by Mimi Flood
“You!”
“I didn’t realize I was such a funny person.”
“Now, now, don’t be like that,” he said, reaching for my hand. I felt its warmth and couldn’t deny how nice it felt in mine, but still, I wanted to pull away.
“Like what? Annoyed that you’re making fun of me when I’m trying to have a serious conversation?”
“Yes, precisely like that.”
We made another turn and I took note that we were a few minutes from his house.
Good. I couldn’t wait to get out of the car.
“Elle, we had sex, that’s it. And I appreciate your optimism, but I never said I was looking for more. Just like I’m pretty sure you’re not looking for more either. Especially, not right now.”
He was right. The entire day had been so dreamlike, I guess I had just assumed that what had happened between us meant he wanted more. And at least he knew I wasn’t in the right head space to start a relationship.
“But last night, at the bar, what happened. I like you, I do, but I can’t get into a relationship right now. I shouldn’t have led you on.”
“You didn’t lead me on,” he said, bewildered. “I don’t want you to feel like this needs to be anything more than what it is right now.”
We pulled up to Devon’s house and he turned off the ignition. We sat in silence, the engine’s ticking the only sound between us.
“Look,” he began, turning to face me. “I won’t deny that I really like you, but the last thing I want is for you to feel that what happened today shouldn’t have happened.” I felt myself relax a little as he continued. “Today was by far one of the best days I’ve had in a very, very long time and I hope you enjoyed it as much. But I don’t expect you to commit to anything because of it. If you go home and we aren’t anything more than these past few hours, that’s alright with me.”
His honesty amazed me—it was refreshing to have a man actually speak his mind and say how he felt. His hand reached over to mine again, inundating me with relief. He understood what I was going through, probably more than anyone else, and wasn’t, as I had feared, taking advantage of it. Much to my own surprise, I was comfortable with the fact that though we’d had sex, it didn’t have to go any further than that.
Furthermore, I could see how I had dodged a bullet; it would be so incredibly easy to fall for Devon. Physical attraction aside, I liked him as a person; he was sweet, intelligent and so kind, all of which had been highlighted over the last few days. I became certain that I had done the right thing and that nipping this in the bud had been a good idea.
We got out of the car and I leaned into him, kissing him on the cheek. With a very subtle shift, the corner of his mouth gently grazed mine sending shock waves through me.
“Thank you for today, Devon.”
I tried to step back but his hand took mine.
“Why does it have to end now? Come inside for a bit,” he suggested, his eyes full of suggestion. “For a drink?”
“But, I thought we just agreed that this wouldn’t become more.”
“Sure, but that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy each other’s company a little while longer.”
I became weak in the knees just from the look he gave. I knew I should go home to clear my mind—and definitely to take another shower—but I threw caution to the wind. The truth was that I liked being in the bubble of distraction he created. It was nice and warm and incredibly sexy.
“Just for a little while,” I said, accepting his offer, as he led me inside.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I followed Devon through the wood-panelled hallway toward the living room. While he got us drinks, I stood at the windows and watched the lake below. The sun was beginning to lower in the sky, the light getting softer but still making the water glisten and sending sparkles across its surface. I couldn’t be sure if it was what had happened between us, or the simple beauty of the day, but I felt a sudden shift within me as if I couldn’t possibly dislike Frelighsburg any longer. Its quiet, unassuming beauty was clear to me now and mixed in with my nostalgia for simpler days, I found that I could now understand why so many people fell in love with the area.
Devon walked over with two drinks in hand. It was sweet and orange and entirely too fancy, garnished with a piece of orange peel.
“Wow,” I said, taking a sip. “You’ve outdone yourself.”
“I like making things look good.” He seemed proud of this fact.
“Just like this house,” I added.
“I suppose.”
He went to the sofa and I followed. We sat side by side in the large cream-coloured sectional, him putting his feet on the coffee table. He let out a long, relaxed breath and leaned back.
“So,” I said, trying to fill the silence. “You’re into horses?”
“Love them. Have since I was a kid and my dad used to take me. Never had my own until…” He trailed off, his eyes becoming distant. “Until I got the inheritance.”
“Oh, of course,” I stuttered. “Well, at least you used it for something that makes you happy.” I shook my head, feeling like a fool for what I was saying.
“Hmm,” he replied, rubbing his hand up and down his thigh.
“Don’t they make you happy, the horses?”
“Yes, they do. But I guess lately I’ve been looking for something to fill this void. I’m starting to think it might be impossible. I miss my parents so much sometimes and even when I try to escape a little, and try new things, I never feel like that will stop.”
He seemed nervous and I felt like I should change the subject. I didn’t like the darkness that was seeping out of him.
“I don’t think it’s ever supposed to stop,” I replied, feeling a surge of sadness. “But I guess I should keep that in mind.”
“Shit, I didn’t mean…I shouldn’t have said that.” he started, putting his arm around my shoulders. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I brought it up.”
“True, you did,” he winked, playfully.
I laughed with him, feeling at ease yet again. I leaned back against the sofa, feeling his arm around me. I could tell he was watching me.
