by Claire Kent
After a moment, he nodded, and then it was better—because we were getting ready to leave and not standing in the middle of the room, as if we were in a firing line.
Josh didn’t say anything as I drove us back to the hotel. I took a quick shower first, since it had been such a long day, and then I got into bed while he took his.
He came to bed the way he had the night before, but this time he turned on his side, away from me.
“Josh,” I said, hating the sight of his tense body. The urge to hug him, to comfort him, was simply too strong, so I scooted up behind him and wrapped my arms around him.
“You don’t have to do that,” he rasped.
“What do you mean, I don’t have to do this? I want to do this.” I adjusted so that I was spooning him more comfortably from behind, but my arms around him were tight. It felt like I had to hold him together.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he said after a minute. It was dark in the room, and his voice seemed to echo strangely.
“I don’t care about me. Josh, I’m worried about you.”
“I’m fine.”
I didn’t believe him, but he must know I wouldn’t, so I didn’t try to argue. Instead, I said, “Your dad loves you. He’s grieving, and sometimes it comes out like that. But it’s obvious that he loves you.”
“I know he loves me.” If possible, he grew even tenser in my arms. “That’s not even the issue.”
“Then what’s the issue?”
He made a sound, like he’d started to answer but couldn’t. Until he finally forced out, “He was right.”
Then his whole body started to shake.
He wasn’t crying—at least, not like any crying I’d ever seen before. But he seemed to be falling apart anyway, and it was terrifying and heartbreaking at the same time.
“Oh, my God,” I murmured, hugging him even tighter. “Oh, Josh, I’m so sorry.”
He kept shaking. There weren’t any tears, and he didn’t make any sound. But whatever it was he was doing, it was helpless, and desperate, and sad.
And there was nothing at all I could do to answer it.
I kept murmuring nonsense, much of it incoherent. And I was crying for real, although I tried to stifle the sounds.
A long time passed before he stopped shaking. He was still breathing raggedly, though. I was still hugging him tightly from behind.
“Your mom knew you loved her, Josh,” I said at last. “Even if you pulled away some these last few years. I know she would have known. I knew it immediately, the first time you even mentioned her to me. She knew because of those chess games—the way you always kept them up, no matter what else happened. I promise you that your mom knew.”
I didn’t think he would answer, so I wasn’t surprised that he didn’t.
What did surprise me was that he turned around in my arms. So he was facing me. So he could wrap his arms around me too.
We lay awake that way for a long time, holding each other in the dark.
Then we fell asleep without pulling out of the hug.
Eleven
I slept soundly that night, and I didn’t know what time it was when I half-woke up. It was still mostly dark in the room, and I was still clutching at Josh in my sleep.
He was against me now—his bare skin warm and slightly damp, his flesh firm, his breath fast, and his cock hard.
I knew his cock was hard because he was rubbing it against me.
He must have been sleeping too. Or mostly sleeping. He didn’t appear to be conscious of his motion as he kind of humped me in his sleep.
“Josh,” I gasped, my body reacting to his motion instinctively.
He made a vague, grunting sound.
“Josh,” I said again, sliding my hands down his bare back to his ass, palming him there over his underwear.
“Yeah,” he said, more coherent now. “Fuck, sorry.”
He pulled back slightly and squinted into my face, obviously trying to orient himself to where he was and what he was doing.
“Josh,” I said, in a different tone now. Somehow, for some reason, I was already aroused, and I couldn’t stop myself from squeezing the strong muscles of his ass.
“Leslie.” My name was no more than an inhale as he moved against me in a jerky push of his hips.
Then he was kissing me, and it was deep and hungry and needy. And it was exactly what I wanted. Exactly what I felt too.
The kiss went on a long time, until he’d turned me over onto my back, and we were rocking in a sensual rhythm together. When he finally tore his mouth away, it was only to bury his face in the hollow of my throat. He kissed me there as I ran my hands down the strong lines of his body.
“Josh,” I kept saying, arching up every time his touch triggered a ripple of pleasure.
“Fuck, Leslie,” he mumbled against my skin. “You feel so good. I need you so much. Like this. Just like this.”
And I arched up at that too—because his words triggered more pleasure than his touch.
“Please, Josh.” Instead of stroking, I started to claw at his back when my arousal was too strong to handle. “Please, I need you now.”
He made a strange, low groan and then pulled his head up. He fumbled with my pajamas, and I fumbled with his shorts until I’d freed his cock. Then he was kissing me again, and it felt like a dream—an intense, fuzzy, erotic dream.
He used one hand to align his cock between my legs as we kept trying to kiss. Then we were both moaning as he slowly pressed himself inside me.
I wrapped both legs around him as he started to rock, and soon I could no longer focus on the kiss because my body and my heart were feeling so many things at once.
He felt warm beneath my hands. Big on top of me. And real—alive, human—as he panted and thrust.
“Josh,” I gasped, stretching my neck as the pleasure reached some sort of plateau but didn’t climb.
