by Selena Kitt
Not satisfied with the one he’s chosen, he takes another and tries that one before saying, ‘OK, watch this.’
He walks towards the line at the top of the lane then does a little running skid as he gets closer, draws his arm back, and fires the ball in a straight line towards the pins. The ball slams into the pins dead centre, sending them flying in all directions.
‘When you get them all down, that’s a strike,’ he says.
‘I thought you said you were passable.’ I smirk.
He arches an eyebrow. ‘Maybe I was trying to make you feel better.’
‘I get another go because it was a strike.’ He takes another ball and hurtles it down the lane.
But I’m not watching the ball. I’m watching his muscles flex and ripple beneath the T-shirt he’s wearing and the way his jeans ride low over his hips. The waistband of his boxers peeking out at me. My body is hyperaware of him. The way his strong fingers hold the bowling balls. His angular, unshaven jaw. How seductive his mouth is. How soft his hair is when I run my fingers through those thick, choppy layers. His art for conveying so much in so few words. The pulse beating in his neck. Everything about him saturates my senses. I can’t stop looking at him, and I can barely think straight with him so close to me.
He turns round and catches me watching him, and our gaze meets for a moment before my cheeks flush.
‘All right, then,’ I say, rising to the challenge. I walk to the ball return machine and pick up a couple of balls. ‘Game on.’
‘Here, this one’s probably right for you.’ He hands me a pink ball, and I slide my thumb and first two fingers into it, testing the weight like he did. OK, I don’t have a clue what I’m doing, but what the hell.
I walk to the lane. ‘Do I have to do that little skiddy run thing?’ I look out across the lanes and see lots of people doing it.
‘No.’ His lips curve into a smile, and he stands behind me, one hand on my waist, one hand on my hand that’s holding the ball. I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to concentrate on what he’s showing me, because my stomach is doing a cartwheel and my heart stumbles in my chest at his touch.
‘OK, so just pull your arm back and try and aim straight down the centre. Don’t walk across the line, or you’ll be disqualified.’
‘Wait ’til you see this. If you can get a strike, so can I.’ I say it with more confidence than I feel.
I fling the ball down the lane, but it veers to the left and ends up in the gutter. ‘What?’ I pout at the disappearing ball. ‘It was doing so well! I think this lane’s wonky.’
‘Right.’ He nods, picks up his ball, and throws another perfect strike.
‘Hey! That’s not fair!’
He kisses my cheek before grabbing another ball. ‘God, I love it when you pout like that. You’ve got a competitive streak, haven’t you?’
‘Maybe.’
My next go is a lot better. I manage to hit three pins on the first try and five on the second. That’s nothing compared to Mr Strike King, though, who unsurprisingly wins the first game by a mile.
I get better as the time goes on and even manage a half-strike a couple of times. Then I hit nine pins and jump up and down, fist pumping in the air.
‘Fluke,’ Ben says.
‘Oh, yeah? I was just getting warmed up. Lulling you into a false sense of security. I’m an expert, really.’ I stretch my arms behind me and move my neck from side to side, as if I’m a professional athlete.
He tries to stifle a smile as I pick up another ball and nail the last pin standing. ‘Half-strike!’ I yell.
I get better with each go, but Ben’s game has gone to pot, and half his balls are ending up in the gutter. After about four of his terrible shots, I finally realize what’s going on.
‘Are you letting me win?’ I frown.
He holds his arms out to the sides, palms up, a smirk on his face. ‘Would I?’
‘Hmm.’ I narrow my eyes playfully.
I end up winning the second game, so we’re perfectly matched, even if he did let me win. As we walk back to the reception to hand back the lovely shoes, I say, ‘That was great. I had fun.’
‘Good. Next time I’ll thrash you.’
‘Oh, yeah?’ I elbow him as I put my boots back on.
I leave him lacing up his own chunky boots while I head for the toilets. I push the door open and practically bump into a woman on her way out.
‘Oh, sorry!’ I take a step back and recognize Claire, the girlfriend of Theo’s best friend.