“Seriously, though, I can’t believe I missed it.”
“Missed what?”
“You. When we were kids.”
“Stop it. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I think I do.”
He leaned in and kissed me on my cheek, then my lips. He pulled me by the waist and I turned to him, putting my leg over his lap. He kissed my neck and my collarbone, slowly moving down my chest. I couldn’t help but look back at the windows, suddenly feeling shy and exposed.
“Um, can we go to your bedroom?”
“Why?” he asked, his voice muffled, never ceasing his kisses.
“People will see us.”
“They won’t.”
“They might. I saw you, didn’t I?”
He sat back up, looking at me with playful annoyance.
“Sure, but I was standing right in front of the window.”
He got up and walked over. Not thinking anything of it, I went to stand next to him. Before I knew it, I was in his arms again, but this time he had me pressed against the window.
“Now, they’ll definitely see us.”
I giggled and let his kisses win me over. Though I surrendered to him, I knew in the back of mind that there was no way I would let him get me naked for the whole world to see, despite what he might be thinking.
He picked me up and carried me to his bedroom. His strength and apparent ease with carrying me up the flight of stairs turned me on even more than I thought possible.
We reached his bedroom, the sight of his bed made me grateful I would now be conscious and remember getting into it. I was giddy with excitement and couldn’t believe this was happening again. It was intoxicating, to say the least—the feeling of being drunk off of one another and from wanting each other so bad.
I could get used to th
is, I thought, my brain now void of doubts and second guesses. We frantically undressed as if we were on a schedule as if the moment was soon to disappear. The rapidity of it all took second, but once we were sufficiently naked, time slowed down.
I took him in my hand and stroked up and down. He licked his lips as I pushed him back onto the bed. Slowly I put him in my mouth, pleasantly surprised at how delicious he tasted. A low moan escaped his mouth, making me push him in further. Moving my mouth back and forth, and with gradual pressure, I felt him get harder. I also felt incredibly powerful. He moaned my name and bit his lip, making me continue with even more vigour. I could feel he was getting close to coming as I gently sucked on the tip.
He let out a loud grunt before saying, “Stop.”
My eyes bolted open, as I stopped, unsure why. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong,” he said, panting and cradling my face with his hands. “I don’t want to come just yet.”
I blushed. With one swift move, he flipped me on to my back and then slammed into me hard. Loudly, I screamed, hearing my voice echo in the large room. He held my arms down as he thrust himself into me, his eyes never closing, never breaking their gaze into mine. My legs wrapped around his waist, watching beads of sweat appear on his brow. Our bodies found a rhythm I had never found before, bringing me to my much-needed release. As we came simultaneously, he peered into my eyes, deeper still and I felt something shift within me. Something profound, momentous. I tried to dismiss it and blame it on the orgasm I had just experienced, but I knew deep, deep down it was far more than that.
Gently, he pulled out of me and cradled me in his arms, our foreheads touching. We looked at each other and I couldn’t think of one single thing to say. I couldn’t even find something funny to break the seriousness of the moment.
He didn’t say anything either, making the silence that much more profound. Then, his hand reached up, his fingers brushed the hair out of my face and just rested there. I had never felt anything like it before. His gaze and the way he was holding me—it was a million times more intense than our earlier experiences. But, even acknowledging that I wasn’t about to admit it to him.
His words from earlier came back to me. I remembered how he had simplified what was happening between us and had admitted he wasn’t trying to turn this into something serious. I had to remind myself of that as much and as often as possible.
“You’re so beautiful. You know that?”
“Shut up,” I said, the spell now broken. I tried to turn away from him, but he held me tight.
“I won’t. Clearly, you haven’t been told enough.”
“I think you just enjoyed your blow job a little too much.”
He laughed his loud, powerful laugh and hugged me against him. “There is no denying that was spectacular, but—”
I cut him off before he could say anything more, putting my finger against his lips. “Shh, don’t.”
I pressed my lips against his, partly because I wanted him to stop talking, but also because I couldn’t resist him. I felt him stiffen against my leg.
“Again? Really?” I giggled, as he turned me over.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The short walk to my parents home felt long as I mulled over the day’s events. My legs were still jelly from my day with Devon. It had been difficult to leave his house, not because I didn’t want to, but because we found it hard to let go of each other. It was intoxicating being around Devon, but I knew I had to cut it short and return home. I needed to spend some time with my parents and talk things over with them, no matter how hard it might prove to be.
I laughed when I realized how much had happened and how much my world had been turned on its head in such a short time. To think that three days prior my biggest issue was whether or not Paul and I were still an item. It all seemed like ages ago now.
Parked outside my parents’ house I noticed a familiar-looking silver Mercedes, making my stomach lurch.
It couldn’t be.
I peeked through the driver’s side window. As if checking off a list in my mind, I noticed each item one by one. In the cup-holder was the not-nearly-finished cup of coffee. In the centre console was the pack of spearmint gum, the whitening kind. And there, hanging in the back seat as it usually was, was the black pea coat I had bought him for his birthday last year.
