Lost

by Sarah Ann Walker

  After another kiss, I allowed him to wrap my left leg around his hip, and then I allowed him to raise my right leg around him. I let him raise my arms to circle his neck, and I allowed him to slowly enter me. I allowed him to move inside me slowly with no emotion showing on my face, because I felt nothing but fear and unhappiness all around me.

  When Peter tried to touch my body, I pulled his hand away and whispered, “I’m too sensitive,” which was true and not. But when he looked at me like he knew I had emotionally run away and he tried to pull my legs from his waist so he could stop, I stopped his retreat.

  I needed to have sex and I needed to be screwed. I needed what I had always known so I could feel more like myself again.

  Clenching and grinding, arching and moaning, I suddenly moved hard and fast against Peter. Pulling at him until I forced him to speed up his own movements I looked away from him as he got closer to his release.

  And eventually when he forced my legs from his hips to stand, he came on my stomach like he promised. He came on me instead of in me and the fear faded slightly. After he came on my stomach a kind of relief took over, and I could finally breathe again.

  “I'm going to go,” Peter said sadly and my breath left me on a gasp.

  “Why?” I asked too loudly.

  “I think we need a little break from each other, that's all.”

  “I don't need a break from you,” I heard myself practically beg.

  “I think you do, Sophie. You're not even looking at me the same as you did earlier. You have this look on your face like I'm some kind of monster who’s going to hurt you. I just can't tell if your fear is physical or emotional-”

  “It's emotional,” I said shocking us both.

  “Why? Talk to me,” he asked pushing my wet hair from my cheek.

  “You scare me.”

  “Why?”

  “I'm used to men falling in love with me, but with you I think it'll be the other way around and I don't like that. I feel like you'll use it to hurt me later or something. I'm just not used to feeling something for a man that I couldn't control, and you make me feel very out of control, which I hate.”

  “So we'll talk when you feel this way, and I'll assure you again and again that I'm not looking to hurt you. When you feel out of control talk to me, and I'll try to help. But you have to talk to me, Sophie. Because that closed off, fucking me without emotion thing you just did to me won't work. I'll walk away if I feel like you dislike me and this relationship enough to close down like that.”

  “I wasn’t-” But he cut me off and continued.

  “Fucking because you wanted to be fucked, while you looked at me like I was a monster, when I've done nothing to deserve it, hurt me, Sophie. I had just spent an emotionally charged, sexy as hell evening with you, bringing you to orgasm after only 2 attempts- not 3- in case you didn't realize, which made me feel very close to you, and then you did this thing- this angry fucking thing, and I feel let down by you. Remembering our first time together like that is going to haunt me.”

  “I'm sorry, I just freaked out.”

  “I know you did. We experienced a form of intimacy not many couples experience, but you shut down instead of opening up to me. I would have held you all night and spoke to you until you found yourself secure again, but you didn't let me,” he moaned.

  Feeling Peter’s upset, I was stunned by my reality in that moment. Looking at him, I suddenly found myself burst out laughing.

  “Do you even realize what you sound like? You're not real! Peter, you’re good looking, normal-ish, with a job, and a mortgage, and a degree, and a small business, but you speak like some character out of a romance novel. You're just too much for someone like me. You don't even sound real, and I keep waiting for you to be a serial killer or something,” I said still laughing.

  “Well, I'm no serial killer, and I'm definitely real. Yes, I may seem more emotionally in-tuned to women than most men, but I grew up with 2 sisters I love, who I watched get their hearts broken over and over, so I listened to them tell me everything the men did to them, and I slowly grew into a man who was more aware of women and their needs than other men. Plus, my dad cheated on my mom once and I know how low her self-esteem plummeted after the affair, well after they got back together. So I decided I wasn't going to be an asshole like that. But that's the only thing weird about me, Sophie. I don't want to be an asshole, and I won't change or apologize for it because you have hang-ups, or feel more secure with a typical guy.”