“Baby,” he grunted, his eyes never leaving my face as he braced himself above me. “Oh, baby, so good, so sweet. Need you. Leslie. Baby.”
He was mostly incoherent, but I was too. And I sobbed out in relief when he accelerated his motion, moving faster and harder as his rhythm started to slip.
Neither one of us had any control. I dug my fingers into his ass as I finally felt the orgasm building again, tightening down until it flew apart.
I cried out as it did, shuddering through the pleasure. He didn’t come immediately after me, so I kept holding onto him, watching him, loving how he seemed to be pouring everything into me, like it was calling for everything he had.
He was taking me hard now, but I kept holding him with my arms and my legs. His eyes devoured me, never looking away, and his face twisted with effort, or pleasure, or something more, something deeper.
“Leslie,” he kept grunting. “Leslie. Baby. Need. You.”
“I’m here,” I murmured, holding on as tightly as I could. “Josh, you can come.”
He gave a broken cry of frustration, his whole body starting to jerk. But he still didn’t come.
”Josh, come, baby. Come.”
This time, when he release a loud exclamation, it was a sound of release, of victory. He came hard, the climax spasming through his body, spasming through his cock.
Then he released. Inside me.
Inside me.
I pulled him into a hug as soon as the tension in his body relaxed. He softened on top of me, once again pressing kisses against my neck, my jaw.
We lay together like that for a long time, and I felt a wave of satisfaction—visceral but so much deeper than just the post-orgasmic languor—at the idea that I’d given Josh what he needed. Especially now.
But I felt a lot of other things too. Things I eventually couldn’t ignore.
Like the desire to take care of him. The desire for him to take care of me. The desire to cuddle up against him, go to sleep in his arms all the time.
And I also felt a surge of moisture between my legs.
We hadn’
t used a condom.
“Oh, shit,” Josh said, rolling over and off me at last. He must have finally processed the same thing. “Shit, what was I thinking?”
“I think we were both half asleep,” I said, my chest aching because the intense interlude was over, and all we were left with was this halfway relationship that would never be what I really wanted it to be.
“Oh, shit.” He was looking at me, searching my face in that way he had.
“I’m on birth control,” I told him, trying to sound matter-of-fact, even though I really felt like crying. Not about the condom. About everything else. “We’re probably all right.”
“Okay,” he said, still looking at me closely. “Okay.”
I wasn’t sure it was okay, but I didn’t know what else it was.
***
We went back over to his dad’s place that morning, and things seemed to be okay between Josh and his family when we left for the airport. His dad had apologized, and Josh apologized too. His brother clapped him on the back, and Jane and his father both hugged him.
They hugged me too.
Josh pretended to sleep on the flights home—or maybe he slept for real. I didn’t sleep. And I didn’t read. I sat and thought.
By the time we landed in Lexington, I knew what I needed to do.
I didn’t want to do it. I hated the idea of doing it. It was so awful I could hardly imagine myself doing it.
But I was going to do it anyway.
Josh and I had always been honest with each other—as much as possible, from the very beginning. So I needed to be honest with him now.
And, even more than that, I needed to be honest with myself.
***
So, after we got my car from the long-term lot and I drove him back to his apartment, I pulled up in front of the front door of the building instead of parking.
Josh hadn’t said much of anything on the whole trip back, but he turned now to scrutinize my face. “You don’t want to come up? You can spend the night, if you want.”
I appreciated the gesture, but I shook my head. “No. I don’t think I will.”
“Okay.” He took a breath before he said, “Thank you. For coming with me. I don’t know what I…It meant a lot.”
“You’re welcome. I’m glad I could come.” My voice was soft and calm. Unnaturally so. It didn’t match how I was feeling.
He opened his mouth like he would say something else, but then he didn’t, so I figured it was the right time for me to say the something I needed to say.
“Josh,” I began, worried when my voice cracked on the first word. “I think we better call things off between us.”
He’d been leaning down to pick up the book he hadn’t read on the flight, but now he straightened up jerkily, sat motionless.
I continued, “I know this isn’t a good time to do this. I know it’s the worst time possible. But I don’t think I should just hold off on saying it because the timing is bad. I’m really sorry about doing it now, but I can’t see you anymore.”
He still didn’t react, other than holding himself perfectly still.
I’d felt on the edge of tears all weekend, and I felt that way now again. “I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed what we had. I think you’re amazing, and what we had was amazing. You’ve been honest with me from the beginning, so I’ve had no surprises or reproaches. I know how much you can offer me, Josh. And what you can offer is good—it’s really good—but it’s not enough.”
Josh shifted slightly and opened his mouth now, so I paused to let him speak. But he closed his mouth again without saying it.
After a minute, I realized he wasn’t going to reply, so I went on. “Maybe it’s just me. Maybe I’m just not cut out for casual relationships. I kept thinking I could be someone else, someone different—but I don’t want to be someone else. I want to be me. And I want to be with someone who wants to be with me—for real, completely. So this isn’t feeling right to me. That there’s this barrier to anything deeper. And I don’t think I can deal with it anymore. Do you understand?”