This was without a doubt Paul’s car.
What the hell was Paul doing here?
Fuming, I went inside. Before I saw anybody, I could hear my mother laughing, loud and boisterously. It was coming from the living room. My father was sitting on the couch, drink in hand, chuckling and my mother sat next to him, laughing hysterically at something Paul had said.
Paul.
He sat across from them, also with a drink in hand. From what I overheard, he was in the middle of telling them about the time I had been so drunk in Cancun, I had slipped and fallen into the pool. The story was usually Paul’s go-to when trying to break the ice with people. It always made everyone laugh, excluding me, for obvious reasons.
I managed to clear my throat, announcing my presence.
“Elizabeth,” my father said, startled. “Look who just showed up. Why didn’t you tell us you were seeing such a funny, young man?”
Paul smiled, inviting me to sit beside him. I refused.
“More importantly,” my mother added, “Why didn’t you mention Paul at all?”
My cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Because we’re not together anymore,” I snapped, eyeing him.
Still in disbelief that Paul was in my parents’ living room—let alone in Frelighsburg—I went over to the bar and poured myself a drink. I had never been a fan of hard liquor, but seeing as the only thing on supply was scotch and bourbon, I poured myself a glass of the expensive single malt and chugged it down in one gulp. I noticed my father’s disapproving look, but he said nothing.
“What are you doing here, Paul?” I asked, the Scotch warming me up. I blinked as my eyes watered, a little from the drink, a little from anger.
“I figured I would come and visit,” he began. “I felt horrible knowing you were going through all this by yourself.”
He grinned at my parents as if looking for approval for his good deed. They nodded in agreement and I hoped they weren’t stupid enough to fall for his obvious pandering.
“But how did you know where I was?” I had never even told Paul where my parents lived, so to see him here now made it all the more confusing.
“You didn’t tell him where you were going?” my mother asked, a look of shocked disbelief on her face matching her equally appalled tone. I rolled my eyes at her and shook my head as if trying to tell her to shut up. We could deal with my white lies later.
“I spoke to Mrs. Benson,” Paul explained.
I didn’t have to hear the rest to know where he was headed. Little, sociable Mrs. Benson would chat with anyone let alone gorgeous, charming Paul. Of course, I had never imagined he would care enough to investigate my whereabouts. If I had, I definitely would have asked her to keep it to herself.
“After that, it wasn’t hard Googling Williams Orchard,” he tacked on, proud of himself. “Did you know your family’s the only Williams family in Phillipsburg?”
“Frelighsburg,” we all corrected simultaneously.
“Right,” he walked over to me, taking me in his arms.
I stood, unable to move, stunned. I still couldn’t come to grips with the fact that he had come all this way, had put in the actual effort to find me and was at the same time putting me in a very uncomfortable position. I also couldn’t help but compare his embrace to that of Devon’s. Whereas I felt safe and comforted in Devon’s strong arms, in Paul’s I felt restricted and especially cold. Stuck in his hold, unsure what to do next, I felt the enormity of his presence deep in the pit of my stomach.
“So, where have you been all day?” he asked, loosening his grip.
All day?
I wondered exactly when he had a
rrived. I struggled to think of something to say. It wasn’t like I had taken the time to think of an alibi, I never dreamt I would need one, either.
“I went horseback riding,” I said, giving him as much of the truth as I could, without revealing too much.
“Horseback riding?” my father asked, cynical. A look crossed his face, but before I knew what it could mean, it was gone.
“Your daughter never ceases to amaze me,” Paul said, beaming with pride. “She’s always up for new things.”
I then caught sight of the Paul I knew so well. His cold, arrogant eyes stared at me, his tone accusing. I grabbed Paul by the hand and led him outside.
As we reached the front yard, I began to pace.
“You don’t seem too happy to see me.” He stood his arms crossed but smirking.
I glared at him, my pulse racing. “Are you kidding me? Why would I be happy to see you, Paul?” I noticed him recoil and knew that I was yelling a little too loudly. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe I didn’t want you here? And besides, we broke up! What does it matter where I am and what I’m doing?”
“We didn’t really break up now did we?” he answered tilting his head to the side almost defiantly. “We made up, remember?”
Memories of our evening together came rushing back and I began to laugh. It felt good to let it out, to acknowledge the absurdity of it all.
“You think that because we had sex that means we’re back together?” I approached him. “Did you fail to notice that I was incredibly vulnerable that night? You took advantage of me. That was not a reconciliation.”
He was shaking his head from side to side, as if in complete disagreement with what I was saying. It reminded me of when we had first met.
I had been interviewing at his company, a complete ball of nerves when he had barged in on the meeting. My potential boss told him he was interrupting, but Paul didn’t seem bothered—he was the CFO after all. He stood, shaking his head—just as he was doing now—and eyed me. I had felt completely intimidated at first, even shrinking back into my chair a little. But after a moment, I came to the realization that he wasn’t looking at me with contempt, but rather with attraction. The intimidation vanished. Later on, once the interview had ended, he had found me in the elevator and asked me out.
