Escape the Doubt

by Andrea Michelle

  The doorbell rings, and being as though my dad is always at a bar or somewhere that isn’t here—I get the house to myself, which is convenient. When I open the door, Preslee is standing there looking appetizing, but all wrong for my taste. I try not to let that thought linger, and instead, I open the door to invite her in.

  She studies my eyes a moment longer than usual. I’m sure she senses something is different about tonight, or maybe I am different.

  “You okay? You seem...I don’t know?” She says slightly hesitant to come in—she still does though.

  “I’m good. No more talking. Let’s go.” I grab her hand and we go to my bedroom.

  Let the pretending begin.

  Once we’re in my room, I shut the lights off. “Why do you always want it so dark, Dean? Just once, can we do it with the lights on?” She asks.

  “No, we can’t.” Because then I would see you. I would know I’m inside you. I don’t want to know or see that. I’m pretending, and in the dark, I can do that better. “You know my rules. If you don’t want to play anymore just say so.”

  She is quiet for a little bit, and I think she may just leave, but then she reaches for my zipper and all is good.

  “I’ll play, and I’ll be anyone you want, Dean, but I need to add my own rule.” She is negotiating with her hand around my dick. How am I supposed to say no to something she asks when that feels...so...good?

  “What’s that?” I ask through a groan.

  She comes up close to me, I tense when I feel her mouth near mine. I can feel her breath as it mixes with the air from my own lips.

  “I want to kiss you. I need to kiss during sex. I won’t talk. I won’t say anything at all—just moan like you like. But I want to be kissed when we move together.”

  I don’t kiss her—ever. It’s too personal. I know that sounds crazy, like sex isn’t personal. But to me—what we do together isn’t personal. It’s just an escape to where I need to be in my head. To kiss her would mean to feel something more than my escape. I don’t want to feel anything—for her.

  She is stroking me at a perfect pace, then she licks my lips and my head spins. I don’t want to kiss her. I don’t want to kiss her. I don’t want to kiss her. My mantra disagrees with my head, or perhaps it’s my other head that told the mantra to fuck off. I grab her cheeks and press my mouth to hers, she gasps like it was unexpected. She moans, and it’s the best damn sound ever. I lick into her mouth and tangle my tongue with hers. She tastes fruity like she just ate a candy. It’s sweet. Sweet—just like Riley. I’m kissing Riley. It’s okay.

  I reach behind my neck to grip my shirt and pull it off. Her hands glide up my chest and around my neck as she pulls me closer. She needs to be closer to me. I let my hands trail down her neck and her rib cage to her stomach. I remove her shirt, as well. I undo the clips of her bra and let it fall away, and then I feel her up. Perky, full, and slightly bigger than Riley—NO! Shit—just like Riley—she is just like Riley.

  She tugs my jeans down and lowers herself to her knees. I stop her. “No, not your mouth. Not tonight.” I step out of my jeans and rid myself of the rest of my clothes.

  I unzip her skirt and let it pool at her feet, and then I hook my fingers in her panties and pull those down. “Open,” I say as I reach my hand in between her legs to make sure she is ready. She is. “Wet. You’re always wet for me. Just me. Right, Riley?”

  She just moans and reaches her hands around my neck as she lifts one leg around my waist, letting me touch her. She tightens around my fingers and whimpers when I withdraw them. I lift her up, and she wraps both her legs around my waist completely. She grabs my face to kiss me, and again I let her. Why am I letting her? I don’t know why this time is different.

  I lower us to the bed, and we touch each other everywhere. I lean back and lick my way down to where I know she loves to be kissed. I lick and suck, loving having her legs wrapped around my head, and how she writhes into my mouth with her hands in my hair. She tastes so good. I can always get her to come this way. Not tonight, though. Tonight, I want to bring her to the edge and make her beg for me. The way I beg for Riley. Maybe tell her no, the way she tells me no.