Faced with the direct question, Josh nodded, a little jerkily. “Yeah. I understand. I never expected it to be a long-term thing.”
And that hurt too—a lot—but I pushed through it so I could say the rest. “I hope you know how much you mean to me, Josh. How much everything we’ve had in the last few months has meant to me. I’m not sure what I would have done, after Polly died, if it hadn’t been…” I got a little choked up so I didn’t finish that thought. “I needed you, and I’ll always be grateful for what we had. I have no regrets about getting together with you. Absolutely no regrets. But, if we go on like this any longer, I would have regrets. Because the truth is I want more than you’re able to give me.”
“Leslie,” he said, his face twisting briefly.
“What?” I prompted, when he didn’t go on.
“It meant a lot to me too,” he said at last. He turned his head away and looked down at the book in his hand. “You were the best I’ve ever had.”
And that hurt too. It might be nice to be the best sex he’d had in his life, but it felt so incredibly wrong that sex was all I was to him.
But that was all I’d ever been. I’d known it from the beginning.
He could give me sex. He could give me more and better sex than I’d ever dreamed of. But it could never be anything more.
I was an adult. I knew what I was getting into. This was it. And it was over now.
“You were the best I’ve had too,” I said. “I guess you probably knew that.” I leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss on the side of his mouth. “Take care of yourself, Josh. And make sure you call your dad.”
“I will.” He raised a hand and stroked his knuckles lightly across my cheekbone, across my freckles. “You take care of yourself too.”
Then he was getting out, grabbing his bag, walking into his building with one final wave.
So he was gone. And it was awful.
And there was one thing I’d learned in the last few months.
Making a vow didn’t matter. There was no way to live with no regrets. Life could never offer you that. You made choices based on what was important to you, at any particular time, and the regrets would be the things you didn’t choose.
Twelve
A week later, on Monday after work, I was parking my car in a familiar shady corner of the park.
I thought I was managing the break-up all right. I’d been busy at work, which had actually helped. And I’d made a point of hanging out with friends more than normal last week, so I wouldn’t sit at home moping about not having a hot man to spend the night with. And I might have cried in bed at night. A few times. A lot. But I knew I’d made the right decision, and I didn’t regret it, even a week later.
It hurt, though—a lot—as I got out of the car and couldn’t help but remember having sex with Josh in the backseat. He’d been so passionate and sweet and real, somehow, that day. Maybe it would be easier not to come to this park at all, to find a new place to run, a new way to exercise.
But I’d always loved this park, long before I’d met Josh. I’d taken Polly to this park so many times. I wasn’t going to give it up, just because I’d had to give up Josh.
I had a good run and actually enjoyed it, and I was feeling tired and pleased with my efforts as I walked slowly back to the car.
The first thing I saw was the dog.
I couldn’t help it. When I was at the park, I always noticed the dogs first and only then moved my eyes up to their owners. This one was a Husky—a small one, young and a little too thin—and it was standing near my car.
It wore a bright red collar, and my eyes lifted to the bright red lead. The lead was held by a very fine, masculine body wearing khakis and a blue dress shirt.
I’d slowed down now, and I came to a stop in the middle of the parking lot when my eyes finally lifted to a familiar, handsome face with a square jaw and vivid blue eyes.
He was standing wi
th the dog, right beside my car. Evidently waiting for me.
I was so surprised and so confused and so giddy with a feeling that couldn’t be real, that couldn’t be processed, that I literally could not move.
“Hey,” he said, his voice carrying over to where I stood, which was some distance away. “If you don’t want to talk to me, then I can leave.”
And that got me moving because there was no way I was going to be that person—one who wouldn’t talk to him, when he’d obviously made a point of coming here for a conversation.
With a dog.
I walked over to him, suddenly wishing that I wasn’t sweaty, and that my face wasn’t bright red, and that my hair wasn’t in a messy ponytail. He looked so pulled-together, so sexy, and so much like Josh.
So much like Josh.
When I stood before him, I said, “Hey,” since that was the only thing I could think to say.
“You must have had a good run,” he said, looking strangely hesitant, very unlike his normal laidback confidence. “You’ve been at it a long time.”
“How long have you been waiting here?”
“A while.” He glanced down and then up at me again.
I twisted my hands together, excitement and fear both shuddering together in my chest. “What…why were you waiting for me?”
“I wanted to see you.” His eyes met and held mine now, and he took a step closer. “I wanted to talk to you.”
“Okay. We can definitely talk.”
He raised a hand to rub his shoulder. “I don’t just want to talk to you, Leslie. I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you a lot.”
The words were like balm to my heart, but they also made the shuddering excitement drop back into my gut. Because this was why my excitement had been mingled with fear. “I’ve missed you too, Josh,” I said, softly so he wouldn’t hear I was disappointed. “I really have. But we can’t go back to where we were. It just wasn’t working for me. It wasn’t…right.”
“I know it wasn’t right.” He sounded almost urgent now, and he took one more step closer until he took one of my hands in both of his. “I’m so sorry, Leslie, about how I treated you.”
