by Naomi Martin
Ryan put me at ease from the start. Our conversation was light, easy, and a lot of fun. Maybe I didn’t laugh as hard or as much as I did with Xavier, and maybe our conversation wasn’t as intellectually challenging as the one with Lucas, but it was real. He told me so much about him and opened up in ways I think even he was surprised by. There is a depth to Ryan I found surprising and really connected with.
Of course, remembering Ryan and our night together up on the bluffs brings a flush to my face and makes my insides churn. I can still feel him inside of me, and I revel in the sensations that swept through me. The mere thought of it quickens my pulse and warms me from the inside out. The smile creeps across my face before I can stop it and Katie laughs, pointing at me.
“I knew it. I knew you were holding things back from me.”
I look away from her. “I wasn’t intentionally holding anything back. I mean, I didn’t mean to. I was just—”
“Processing, I know,” she interrupts. “But processing time is over. It is now time to spill.”
“I’d rather hear about you and Danny.”
She giggles. “Nothing to tell yet. We’re going out this weekend. And, unlike you, I shall be a good friend who is sure to report back to you with all the details.”
I chew on a french fry and give her the finger, a smile on my face. She balls up a napkin and tosses it at me, laughing out loud.
“So, come on, spill. Details,” she insists.
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, then chew on another fry to give myself a moment to compose my thoughts—half hoping she’ll decide it’s not worth it and move on to another subject. But Katie leans forward, silently pressuring me with her eyes.
“Fine,” I laugh.
I tell her all about Ryan taking me out for a nice dinner at a sushi place the next town over. After that, we walked down on the beach and talked for a while, and then we went up to the bluffs. I’m content to leave it at that, but Katie, being as perceptive as she is, somehow ferrets out the fact that I’m holding something back. So I tell her about how we ended the evening—obviously not giving her all of the graphic details. Some things just need to remain private.
“Oh my God,” she gasps. “You slept with them? All of them?”
I cringe and look around. “Gee, Katie, say it a little louder. I’m not sure they heard you in San Francisco.”
“Sorry.” She laughs softly then leans forward.
“And no, I didn’t sleep with all of them,” I whisper. “Just Ryan.”
“I knew it! I just knew it,” she beamed. “So, tell me about it. How was it? Was he good? Was he big?”
“Katie!” I bury my face in my hands and laugh.
“Well, come on, give me some details,” she presses. “I need details. Especially now that I’m getting together with Danny. I need some instructions or examples—”
“Oh my God. Watch some porn. You can find plenty online.”
She continues to tease me, and I spend the next half hour blushing and laughing along with her until we say goodnight to Annie and head out. I walk Katie to her street and promise to text her when I get home, then walk briskly to my own house, keeping an eye on the streets all around me. Thankfully, I make it home without incident. Once inside, I quickly lock the door, peering out the window again just to be sure there’s nobody on the street. There isn’t.
“Hey, honey, how was dinner?”
My dad’s voice startles me and I drop my purse, a sharp squeal bursting from my throat as I spin around to see him standing in the kitchen doorway.
“Jesus, Dad. What are you doing here?”
He laughs. “I live here. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I’m good.”
“You seem a little jumpy. What’s up, Tatum?”
I briefly consider telling him about what happened the night when I was followed. But I quickly discard the idea. I don’t need helicopter dad monitoring my every move.
“Nothing. I was lost in thought and you startled me. That’s all,” I say.
He nods and scoops a spoonful of peanut butter into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully as he looks at me. I can see he’s not convinced by my explanation, but he doesn’t challenge me on it.
“So, listen, I’m going to have to go out of town on business tomorrow,” he says.
A white-hot needle of fear pierces my heart at the thought of having to be home alone. It’s silly, I know. Nothing has happened since that night I was chased—no creepy guys following me, no weird phone calls, nothing. But the thought of being alone in the house still scares me.
“H-how long will you be gone?”
“Just a few days,” he replies. “Sorry to hit you with it like this, but they just dropped it on me today.”
“No, I understand.” I try to hide the shakiness in my voice.
He looks at me closely for a minute, no doubt seeing the fear that’s coursing through me, but he’s kind enough not to comment on it. He clears his throat and gives me a small smile.
“You know, it would make me feel better if you had Katie stay with you while I was gone,” he says.
I return his smile, grateful for his discretion. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. You know, since it’ll make you feel better and everything.”
“Okay, good,” he replies. “And on that note, I’m going to take a shower and head to bed—I’m on the early flight.”
“Good times.”
“Yeah, should be a blast.”
I step over to him and, standing on my tiptoes, give him a kiss on the cheek. He pulls me into a tight embrace and kisses the top of my head.
“Okay, kiddo, sleep well tonight.”
“You too, old man.”
He disengages and heads upstairs, leaving me to lock up down here. I double-check all of the doors and windows and it’s only when I’m confident nothing short of a horde of rampaging zombies with chainsaws can get in that I feel comfortable going upstairs.