  “I'm sorry. I don't want that. But I will freak out sometimes, and you'll have to be patient with me.”

  “I can be patient. But only if you let me know what's going on so I'm not left wondering what the hell is going on between us. Because honestly Sophie, I feel this crazy pull for you, too. It's heavy, and intense, and all-consuming for me as well. I really like you, and I want to get to the place where I can adore you, just like you want to be.”

  “Oh... See! That's what I'm talking about,” I laughed. “Jesus Christ, Peter. No guy talks like that. Can't you just be normal so I can chill out and stop wanting you so much?”

  “Sure I can,” he grinned. “Hey, Bitch. Get in the kitchen and make me a snack. I'm fucking starving,” he burst out laughing as I smacked his arm.

  “Close. Just leave out the bitch next time,” I grinned.

  “Okay. Can we get out of here so you can make me that snack? I'm starving.”

  “Okay...” I said with a gentle kiss and relief coursing through me.

  A half hour later Peter and I were snuggled on the couch, me in my pj’s and him in just his jeans eating grilled cheese sandwiches with tomato soup, which was his favorite he told me, of course. Because we couldn't even disagree about soup.

  Sitting with Peter, I knew that night he was everything I had ever wanted from a man. I knew it and he proved it to me by sleeping beside me, talking all night, but never again attempting sex with me. He wanted to hold me only, he said, because he was worried I was a little too emotionally fragile for more sex after the night’s earlier events. Instead, he slept beside me and warmed me all night in his arms.

  The following morning when he returned after running to the cafe down the street for our coffee, we talked a little more and planned out our week. He had to work until Wednesday and I had to work until Friday at 3:00 on Christmas Eve, so he insisted he would see me right after work on Friday before the crazy holiday stuff started.

  Then he left me at 11:00 Sunday morning. After 40 hours together, give or take, he actually left me to return to the real world.

  He kissed me good bye at the door and told me he'd miss me. He said he'd try to stop by in the mornings because he didn't think he could go until Friday without seeing me. And when he admitted he couldn’t go that long without seeing me I was instantly calmed because I had a bad feeling I was going to be in knots if I didn't see him for 5 days myself.

  Later that day I drove to my parents’ house with a perma-smile and explained Peter over dinner. I told them everything, shy of exact sexual details, but I did explain how amazing he was for me sexually, how I freaked out and acted like a psycho, and how he talked me back off the ledge.

  My parents were supportive and understanding, and even described a little about their early days and the intensity they had for each other in their beginning as a couple.

  Throughout our conversation Steven stayed somewhat quiet, but not overly so, until he told me when I was finished talking about me and Peter that he was a little jealous. He said his tramp from 2 nights before hadn't called him and he felt totally used which cracked me and my mom up.

  Steven had been heard to say, 'love em and leave em' in the past, so he received no sympathy from my parents and I when he was loved and left.

  After dinner while I waited for my one load of laundry to dry- the tradeoff for giving up my Sunday late afternoon for my mom- I explained my new job in detail. I told them everything I felt; my fears and my excitement over my new career. I even ad
mitted to being scared shitless for the next few days that I was alone without Carole to guide and train me. However, I felt better when my dad pointed out that the last 2 weeks of the holidays were typically quiet and festive in an office setting, so I was starting as office manager at a good time to get my feet wet without being too overwhelmed.

  When I finally left at 8:00, I felt remarkably better about everything. I was still thinking about Peter way too often in my opinion, but I listened when my parents said it was normal to be obsessed at the beginning of a new relationship until the infatuation wore off and you could settle into just loving your partner.

  I was told to enjoy myself and not to let one of my 2 huge new events eclipse the other, but rather to try to balance them equally.

  When I eventually walked into my apartment, I could still smell Peter's scents and lotion in my bedroom making me quickly realize I loved the smell of Jasmine. I had never really known it before him, but I couldn't imagine the rest of my life without the smell of it reminding me of Peter.