Claire and I were never close. She always gave the impression she thought she was above me because she came from a rich family and went to Cambridge University to study architecture. I was far too nerdy, plain, and common for her.
But seeing her here immediately takes me back to the night of the rape and the party we’d all been to before it happened.
And just like that, the wound has cracked opened again.
The breath catches in my throat, pulse pounding in my ears.
‘Oh, hi, Grace. Long time, no see.’ She tosses her long, curly black hair over her shoulder. ‘I thought I saw you out there playing. How are you?’ It’s clear by her tone she doesn’t really care and is just being polite.
‘Er…’ I take a deep breath and steady myself on the sink. Sweat prickles at my hairline.
Her forehead crinkles. ‘Are you OK?’
‘Just…um…hot.’ I fan my face and force myself to breathe.
‘So, is that your new boyfriend you were bowling with?’
‘Pardon?’ I’m trying to concentrate on what she’s saying, but it’s taking all my effort to stand upright.
‘Your boyfriend? The guy you were messing around on Theo with?’
Suddenly the frightened girl is gone, and a raging anger sparks inside me. That’s what Rebecca said he’d told them all, starting rumours about why we weren’t together any more.
My spine stiffens. ‘What do you mean?’
‘He said you were sleeping with some other guy, that’s why he broke it off with you.’ She jerks her head towards the door. ‘Is that him outside?’
‘No,’ I say, much louder than I intend to. ‘It wasn’t like that. It was…Theo’s a liar.’
She holds her hands up, eyes wide. ‘OK, don’t shoot the messenger. That’s what he told everyone.’
The words I wrote in my journal flood into my head.
I am only a victim as long as I blame myself and remain ashamed.
Well, I’m not ashamed anymore, because it’s not my fault. I’m not blaming myself. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to be a victim.
I’m not hiding anymore. I’m not faking it. I’m not pretending this was something other than what it was. Something snaps inside me, and my hands shake with fury. ‘He raped me, Claire.’
‘What?’ Her face scrunches up with disbelief.
‘Theo raped me,’ I repeat, fighting the lump swelling in my throat that’s making it hard to breathe.
She shakes her head, looking at me as if I’ve just been beamed down from another planet. ‘Why would he rape you? You were his girlfriend. He was sleeping with you anyway.’
‘I don’t know why, Claire, but he did.’
She shrugs. ‘Look, I know you and I were never really friends, and I could tell you were pretty naïve when Theo started seeing you. Most of us always wondered what he saw in you, actually. I’m guessing you were a virgin when you met, but let me tell you, hon, guys expect sex from their girlfriends, you know. That’s what happens in a grown up relationship.’ Her tone is condescending and sarcastic, and I wonder what other lies he’s told about me. ‘So what if he wanted it a bit adventurous and rough?’
‘No, it wasn’t “adventurous” or “rough”. It was rape.’
‘Maybe he thought you needed to experiment a bit. Try something different, because they get bored easily if you don’t give them what they want. Loads of women would love to have a chance with Theo.’
I can’t believe what I�
��m hearing. Cannot believe the excuses spewing from another woman’s mouth.
I want to scream.
‘And if it were true, you would’ve reported it, wouldn’t you?’ She juts her chin in the air. ‘You’re crazy.’ She takes a step back, a look of disgust on her face. ‘This is just some kind of ploy for attention, isn’t it, because you’re jealous he’s seeing someone else? God, no wonder he dumped you.’
She doesn’t believe me or doesn’t want to. And I don’t know whether to blame her or not. Who wants to believe their boyfriend’s best friend is a monster? Either way, I need to get out of here. I’m not going to lose it in public.
‘It’s not just me he’s raped, Claire. He’s done it to someone else, too. Ask him to tell you the truth.’ I storm out the door and straight into Ben, who’s waiting outside.
‘Hey, what’s the matter?’ His eyes are wide, taking in my panicked expression, his hands on my shoulders.
‘I need to get away. Now!’
