like she was confident in any which way this night would go. It was like a magic mirror, displaying a better version of what she felt, imbuing her with better feelings. She liked seeing herself surrounded by his things, she realized. When he straightened up at last and caught her eye
in the reflection, she discovered that she liked seeing herself beside him even more.

  Harlan dug a small remote out from between his couch cushions and started some music, the low sound of oldies mingling with the crackle of flames, adding a blanket of aural comfort that Olivia relaxed further into. He nodded at the fridge as he came back toward her, and she opened it up, Harlan fitting himself neatly against her back and tucking her head underneath his chin as he looked with her.

  It turned out that he had just been shopping, and it was quietly thrilling to see that he’d given some thought to options she might like: she noticed, for one thing, that he'd picked up three types of tea. They built pizzas together, making two little ones and a third they threw random things onto just for fun. Harlan offered her whiskey, and when she declined, didn’t have one either. She felt drunk enough, just touching fingers over toppings, leaning against his chest as they chopped mushrooms. When the pizza went in the oven, he leaned back against the countertop, pulling her gently into his chest. They made out lazily, slowly, his hands rubbing circles on her hips until she was utterly out of breath.

  She only broke away when the press of their bodies gave away his erection. He seemed content to ignore it, but Olivia drew back, fighting panic. “Could I use your restroom?” she asked, hoping she sounded normal.

  “Olivia-” he cut himself off, sounding regretful, and she hated herself instantly for making him feel like he was in the wrong. He rubbed his chin, but added “you know we don’t have to do anything,” looking her in the eyes to make sure she heard him. She offered him a weak smile, not sure how to respond.

  “Of course, I just, um. I just have to pee.”

  He nodded and stood up straight, walking her through the back wall’s doorway and pointing left. She found herself in a short hallway that backed up to the rear wall of the house, windows overlooking a small yard. To her left, the bathroom beckoned, clean and crisp subway tile visible beyond the door. But with a peek over her shoulder to ensure that Harlan had gone back to the oven, Olivia went right.

  His bedroom was bigger than she’d thought: it had to be, considering the size of the bed she found inside. A lofted ceiling lifted up above her, and a windowed alcove on the far wall hosted a reading nook big enough for even Harlan. It was warmer in this room than the others, rich rugs overlapping each other on the floor. She bit her lip as she took in the bed. It was rumpled, which comforted her a little, as it seemed to indicate that he hadn’t planned on bringing her into it. She reached out and touched the mattress: soft, springy, not so scary at all.

  “Pizza’s ready.” She turned around to see Harlan behind her in the doorway, leaning casually without any indication that he was surprised or upset to find her in his bedroom.

  “Oh, thank you.” She turned toward him, but he didn’t move to go, and neither did she. The moment stretched on and on, Harlan before her, the bed behind. She couldn’t look away from him, the lean of his body against the doorframe, the intensity of his grey eyes.

  Later she wouldn’t remember who moved forward first. She only remembered his arms coming up around her as they fell into each other, the feeling of being lifted up and up before being lowered, down and down into the sheets.

  Chapter 19

  There was this moment when Olivia was reading a good book where she wanted to stop. Where she got so fully engrossed, so into the story that she never wanted it to end, didn't want to even read another word lest the rest of that world slip away.

  Kissing Harlan was like that. Every moment was like cool water to a drought, like a light in the darkness. The press of his body against her was the sweetest thing she'd ever known, solid and grounding and perfect.

  They'd barely made it onto the bed, their legs still tangled off the side, Olivia's foot still on the floor. And yet she felt like she'd been swept up in a storm already, her skin on fire where his arm was curled around her back. She was pins and needles all over, mind reeling, drunk on touch. When he pulled away, she nearly whined, reaching back toward him.

  “Little dove, are you sure?” He cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking in an absent way as he searched her eyes. She looked into his, finding a steady path in their foggy depths. All her doubts, her worries had disappeared. Harlan wanted her. He thought she was worth wanting. She wanted him, but just as much, she wanted to give him what he wanted. Wanted to give him herself, and pray to god that it was what he needed.

  She nodded up at him, not trusting herself to speak, and reached up. She tucked his hair behind his ear, seeing for the first time how it was patched together and scarred. Sighing gently, she ran her hand down his cheek, fingertips catching against the scar-roughened skin. His eyes bore into her, unflinching. She wondered at him, at seeing in his eyes how this was meaningful for him, too. It seemed so unlikely, so lucky. Half of her still couldn’t understand how he’d been unlucky in love. The other half rejoiced at having him deliver himself so wholly, trustingly into her hands. She felt balanced instead of lost to him - maybe a little lost, but with enough of Harlan to make up the difference. Olivia followed her hand up, lifting up at an awkward angle to kiss him again. She was half bent backward, wildly uncomfortable, but unable to resist meeting his lips with her own.