  I also realized I had a message on my machine and I dove for it with the hope that I would hear his voice again before I went to bed.

  “Hi Sophie. I'm going into work, but I wanted you to know I had a beautiful time with you- freak outs and all. I think you are amazing, and I look forward to knowing all of you. Sleep well... I'll see you soon.”

  And that was my night. Bouncing around my home, happily cleaning and tidying up everything to start my week off perfectly, thinking about Peter nonstop, while picturing the next time we would be together again.

  CHAPTER 11

  After making it through my first week as Office Manager with only 3 what the hell do I do desperate phone calls to Carole, I was done. Mentally, I was a vegetable, and physically, I was exhausted.

  At the end of the day the staff invited me for a round of drinks to celebrate, but I declined with the excuse of last minute oh shit gifts I still needed to buy quickly.

  I couldn't wait to see Peter, and I couldn't wait to get home. He and I had managed to speak at least once every day, and he had brought me coffee on Tuesday and Wednesday morning, but it wasn't the same.

  The physical craving I had for him was like a slow torture. Every time I got my craving and need for him in check, we would speak on the phone or see each other briefly, and the yearning for him increased again.

  I was messed up over him and I knew it. But we both were going to be off the following week, and Peter told me he was going to monopolize all my time over Christmas, which I desperately wanted.

  When I finally made it home, fighting a ridiculous amount of traffic for a Christmas Eve, I walked into my building to a waiting Peter. Leaning against my door, he looked so good and I wanted to be hugged so badly I nearly wept with the need I had for him.

  “What's wrong, Sophie?” He asked stepping toward me.

  “Nothing at all,” I smiled. “I just really need a Peter hug right now,” I breathed even as he pulled me into his arms.

  So dropping my purse and my satchel filled with notes, I absorbed Peter into my skin. From his scent to his warmth, I took everything I could from him in that moment.

  “You feel so good, Peter,” I whispered into his neck.

  “What's wrong, baby?”

  “Just a long week, and I missed you.”

  “I missed you, too. Let’s go inside.”

  “Okay...” I whispered as I lifted my purse and searched for my keys.

  Once inside, Peter stooped again to unzip my knee high boots, pulling them from me before removing my coat as well. Exhaling, I watched him care for me in his way, and silently, I loved everything about that moment with him. He was like a sort of homecoming for me from my long week of career firsts.

  Pulling me to the couch, he again massaged my feet like the most caring man I had ever known. Sinking further into the couch I watched him watching me until I couldn't handle the stupid grinning anymore.

  “I have something for you, but I'm too tired to get it.”

  “Oh, yeah? I have something for you that I'd love to give you. Do you want it now?”

  “Yes, please,” I grinned as I sat up higher on the couch.

  But when he tried to hand me my gift from his coat pocket, I panicked. “No! I want you to go first in case yours is better than mine!” I yelled as I jumped off the couch and ran for my bedroom closet.

  Laughing at me, Peter asked, “Is this a competition?”

  “Of course,” I yelled back from my room. “It’s the first real event gift, so I have to win.”

  “What about 'it’s better to give than to receive...'“

  “Oh, please. Nobody thinks like that. It's always better to receive an awesome gift,” I smirked again as I entered my living room. “Here. Open it,” I said handing him my gift.

  Laughing at my seriousness, Peter slowly opened my gift for him. “But you loved these,” he said looking at my mantel. “Oh! You found another set?”

  “Yes, but they're a little different. Look at her.”

  “Ah, green eyes... I love them, Sophie. And the candles smell delicious. Thank you...” he said leaning in for a quick kiss while handing me my gift.

  Tearing it open, I could tell it was a book, but, “Oh my god!” I was stunned. Opening the cover, I couldn't believe it was signed. “Where did you get this?” I asked still stunned by the signed copy of Leonard Cohen’s novel Beautiful Losers.