He doesn’t say another word. Just nods and takes my hand, leading me outside.
‘I need to hit something,’ I say as we walk down the street at a furious pace. I clench and unclench my free hand. It’s a good job we left my car at my flat. I don’t think I could drive in this state.
‘We can go to my place. Hit my punch bag.’
‘Yes,’ I say, but that’s all I can manage, and I love that he doesn’t push me to talk. If he did, tears would spill out right now, and I don’t want that.
I’m not crying over Theo ever again.
I grind my teeth as we walk at a fast pace, and when we get to his flat, my jaw is aching. I kick off my shoes as soon as we’re in the door. He takes my hands and slides on the boxing gloves in silence, pressing the Velcro fastenings down securely. He attaches his iPod to speakers and turns it up loud, playing some heavy rock music that I don’t recognize. It’s got a fast, thumping beat, and that’s exactly what I need to punch to. Then he stands behind the bag and holds it while my fists fly.
Solid blows blast into the heavy bag. Animalistic sounds pour from my mouth. I can see Theo’s face. His arrogant, smug smile as he spread those vicious lies. Covered his tracks.
‘Fucking bastard! Liar!’ I yell over the music with each hard punch.
In my head, I’m annihilating Theo with every smack of my gloves against the heavy leather bag. Diminishing the hold he has over me. Giving him a full taste of my anger.
When I’m spent, I flop to the floor and lie on my back, chest heaving, arms shaking. And Ben still doesn’t ask me what’s happened. Knowing him, he can probably guess. He just lies down beside me, carefully removes the gloves, pulls me into his arms and strokes my hair, patiently waiting for me to talk.
I don’t know how long we lie like that in silence, but it seems like hours. Finally, my thoughts are calm enough to tell him what happened in the ladies’ room.
‘Do you know what hurt the most, though? The fact that she didn’t believe me. I mean, I know how good Theo is at charming people. But how could she think I would make up something like that? It hurt. It really hurt me. Aren’t women supposed to stick together when it happens?’
‘No one wants to admit someone they know can do something like that. It’s easier to deny it, cover it up, silence it. There’s a compulsion to discredit a victim rather than have to witness their pain, because that makes them a party to it when, really, they want to banish it from their minds. And there’s an element involved that if you don’t talk about it, it’s not happening. Telling someone makes it real, and some people just don’t want face that we live in a world where this happens. If they admit it, it might make them vulnerable to the same thing. It might turn it into a prophecy. Or they’ll have to admit they have no control over what happens to them. But while people stay quiet about it, the rapes go on and on and provide cover for rapists.’
‘But it’s not fair.’
‘No. Life rarely is.’
I think about what he’s said and about things I want to change in the world but can’t. In the end, I’m just grateful he’s here. ‘Thank you,’ I finally say.
‘For what?’
‘For being you. For letting me be me. For being there. For believing in me. For always doing and saying the perfect thing. For everything.’
He kisses me so softly, as if I’m fragile, a brittle leaf that might crumble to pieces in his hand. And I don’t want to be fragile anymore. Don’t want him to treat me as if I am. What happened with Claire has just made me more determined to prove to myself that I can’t let Theo have control over me anymore. I don’t want him to own my memories of what a man is, or what intimacy with a man is. Instead of being weak and helpless, I need to be in control, and that means allowing myself to feel comfortable with Ben’s body. All of his body, because the only man whose body I’ve known is Theo’s. I want to purge it from my brain and imprint Ben’s there instead, so when the time is finally right, I’m no longer afraid of what Ben feels like. Just because he’s a man doesn’t make him the man who stole something from me. Giving myself to him completely is still just out of reach, but I have to get one step closer to fixing it. Now I’ve had a taste of what real love is, I want everything.
I want to replace the bad memories with a new one of Ben, so I do something I’ve thought about doing for a long time, something I need to do for myself. I have to do this so I can give myself to him eventually with no anxiety or hesitation, and I’ll be free of the ghosts in my head.