I close the door to my room behind me and turn on the light, then sit down at my desk and fire up my computer. Once it boots up, I set some music to play and call up my email. I’m not tired enough to go to sleep yet, so I scroll through Facebook and Twitter, laughing at some of the ridiculous things I see.
My phone rings and I snatch it up, expecting it to be one of my boys. I glance at the caller ID and see it’s from a blocked number, so I connect the call and hold the phone to my ear.
“Hello?”
There’s no answer, but I can hear some noise in the background. I strain my ears, listening to the other end of the line. It’s faint, but I make out somebody breathing and it sends a cold finger slithering down my spine.
“Who is this?” I demand.
Again, I get no answer and my sense of unease thickens.
“Hello?”
The breathing on the other end of the line seems to quicken and my heart stutters in my chest. I quickly hit the disconnect button, ending the call. I stare at the phone like it’s a bomb that’s about to go off in my hand. And when it rings again, I nearly jump out of my skin.
I look at the screen. Blocked number. I swallow hard, my hand trembling. Against my better judgment, I connect the call again and hold the phone to my ear, holding out hope that it’s one of the boys just screwing with me.
“Who is this?”
Nobody answers, but I can still hear them on the other end of the line. As I stand there with the phone to my ear, it occurs to me that this could be the guy who chased me. But that would mean he knows me and, somehow, got my number. I haven’t given my number to many people, which narrows down the suspect pool, but still—I don’t know who this could be and it’s scaring the crap out of me.
The last thing I want to do though is show fear. That will only encourage whoever this creep is. I force myself to calm down and when I speak, I put as much authority into my voice as I can.
“If you’re not going to say anything, stop calling me.”
I disconnect the call and dr
op my phone on the desk. I sit there, staring at it like it’s a snake, coiled and ready to strike. And when it rings again, I’m ready for it and decline the call. It rings again and I decline that, as well.
When the phone doesn’t ring again for a few minutes, I let out a breath I didn’t even realize I was holding. But then it chimes with an incoming text and, with a trembling hand, I pick up my phone and call up my messages. There’s one new text from a number I don’t recognize. Licking lips that are suddenly dry, I open the message.
I see you. I’m watching you. Always.
I drop the phone and back away from it, fear-fueled adrenaline flowing through my body in a torrent. I run over and flip off the light switch, plunging myself into darkness. I stand completely still, not moving, not even breathing as I listen to the sounds of the house.
The urge to run to my father’s room and tell him what’s happening is powerful, nearly overwhelming. I reach for the doorknob but pause. What can I tell him? I got scared by somebody on the street? I got a few creepy phone calls? I mean, nothing actually happened. And I can’t prove it wasn’t somebody I know. No, for now I won’t say anything to him. Not until I really have something to tell.
I move over to the window and, looking at the darkness of the forest beyond our back fence, feel a flutter of fear battering my insides. As I stand there, I can feel eyes on me. Maybe I’m just freaking myself out. Maybe those phone calls have me imagining things. But standing in front of my window, I’m sure I can feel somebody out there, watching me from the cover of the forest. I can’t see them, but I know they’re there all the same.
I back away from the window, feeling more scared than I’ve ever been in my entire life.
Chapter Nineteen
“Okay, you have to be close to a decision, right?” Xavier says.
I look up from my plate and take a big bite of my burger to keep myself from having to answer the question. With my mouth full of food, I give him a goofy smile.
“Yeah,” Ryan says. “You’ve been out with all of us. Surely you know that I’ve won by now.”
Lucas and Xavier roll their eyes. But then they all turn their attention to me again. I’m trapped between them in the booth at the back of Patty’s, doing my best to sink into the floor. Or turn invisible. Either one would be fine with me at this point.
I’ve spent a lot of time with each of them over the last few weeks. I’ve been on a couple of dates with each of the boys now and have gotten incredibly close to all of them. Making a decision is difficult, if not impossible because there is something about each of them I find compelling. I connect with each of them on a deep level that’s surprising -- even to me. The idea of keeping one and cutting two fills me with a profound sadness that I’d rather not contemplate.
Lucas laughs. “Let’s not put too much pressure on her, guys. This is a big decision.”
“Thank you, Lucas.” I reply.
He gives me that adorable grin that makes my heart turn somersaults. “That being said, have you made a decision?”
“Et tu, Brute?” I say.
He chuckles and gives me a shrug. “I’m curious to see which one of us you pick, that’s all.”
At this point, I’ve become so attached to all three of them that I honestly can’t help but feel like picking one is like asking which two limbs I’m okay with losing. They each have something special and unique about them that I absolutely adore, and I know that whoever I pick, the decision will forever alter the relationship I have with the other two.
Sure, they’re having some good-natured fun with this whole thing now, but when we come to the end of this farce and two are left out in the cold, what will happen? Feelings will be hurt—irrevocably so. I know how teenage boys can be, and I worry that the two I don’t choose will not even want to be friends.
What started off as a silly, goofy fun thing is quickly turning into a horrible lose-lose situation for me.
“I just need a little more time,” I finally say. “I need to gather a little more data. Surely you can appreciate that, right Lucas?”