  “eBay,” he smirked.

  “When?”

  “Um, right after we had lunch the first time. You told me you loved that book of his, so I looked and I actually found a signed copy. It's in really good condition, and they promised I'd have it by Christmas. It only arrived yesterday though, so I was a little panicked I wouldn't have it in time. But it’s here now, so there you go,” he smiled proudly.

  Looking at the book, my heart was pounding. I wasn’t going to lie and say I'm all into poetry, because I'm not. But there was always something about Beautiful Losers that I loved. I had a generic copy of the book, but holding a signed 1st edition was so amazing, I couldn't stop staring at it.

  “Peter... It's just... I love it and I can't believe you would do something so thoughtful for me. This is the best present- the most thoughtful gift I've ever received. Honestly, I'm just... I love it,” I choked. Not that I would cry over a book, but if anything could make me cry it would be Peter and his thoughtful ways.

  “I'm glad you like it.”

  “I can't wait to show Steven. He's gonna freak out.”

  “He likes it, too?” Peter asked with a very satisfied smile.

  “A little, but it's just such an awesome gift, he's going to be totally jealous,” I grinned as I began crawling to him.

  Straddling his legs, I took Peter's face in my hands, and I kissed him. I kissed him for the gift, and I kissed him because he kind of was a gift to me.

  “I wish we had more time together,” I whispered against his lips.

  “Me, too. But we have all next week,” he kissed me back.

  “I just want to lay with you right now and breathe you in...” I heard myself say a little surprised by my own sentimentality. I was never sappy, but that's how I felt around Peter- sappy.

  “I'll see you first thing Sunday morning. I'll come over early with coffee with a chocolate shot of course,” he grinned.

  “Ha! You do love me...” I smiled, and then jolted.

  What the hell?! It was just an expression! But the look on his face, and the way my stomach dropped said more than anything I did by mistake.

  I knew I had totally screwed up. But I meant it innocently. I was just like ha ha, you love me for the chocolate only and it didn't matter. But I didn't know how to get out of it, and Peter looked scared of me or something for the first time.

  “It was just an expression Peter, I swear. I know you don't love me. I mean how could you? We barely know each other, and love takes time, and I know you don't love me. I was just saying because of the coffee.” But I co
uldn't stop babbling. “I know you don't love me, I just meant it like funny you love me 'cause of the chocolate shot. I know, and I don't love you either,” which made me back-peddle even more. “Not that I couldn't love you because I might, like one day. But...”

  Holy shit! I was horribly aware that if silence could actually strangle someone, I would've had a garrote wrapped around my throat at that very moment. Jesus, there was no air, and no way to get out of the mess I had accidentally created. And I was miserable.

  “I know what you meant, Sophie. Relax. It's all good,” Peter said moving me from his lap while kissing my lips quickly to ease the burn of his rejection, I think. “What time do you have to be at your parents?” He asked like we were fine, which we clearly weren't.

  “5:30.”

  “Well, I should let you get ready. It's already nearly 4:30, and I'm sure you want to freshen up,” he said moving toward my front door.

  “Peter...”

  “We're fine, Sophie. I'll call you later to wish you a Merry Christmas, okay?”

  Obviously we weren't fine though, and I was scared of him leaving, but annoyed, too. I felt like he was being a totally oversensitive idiot. I mean, of course I didn't mean LOVE. We hadn't even been dating, or whatever, for 2 weeks at that point.

  “Yup. I'll talk to you later,” I heard myself close down. I actually heard it as I spoke. I was sad and pissed off, and I couldn't hide my upset or disappointment in his behavior.

  “Merry Christmas. Have a great night, Sophie.”

  “You, too,” I said while standing to lock the door behind him.

  I had the best gift ever followed by the saddest departure ever. I was a little shell-shocked by the turn of events; completely numb but shaky at the same time. So I decided, screw it.