The music has changed to slower tracks from Snow Patrol. I kneel on the floor and undo the buttons of his jeans, keeping my gaze on him.
‘Grace.’ His voice hitches, and his hand clutches mine, stopping me from going any further.
‘Please don’t stop me. I want to do this. I want to make you feel good, too. Even if I’m not ready for full sex, I want to take you to the same place you take me. I need to know I can do this for you, and for me.’ I tug at his jeans, and his hips arch as I pull them down.
I slide my hands over his thighs and up his boxers. He’s hard and ready for my touch as I tentatively trace the line of his erection. The part I’m scared of.
‘Oh, shit,’ he groans, his head rolling back onto the sofa.
I leave a trail of kisses along his rock hard abs, around his hipbones, his belly button, my tongue tracing random patterns as I go. The scent of his skin, spicy and masculine, is so different to Theo’s, so intoxicating. I inhale deeply, letting it permeate my senses so I memorize it.
My fingers wander back to his erection again, touching the base and moving upwards, my thumb circling the tip lightly before retracing my steps up and down.
His lashes flutter as he watches me, his eyes hooded and smouldering. I pull the waistband of his boxers down and take him in my mouth. The primal sound of his voice spurs me on, makes my heart beat faster. I slowly swirl my tongue around the velvety tip before sliding it to the base and then back up again, tasting, touching, wanting him. When I take all of his length in my mouth, his fingers plunge into my hair.
‘That’s so good. So amazingly good. You don’t know what you do to me.’
My mouth encloses him, sucking as my tongue strokes and licks, teases and flicks.
‘I’m not going to last much longer,’ he pants out.
I intensify the speed then slow down, sweeping my lips and tongue across him lightly before building up to a steady rhythm again. His thighs tense, and his hips lift. He cries out my name, a sexy, breathy sound, as his orgasm hits, leaving him trembling in my mouth.
I wait until the last wave has hit and look up at his hooded eyes. Knowing I can give him the same pleasure and love he gives me puts me on such a high. I want to give back everything he’s given to me. I can’t help but smile at the thought I put that look on his face.
He lifts me by my elbows and pulls me on top of him, possessively kissing me, leaving no part of my mouth untouched.
‘No one’s touched me like that in a long time, Grace. There’s bee
n no one significant in my life before you.’ He breathes into my throat.
‘You’ve never been in love before?’ I frown.
‘No. I don’t even think I’ve been alive before I met you.’
I’m shocked at how someone so kind, so beautiful, who could have his pick of any woman he wants, has never felt this way before. And it makes me feel even more special, more worthy, than I ever thought possible.
My heart almost crumbles then, and I wrap myself around him and lose myself in his arms.
Later that evening, we’re snuggled up on the sofa watching a DVD when my phone rings. Ben pauses the film while I answer.
‘Hi, Jack, how are you? How’s Lisa? Is everything OK?’
‘Yeah, it’s more than OK.’ His voice is high with excitement. ‘Lisa’s had the baby, and I thought you’d want to know.’
‘Oh, wow!’ I squeal. ‘Are they both all right?’
‘They’re fantastic. Seven pounds eight ounces. We’re going to call her Leila.’
‘That’s a beautiful name.’
‘Lisa would love to see you.’
‘Me too. When can I see her?’
‘She’s coming home tomorrow, so you’re welcome to come round when you finish work if you like?’
‘I can’t wait!’
‘See you tomorrow, then. I’ve got a ton of people to call, so I’d better go.’
‘Congratulations, Jack.’ I hang up and turn to Ben with a smile, passing on what Jack’s just told me. ‘I’m going to see her tomorrow night.’
‘Great. Can I come with you?’
I’m surprised for a second. Theo would never have wanted to hang out with my friends, if I had any; they wouldn’t have been good enough for him. The more I think about things, the more I realize everything was on his terms. ‘Are you sure you want to?’ I frown.
He plants a kiss on my forehead. ‘Absolutely.’
‘How did I get so lucky to find you?’ I run my fingers through his hair.