He grins and nods. As the most cerebral of the three, I know he can understand the rationale. I also know he’s smart enough to see that I’m just delaying the inevitable by kicking the can down the road a ways. Of course, judging by the way Xavier and Ryan are grinning at me, they do, too.
“What do you think guys?” Ryan asks. “Should we give her some more time to decide? I mean, it’s only giving you two a false sense of hope, but if you want to drag your disappointment out, that’s your call.”
They both laugh and give Ryan the finger, and he gives me that smile that warms me from the inside. Although I like him for a lot of other reasons, the physical attraction between Ryan and I is overwhelming. Not that I’m not attracted to Xavier and Lucas -- I very much am. But with Ryan, it’s primal. It’s visceral. There’s just something about him that stokes the flames of desire in me in ways nobody ever has before.
It was why I slept with Ryan—I just couldn’t control myself. I’ve kissed both other boys, but we haven’t gone any further than that. I want to. I mean, I really want to. But the thought of sleeping with all three of them kind of makes me feel a little slutty. I know the thought stems from ingrained social norms about a woman and her sexuality—norms that, as an independent, modern woman, I reject wholeheartedly.
What I’m finding, though, is that it’s easy to reject those norms philosophically and mentally, but much harder to shake them off in practice.
“I am going to assert my right to seek out more information before making a final decision,” I say with a laugh.
Xavier grins. “Wait, who said you have any rights in this contest?”
“I do,” I tell him. “You can’t force a girl to make a decision she’s not ready to make.”
“She’s right,” Lucas cuts in. “Let’s get off her back and give her the time she needs.”
“You only say that because you’re the least likely to win.” Ryan grins at him.
Lucas laughs and throws a fry that bounces off Ryan’s forehead. As he retaliates and engages Lucas in a brief food fight, I catch Xavier’s eyes and he gives me a smile. There’s a depth in his gaze that makes my insides churn and I find myself lingering on his full lips, remembering what they felt like against mine. I feel my face flush and Xavier smiles as if intuiting my thoughts.
“I hate to break things up, but I need to go finish up a paper,” Ryan announces.
“Yeah, unfortunately, I do too,” Lucas groans.
We all slide reluctantly out of the booth and walk outside together. Despite being uncomfortable with all of the pressure of making a decision, I’m also not looking forward to going home. I never called Katie to ask her to come stay with me, because I didn’t want to feel like a foolish, helpless child.
I mean, I don’t think a heavy breather on the phone is exactly cause for alarm. Not even when combined with the creepy guy on the street. I don’t even know that the two things are related. I think it’s all probably a combination of being in a new place, an overactive imagination, and the finely-tuned ability to freak myself out. What’s that old saying again? Better to remain quiet and be thought a fool than to speak and remove all doubt.
Xavier gives my arm a gentle squeeze. “Can I give you a lift home?”
Thinking about walking home by myself, in the dark, when I’m already in a freak out state of mind, doesn’t sound entirely appealing to me right now, so I nod.
“I’d appreciate that,” I reply.
We all say goodnight and as Ryan and Lucas walk away, Xavier wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me to him, leading me off in the opposite direction. He holds the car door open for me and I climb in, flashing him a smile.
“Such a gentleman,” I say.
“That’s me.”
I squeeze his arm. “I know.”
He starts the car and pulls out of the lot. A few minutes later, he pulls to a stop in front of my house and puts the car in p
ark. I like that even though he knows my father isn’t home, he doesn’t assume he’s invited in or have any expectations. That’s just one way he differs from Ryan—who would already be walking me to the door, fully anticipating some sex. He’s cocky that way. But not Xavier. It’s sweet.
I turn to him and smile. “Thanks for the lift.”
“Of course. Anytime, Tatum,” he says. “You gonna be okay?”
I nod. “Yeah, I’m good.”
“Tough girl.”
“That’s me.” I give him a smile. “Anyway, I should get inside.”
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow, then.”
I open the car door and start to get out, but then I pause and then turn back to him. Our eyes are locked together as I lean close. Xavier’s breath is warm and when I press my mouth to his, sliding my tongue past his lips, sensations explode within me. Our tongues swirl around one another as I rake my fingers through his hair.
Our kiss grows hot and passionate and Xavier presses himself forward, sliding his hand up my thigh. I lay my hand down on top of his, halting his progress, and pull back, my breath quickened and my hormones raging out of control.
“I want to,” I tell him. “I just… I don’t think I’m ready just yet.”
He places a soft, tender kiss on the tip of my nose and smiles. “And that’s okay. We aren’t going to do anything you’re not ready to do. I don’t want you to feel pressured. Except maybe about picking one of us. Or, more precisely, picking me.”
We share a laugh and although his last comment about making a decision was light and playful, I can hear the anxiousness in his voice. He’s clearly worried about where—or if—he fits into my life. I lean forward and kiss him again, exploring his mouth with my tongue while trying to put every ounce of emotion I feel for him into that kiss just to reassure him that yes, indeed, he has a place in my life.
Except, I’m so conflicted and torn, I don’t know what that place is just yet.