  Every time I feel her shiver and jerk, I stop. Her whimpers get closer together, until she is pulling on my hair hard and pushing my head into her. I pull back, “If you want it, ask for it. Tonight only, beg baby.” I lick straight up her center and press my tongue onto her clit. She arches her back without speaking a word. She plays the game so well. But tonight, I need her words. I’m so far gone to recognize her voice as any other voice than the one I want to hear. I lift up off of her giving her nothing more. She growls at me. I almost laugh. Get frustrated—like you frustrate me.

  I’m hovered above her, ready and waiting. Ask for it. Want me. She is still playing the game—not close enough yet. I reach down in between her legs, and she is riding my hand and obviously thinking I will let her get off that way. I won’t. I hold still as she tries to grind faster on me, moaning loudly. I remove my hand and sit back on my heels as she sighs heavily in her chest.

  “What the fuck, Dean?” Preslee hollers at me and flips on the lamp next to my bed. NO, no, no! This isn’t the way this works.

  “What the fuck, Preslee? Turn the light off.” I snap at her.

  She sits up, glaring at me as she climbs under my blankets to cover herself. “No. Why are you being such an asshole tonight? What’s going on? You never want me to talk, and now you want me to beg? What the hell? It’s like your torturing me. We do this and we move on until the next time. Means to an end, remember? You’re not yourself right now. What th—,”

  “Be quiet. Stop talking. I...I...FUCK!” I climb off the bed and put my boxers back on. I run my hand through my hair and growl at my ceiling. What the hell is wrong with me? I walk out of my bedroom and slam the door. I head to the kitchen in search of something, of nothing. I pull a beer out of the fridge and down several swigs. I’m seriously fucked up in the head.

  I have my head down and my hands gripping the edge of the kitchen counter when I hear Preslee’s footsteps round the corner. I turn my head to see her standing there in nothing but my track t-shirt. I let my eyes look at her. She has long legs, beautiful blonde hair, and gorgeous blue eyes like the sky on a summer day. She is pretty. She just has the wrong hair color, the wrong color eyes, because she isn’t her. She isn’t Riley.

  “Wanna talk about it?” She asks with a soft whisper. Do I? Could I even explain it? None of it makes sense, not even to me.

  I turn my body to face her, take another swig of my beer and place it down. Her eyes never leave mine. “Why do you do this with me?” I ask.

  Her face is completely unreadable, and she isn’t smiling or frowning, just staring. “Why do you?” She asks in a voice that is barely above a whisper.

  “Answer me first.”

  She nods, “Well, same reason as you I presume.” She walks over to me slowly, and I let my eyes trail down her legs as she moves. She reaches over and grabs my beer and slowly moves it to her lips to take a sip.

  “And that would be?” I ask, taking another beer out of the fridge since she is obviously taking mine.

  She hops up on the counter and crosses her legs. “Are we going to keep answering questions with questions?” She asks.

  I take a second to really look at her. She is here—with me. Do her reasons matter? Do mine? Tonight for whatever reason they do. “I’m just curious. So why, Preslee? I’m not exactly nice to you, and we don’t like each other at all.”

  She smiles, “No, you’re not and that is true. We’re not that different, though, so I don’t hold it against you. I do this because it helps me not think about what I can’t have. For just a little bit I let myself think that he—,” she trails off like she almost said too much.

  “It’s okay. You can say it. You pretend it’s not me, right?” I ask.

  She nods, “Something like that.” She downs the rest of her beer and clears her throat. �
�Can I ask you something?”

  I shrug, “Since tonight seems to be all about questions—shoot.”

  She leans forward uncrossing her legs just a little. “You’re with Riley. Like y’all have dated for two years. Why am I pretending to be her?”

  I’m not with her anymore. Was she ever really with me? “We broke up. Besides, she is in love with someone else, always has been. She doesn’t...I mean...we don’t have sex.”

  “Ah...it sucks when all you want is for them to notice you, but their eyes are always trained on someone else,” she says looking lost in a thought.

  “Exactly,” I say. That is exactly the way it’s always been for Riley and I.

  “I get it,” she says with a slight frown marring her features.

