by S. E. Rose
All four women bust out laughing. “Dude, where do you think we keep shit when we wear things like this?” Bailey says, motioning to their outfits.
“Yeah, I mean, there’s a pocket down here, but I’m not keeping my phone in there,” Finley adds motioning to her crotch.
I close my eyes and groan. “I didn’t mean…OK. Anyhow…” I trail off because I’m without words now. I take a moment to compose myself. “I’m going to say hi to some people I saw inside.”
I walk toward the house and do a lap, saying hi to some fellow teachers and some of my neighbors. But who am I kidding? Every time I pass a window, I peek outside to see if Di is still talking with her friends. I’m not even dating her, and I’m already whipped. I shake my head at myself as I head back outside. If you can’t beat them, join them.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Di
Three drinks in, and I call a ride to get to my brother’s house.
“Who’s coming with me?” I ask.
Sydney glances back at the house and Fin rolls her eyes. “We’re staying here. Tell everyone we said hello.”
Bailey shrugs. “I’ll come. Maybe I can bag a hot athlete.”
I turn to Garrett.
“Yeah, sure,” he mutters.
I shrug, too tipsy to care if people come or not. “Let’s go, our ride is here.”
We make it through the house saying goodbye to Caris as we leave and out to a waiting car. Ten minutes later we are at Kent’s house.
“Damn, that’s some house,” the driver says.
“I guess so,” I say as we get out of the car.
Bailey skips up the driveway, and I giggle at her antics. I’m right behind her until I turn to see Garrett staring at the house.
“You coming?” I ask him.
“Uh, sure. Kent’s house is…wow,” he says.
I look back at my brother’s home. I suppose I used to feel the same way when he first built it. I mean, my parents’ house isn’t small but this house is…well, it’s extra.
“Yep. I guess it is. Come on.” I grab his hand and lead him to the backyard.
There are space heaters placed strategically around the outdoor area. Some people are in costumes and others are in bathing suits in the pool or hot tub. Waiters dressed in black and white walk around carrying trays of drinks and food. There is a small tent set up that connects into the house and through the windows in the tent a bar is visible with guests lined up to get drinks.
“So, this is how the other half lives?” Garrett states as he takes in the scene in front of him.
“It’s something,” I declare.
I search around but don’t see my brother outside. “Di! You made it!” a voice yells from the pool. I glance down to see Ward Snare, my brother’s good friend, and a baseball player. Ward is in a banana hammock that leaves nothing, and I mean nothing to the imagination.
I watch as Bailey’s eyes nearly pop out of her head.
“Hey, Ward. Where’s Kent?” I call out, trying to avert my gaze from his junk.
“Oh, KJ’s inside somewhere. Something about being boring.”
I chuckle. “Right. See you later.” I start to the back slider that leads to the family room which I can see is packed with people.
“Y-you don’t want to stay by the pool?” Bailey asks, her head snapping back to watch Ward dive into the deep end.
“Uh, nope.”
Garrett seems shell-shocked to have met Ward. He’s looking around as though he might see a million other famous people. I roll my eyes. “Come on, my little celebrity stalkers, let’s go find the host.”
They follow me into the house and all three of us freeze. I can’t believe Kent told me this was some low-key party. There’s a stage set up on the far side of the two-story room. And my brother’s other best friend Amery, his wife, Lyla, and her best friend Nate are all on stage singing karaoke to W.A.P. It’s the best and worst thing that I’ve ever needed to unsee.
“What in the actual fuck?” Bailey asks as she watches them. They are all definitely drunk, like the type of drunk that is going to result in all three of them passing out on random pieces of furniture and waking up with a need for a bucket in the morning.
“Who’s that?” Garrett asks, motioning to the crew on the stage.
“Those are Kent’s friends.”
“That middle one looks familiar,” he says as I start to drag him through dancing guests toward the game room downstairs.
“That’s Amery Walsh.”
Garrett stops, and I nearly go flying. I spin around and see his head is craning to get another look at the stage.
“Come on. If you hang out at my parents’ house more, you’ll eventually meet them all, and trust me, it’ll be a far better environment to converse with them because those three are three sheets to the wind.”
“Huh?” he says. I yank his hand realizing I just used one of Gran Tilly’s sayings about drunk people.
“Just, let’s go.” I practically drag his ass downstairs and head to the playroom.
The door is open, and I hear guests inside. I look around and spot my brother at the air hockey table playing with another baseball player whose name fails me at the moment because he just got traded to our team.
“Is that…” Garrett trails off as he looks at the guy.
Bailey sighs. “Bishop Henson?”
I nod as I remember his name. “Uh, yep.”
Garrett and Bailey follow me.
“You made it!” Tabby squeals as she comes charging at me from somewhere in the room.
She’s wearing her typical cat costume, and I giggle as I tweak her ears.
“Hey. The party is hopping,” I state.
She groans. “I know. Tomorrow’s cleanup is going to suck ass.”
I roll my eyes. “Like Kent didn’t hire someone to do it.”
She shrugs. “Still. We’re gonna have at least a dozen drunk-ass partiers lying around the house.”