  Harlan made a sound like a strangled groan and wrapped his arms around her. She was being whisked up, tucked up against the pillows at the top of the bed, before she knew it. He pressed her back against them with kisses, and even though she met him as well as she could, she still felt like she was being swallowed in the best way possible.

  He drew back, running his arms down her sides. “My pretty girl. Just lay back.” She smiled and snuggled back, marveling up at him as he watched his hands, his fingers slipping the tie of her wrap dress undone. He drew it open slowly, and it was like watching a man receiving an incredible gift, finding something he’d always wanted inside. For the first time, she could truly see that he wasn’t confident here, not in his motions but in the strain of his jaw, the uneven way he was breathing.

  “You’re okay?” he confirmed again, his hands coming up her waist to grip her ribs lightly. He looked at her while he asked, rubbing his thumbs over her bra, somehow dragging his blunt nails across her nipples without looking. Olivia shivered, slow thrills shooting tendrils of electric sparks down her spine.

  “I’m good. Really good.” He nodded, lowering his face to her neck and kissing the skin there, nipping her a little to get her to jump before tugging her dress down her arms. The bristles on his face felt different than anything she’d imagined: they scraped without scratching, sending her senses tingling in their wake. She brushed her hand down his beard, toward his chest, and found that he was still fully dressed. “Your turn?”

  “My t- oh.” He shrugged his shirt off, and her view from underneath him was incredible. Rising up above her, he was like a solid wall of muscle and scars and hair and… muscles. Her hands flew up toward his torso without her thinking about it: suddenly all she wanted to do was touch, feel what she’d never thought a man could truly feel like before. He quirked an eyebrow at her, questioning, and she blushed a little. “You’re even better than your picture.”

  Now Harlan blushed, and it was a delight to see. His face was too dark from the sun and the wind to redden as much as hers did, but she could see the warm cast to it, and it tickled her to the soul. It was her turn to laugh, and he finally laughed with her, tossing his shirt to the floor and standing up to strip his pants off. “I don’t know what came over me,” he confessed. As his pants came down, the humor left the room a little. Olivia sat up, forcing herself not to cover her body on instinct.

  “I’m glad it did,” she said, trying for - if not a sexy smirk - at least a smile that bordered on confident. He reached for the waistband of his boxer briefs and paused, giving Olivia a chance to see the way he was already straining the fabric. Finally, everything she’d been missing in the photo was revealed to her, from the arc of his neck to the thick barrel of his dick.

  Sh
e reached for her own bra, but he came back to her, kissing her again and taking over for her. He unhooked her bra and drew it down her shoulders, palming her breasts as he slid his hands by. Next he stripped her of her panties, running his fingertips back up her legs and thighs and up to her hips, making her gasp into his mouth.

  It was a scary, honest feeling being naked together. He gave her a minute to get used to it, doing his best to cover her with losses in the meantime. His beard scraped over her stomach, making her giggle, and her thighs, making her sigh. Once she felt so relaxed she thought she might fall asleep there, open and unafraid, she felt his mouth find her.

  Olivia’s muscles tensed, and she nearly shut her thighs on sheet instinct, but Harlan’s stroking hand soothed the instinct. His tongue worked against her, moving over her slickly, firmly, and chased by the friction-rub of his mustache, his beard. It should have itched but it burned instead, burned like the perfect song or a good cry. She didn't recognize the noises she was making, but they mingled with Harlan’s obscene sounds, twisting her thoughts and her forcing her eyes shut.

  Normally Olivia was afraid to shut her eyes, scared of the way that nightmares and horrible memories followed. But now the darkness was a sweet, enveloping space, where her feelings and reactions expanded out and put, sweeping into every atom. She got lost there, pulled to and fro by pleasured waters, until it was too much and everything at once and she couldn't stand it, didn't want it to stop, opened her eyes -

  “Harlan-” she gasped, and he looked up at her, not stopping, not pausing, and she pulsed and crashed against him.

  He gave her a moment to come down, nuzzling into her hip for a moment before sliding back up her overheated body. He kissed her temple, his body engulfing hers as they leaned into each other.