  For about a minute, we just stare at each other, not speaking. I’m tired of feeling unwanted. I’m tired of thinking about Riley while she is thinking about him. I’m just tired. Preslee speaks, and it’s the best suggestion I’ve heard all night. “Wanna forget it all for a night? No pretending. Just us, helping the other forget for a while?”

  I move to stand in front of her, and she opens her legs for me to stand in between them. I let my hands glide up her legs, under her shirt and around her waist. At the same time, she is touching my face with a look of wonder. It’s intimate, and tonight, I just let it happen as us. She runs her hands through my hair, looking back and forth at my eyes.

  “I’m going to kiss you now.” She tells me but I was already leaning into her—ready to the do the same.

  It’s been two days, two fucking days since I’ve talked to Riley. I miss her voice, and I hate that I do. She never misses mine. I’m sure I haven’t even crossed her mind, even though she never seems to leave mine.

  It’s the anniversary of her dad’s death, and unbeknownst to her, I followed her to the cemetery. I’ve been sitting under this tree—out of sight—wondering what she is thinking, wondering if I should go to her—if she would embrace me or push me away.

  She has traced the letters of her dads name over and over again. The pain on her face is evident, and it pains me to see it. I just want to hug her and make it not be there anymore. I’m close to doing just that but then I hear a vehicle pull up, and my heart plummets to my stomach. Josh.

  He walks to sit down next to her, interlaces their hands and speaks. “I thought I would find you here. You okay? You look far away,” he asks caringly.

  She nods, swiping a few lost tears, and my insides coil, as he is the one that will comfort her this time. “I was just remembering that day. Their angry words thunder so loudly in my head. It’s been three years today, and it still hurts.” She says as she rubs a spot on her chest.

  He pulls her to his side, kisses her forehead the way I’ve seen him do a thousand times before, and it never feels good to see it.

  He says, “I don’t think the hurt of losing someone goes away. Some days are better than others. But missing them—that feeling—I think, it’s always there, lying dormant. Something as simple as a song on the radio, or the smell of their perfume on someone else, triggers all those memories. And in one moment, you’re trapped in the past.” I’m an asshole because I hate him right now. He is comforting her for her loss when he has his own to deal with. I hate him because this connection to the pain they share is just one more connection they have together that I don’t.

  She looks at him with those sad beautiful eyes, the guilt she carries on her shoulder evidently so heavy to carry. It breaks my heart. “I’m sorry, Josh.” She whispers. God dammit, she is sorry? I’ve known the guilt she carries, I’ve even known the feelings for Josh that she thinks she keeps secret. But in this moment, it slaps me in the face—she is sorry. I finally get it—she doesn’t let herself act on her feelings for him because she thinks she can’t, she shouldn’t. How fucking twisted is that? What am I at all to her? A distraction? Time filler till the pain heals? Second choice—that is what I am.

  He cups her chin, tilting her face to his and tells her, “Riley, we do this every year, and every year you apologize to me. It’s not your fault that your dad got in the car that night, or that my mom was a victim of his drunk driving.” He’s right. It’s not.

  She argues him on it, “It’s my dad’s fault and my mom’s fault. Therefore, I am guilty by association. He never should have been on the road. I’m sorry we came into your lives. Because of that, you don’t have your mom. It’s not fair.” Why isn’t it fair? Because it happened or because it changed her future with Josh? Life isn’t fair. Life is shit to be honest. Life gives you drunken dads that use fist instead of words. I hate to say it, but how come it wasn’t my dad on the road that night. His drunken stupor always leads him down the wrong roads. Riley’s dad was a good man who obviously had a bad night.

  Josh abruptly stands, pulls her to her feet and places his hands on her shoulders. “Riley, stop blaming yourself, because I sure as hell don’t. Yes, it hurts. God, it hurts some days to not have her here, but never, and I mean never, have I wished for even a second that you not be in my life. You mean the world to me, Riley Shaw.” And there it is...the untold truth. He wants her. He always has.

  They just stare at each other. She doesn’t reply but she nods. They are doing that thing where they are exchanging thoughts without words. They do this, and it’s another thing I hate about them both.