“I guess it’s a small price to pay to the party gods.”
She giggles at my phrasing. “I suppose. You guys need a drink?” She motions to our empty hands.
“Hells to the yeah, I want to be one of those drunk-ass partiers,” Bailey quips.
Tabby laughs and motions for us to follow her. We meander back through the house and into the kitchen which is bustling with serving staff and a chef.
“Hey, Tabby,” the chef says as she opens a small wine and beer fridge.
“Hey, Clyde.” She motions to the fridge. “Help yourselves.”
We all grab various drinks and follow Tabby back through the house. “Enjoy!” she says as she swirls around and bounces back across the room. She has her camera around her neck and is taking pictures of her guests.
“She’s a photographer?” Garrett asks, his voice loud over the music.
“Yeah. You want to see her studio?” I ask.
“Sure.”
“Bailey?”
Bailey glances my way and then back at Bishop. “I…you go ahead. I’m gonna dance a bit.”
I roll my eyes and head back outside. There’s a trail that is lined with little lights that connect to a drive that winds through the woods to the studio that Kent built for Tabby. The old barn is lit up, but no one is there. I punch in the code on the door and open it.
We step inside, and Garrett looks around.
“She’s good,” he notes as he walks by several large photos blown up and printed onto canvas. They are photos of D.C. and some of Banneker. She has a cute one of Ash that is hanging near her desk.
“Come out here often?” he inquires as he finishes studying her work.
Shrugging, I glance around. “No, not really. I just like to see what she’s been working on. She changes out her artwork seasonally and donates some of the art to charity or gives them to friends.”
“You’re lucky to have your family.”
“I…know,” I stammer at his comment. He’d said something like that a few weeks ag
o. I guess I really do sometimes take my family for granted.
We stand in the middle of the studio, side by side, looking at the photo of Main Street. It’s from the spring and the cherry blossoms on the trees are all pink and white, daffodils dot along the sidewalk, and every window box is overflowing with flowers.
“You have to admit that Banneker is a fucking cool-ass town,” he states.
“I can’t argue with that either.”
His shoulder grazes mine. I glance over and see that neither of us has touched our drinks. Without turning, he takes the small wine bottle from my hand and sets it on the counter next to his bottle of beer. Before I can ask what he’s doing, his lips are on mine, his hands cupping my face.
I don’t stop him, in fact, I let the floodgates open. I’ve tried so damn hard for a month now to not want him, to slow this train down, but I can’t do it any longer. I need him and I want him and fuck it, if he breaks my heart, so be it.
As we kiss, I feel him walking us backward and then he slowly lowers me onto a pile of pillows that Tabby keeps in her studio as props. Ash calls it her Pillow Palace because there are so many pillows.
He pulls back, and I gaze up at him while he gazes back down at me.
“I don’t want to wait two more weeks,” he murmurs, our noses nearly touching, his hot breath fanning my lips.
“I don’t want to wait either,” I admit with a sigh of relief. He kisses me again, his fingers reaching behind me to unzip the mermaid skirt. He peels it and my thong down my legs and tosses them to the side as I unclasp my bra and pull off my wig. He stands again and slowly removes his Superman costume. I smirk as he takes off the cup, but once it’s removed, my smirk completely evaporates.
Holy erection, Batman! Garrett’s body is insane. Like, supermodel, professional-athlete crazy. How is that even possible?
He palms his cock and looks down at me. I motion with my finger for him to come back down. He does, getting to his knees and kissing his way up my legs, his large hands slowly spreading them apart as he nears the apex of my thighs.
He looks up at me one last time as he lowers his head to my sex and licks it. My eyes close as a soft moan escapes my lips.
My hands fly to his hair as my hips rise to meet his mouth. He doesn’t hold back as he licks and sucks and nips at my folds. I feel myself flying toward a release. When he slowly pushes a finger inside me and curls it forward, rubbing me from the inside, I lose it.
My cries echo off the walls of the expansive room. My eyes open as I feel his body hovering over me.
“I don’t have…the outfit didn’t really have room for…not that I was planning,” he stammers.
I grin up at him. “Garrett, I’m on birth control and I’m fairly certain you haven’t been with anyone in months and neither have I.”
“Are you sure?” he asks as the head of his erection slides across my belly.
“Very,” I state.
“I’ve never…” He trails off and looks down at where our bodies are nearly joined, his cock sliding between my folds. “Fuck, you have no idea how good that feels.”
I take his dick in my hands, rubbing it up and down my wet slit until we both are panting. Then, raising my hips, I guide him inside me.
We both release breaths once he’s fully seated in my tight channel. He feels so insanely good. I’ve only ever had sex without a condom once, five years ago with a boyfriend who I thought was the one. But the sex never felt like this.
All thoughts leave my body as he begins to grind his hips, his erection moving in and out of me, sliding against my most intimate skin, slick with my arousal.
He leans back down, and our mouths begin to explore each other. I don’t want this to end. I need this. Fuck, I need this.
Our bodies quicken their pace as we reach our climax. Both of us crying out together. He cradles me as we lie there in silence. Seconds pass as we both slow our breathing.