  He grabs her hand and places a soft kiss on her palm. I want to punch him in the throat.

  They begin to walk back to his truck when she stops suddenly and turns around with determination set in those blue eyes. “You mean the world to me too, Joshua Parker. I lov…I care about you so much,” she admits. FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! Never, in two years, has she said, ‘Dean, you mean the world to me,’ or almost let the L word slip from her tongue—NEVER! I’m so pissed. I want to jump out there and lay into them both. Doesn’t she know that I care? Doesn’t she get it at all?

  He stares at her for the longest time—he caught that almost slip, because he eventually smiles and interlaces their fingers. His world has just been shone a glimmer of hope while mine crashes and burns. “C’mon, your mom is worried sick about you. If I don’t get you home soon, she is going to send out a search party.” He laughs and they walk hand in hand back to his truck.

  He has the window down and I can hear him ask her, “Why is Dean not here with you, Riley?”

  I AM, BABY! I am.

  I went to Collin’s with one thing in mind, to get wasted and crash on his couch. I was a fucking mess. The girl I loved, loved someone else, she always had. I’d never had a chance in hell with her. Even after two years together, it wasn’t going to be me that she let down her walls for.

  I was watching Josh shoot pool with Preslee hanging on his arms and batting her lashes at him. He never even paid a lick of attention to her. I finally saw it—Preslee wanted him—and he wanted Riley. I understood her a little better then. We weren’t that much different, after all. I was her Josh and she was my Riley when we fucked. Well, except for two nights ago...that was just us helping each other—as Dean and Preslee.

  Josh kept looking at Preslee clearly annoyed, and she would just smile and continue to flirt—epically failing at it. It had been going on like this for at least thirty minutes. I must have been a little tipsy because I thought she looked hot. I actually looked at her and thought that fool was crazy to not see such a great piece of ass offering herself up to him on a silver platter. I most definitely thought I wanted that piece of ass to be mine tonight. Distract me. Help me escape. Make me forget—whatever...just be mine—and not his.

  Her blue eyes met mine as I stare at her, not even hiding the fact that I was checking her out. She has a peculiar face as she looks back at me, but then she releases Josh’s arm and stares back at me. She grabs her cup and downs whatever is in it. When she reaches me, she stares a bit longer but then she grabs my face and we kiss. Whatever was in that cup lingers on her tongue, cranberry maybe. It tastes good.

  When we pull apart, I
whisper in her ear my request to go upstairs, and she nods. I glance at Josh, noticing him staring at us both with a look of hatred. The feeling is mutual, Parker. He doesn’t call me on it, he never does. I’ve often wondered why he doesn’t tell Riley I’m unfaithful. He doesn’t, though.

  We pass Collin and Laiken on the way up, trading spots. Collin and I have this arrangement down pact. Before my dad ruined everything by ‘being himself’ (a dick with a fist), we were family, and families share everything. Collin and I shared a lot together, for a second I debate sharing Preslee again with him just so I can watch. I don’t, though.

  Once we’re upstairs, we move quickly, removing clothes, and preparing each other for the rest. I realize I don’t have a condom, and in my tipsy state, I do something stupid. “It’s okay. I’m on the pill.” Preslee says. I shrug and we handle business without any barriers between us. For the second time, I fuck her—Preslee. This isn’t pretending anymore. This is me, breaking my rules and letting myself enjoy someone else for a change.

  I head downstairs before Preslee does, and all hell is unleashed on me. Emily is screaming at me because apparently Riley showed up and knows I was here with someone. My heart races, regret filling me instantly. She doesn’t know what I was doing—or whom I was doing. I can still fix it. I will fix it. I was furious to find out Josh was the one to take her home. I was curious to know if he told her since he knew. But then, I was relieved when he showed back up informing us she didn’t know the details.

  A lot of words are thrown back and forth between Emily and me. Who is she to judge me? She is the one who sucked my dick and let me bang her under the bleachers sophomore year and never informed her so called best friend of this. I’m grateful she hasn’t, but still—who is she to judge me? It wasn’t just a one-time thing either.