Then, out of nowhere, I’m suddenly overcome with emotion. It’s too much. He feels too good. This feels too right. A fear I didn’t know I had creeps up inside of me, like a slow-rolling wave. I feel myself splintering, the real me still there, still wanting love.
I feel hot tears sting my eyes.
He brushes his thumb under one, catching the tear.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, his brows furrowed in concern.
“I…you don’t want this,” I state, biting my trembling lip.
“Di, what do you mean? Of course, I do.”
I shake my head. “I still love romance. I tried to stop. I tried focusing on so many things this past month, but last night I read one of those books my grandmother gave me. I loved it. I don’t want to stop loving romance. It’s who I am. And you…don’t want that.” The last words are barely a whisper.
The tears that were hardly there a moment ago are now in full force, running down my cheeks in waterfalls too big for Garrett’s thumbs to catch. I sit up, and he leans back to give me space. I watch him run a hand through his hair.
I put my hand on his thigh. “I’m sorry. I wish I could change that. I wish I could stop caring about love, but I won’t. I know that now.”
“Di…” He trails off with a pained look in his eye. I know I’ve fucking blown it. We’re back where we started, one hundred percent completely incompatible.
I hold up a finger to his lips. “It’s OK. We can finish this project together and forget that…well, we can just go back to being friends. I still like you. I want to be your friend. I don’t want to lose that.”
He stands up and holds out a hand to me. I struggle to my feet and start pulling up my underwear and skirt, followed by my bra. I’m fairly certain my face is now as red as my wig.
“Maybe we should…” He looks around and I know that it’s over. He hasn’t changed any more than I have.
“Yeah, I’ll walk you out,” I say, cutting him off as I lock up the studio, and we stroll in silence down the drive. He opens his mouth to speak a few times as we walk, but then closes it. By the time we reach the drive, he’s called a car service and it’s already pulling up at the bottom of the driveway.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper to him.
He turns to me and cups my face, searching my eyes for God knows what. “Don’t be sorry for who you are, Di. Don’t ever be sorry for that.”
He kisses me gently, barely touching my lips. It feels most definitely like a goodbye kiss.
“We could talk, you know?” he says as he pulls back, searching my face as though trying to figure out how I so abruptly changed.
I shake my head. “No.” I look down unable to meet his stare.
And with that, he pulls away and gets in the car. I stand there watching it drive away, watching him leave with all the possibilities of what we could have been.
Garrett
What in the actual fuck just happened?
I stare out the window as I drive by a few groups of people in costumes. The ride seems to take no time as I realize we are already back at my house. I bid the driver goodnight and head inside. Realizing that I’ll have to go grab my car tomorrow.
I can still smell her on me. I can still taste her on my lips. My mind tries to make sense of what just happened. One second we’re having sex, and the next she’s telling me it’s over just as it’s starting.
Is she right? Am I destined to be some curmudgeonly, old man who says love isn’t real?
If love isn’t real, then why does this hurt so badly?
I decide I can’t answer that right now. I need to sleep and process things in the morning. I have too many thoughts and feelings spiraling around to make sense of it all. And the alcohol in my system doesn’t help things.
I crawl into my bed after yanking off my Superman costume. I don’t bother showering; I don’t even brush my teeth as I let myself start to fall asleep.
The last thing on my mind as unconsciousness prevails is Di.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Normally, I wake up refreshed.
But not today.
I have a disgusting taste in my mouth from the alcohol. I’m sweaty and gross and I just want to shower, brush my teeth, and crawl back into bed.
While brushing my teeth in the shower, don’t judge, I start to replay the events of last night. Everything was going so well, like, really fucking well. The sex was…I can’t remember sex ever being that good before or wanting someone as badly as I wanted Diana.
And then, she just did a total one-eighty. One second she’s screaming out my name in pleasure, and the next second she’s telling me we can’t be together at all.
Maybe she’s right, maybe we don’t work. But what’s really bothering me is that I knew she still loved romance. As soon as she dragged me to that freaking book signing, I knew she hadn’t completely done away with the idea of love and romance, and still, I wanted her.
I toss my toothbrush on my sink and get dressed as I continue my self-examination. If that knowledge didn’t scare me away, then, maybe, deep down, the whole romance thing doesn’t bother me. Fuck, do I actually believe in true love, too? No, that’s crazy.
I pour myself a coffee and walk out onto my front porch. I stare at the mums I planted along my front walkway last week. I probably should start working on my next house project, but today, I feel too confused and…upset to concentrate on anything.
“What’s eating you? Did you lose a costume contest last night?” Sam asks as he wanders down from his porch to mine.
I put my elbows on my thighs, holding my coffee between my spread legs. The look on my face must giveaway that it’s way worse than that.
“Well, shit, spill it,” Sam says as he takes a seat next to me.
“I…” I trail off because I don’t even know where to start.
“Well, I saw you at Caris’s last night with Diana and her friends, so start there,” he urges as he leans back as though preparing to listen to some sort of epic saga.
I slowly tell him everything that happened, filling in with some details of how Di and I have been spending a lot of time together recently. When I finish, I look over at him.
