Unveiling Hope

by Jeannine Allison

  “And can I just say, it feels pretty emasculating to order snickerdoodles. It sounds too close to poodle. Not masculine at all.”

  Chuckling, she walked over with the entire box. “I didn’t realize cookies could be masculine or feminine.”

  “Oh, for sure,” I said as she plopped down on the couch.

  “What would be an example of a masculine cookie?”

  I tipped my head back. When I came up blank, I said, “I’ll get back to you.”

  Sam shook her head before mocking, “You’re not fooling me.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’ve heard you use baby talk with Andy, and I’ve seen you play hide-and-go-seek with Rory. I’ve caught you singing along to Taylor Swift and I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you drink a cosmo.”

  “Are you saying I’m not masculine?”

  At my outrageous expression, Sam bit her lip to contain her laugh. “I’m saying masculinity has nothing to do with what you like to drink or eat. Or how you interact with animals and babies. It’s about a lot more.” Her grin widened as she pointedly looked at my lap. “I can’t say whether or not you… live up to the other requirements.”

  I smiled. “You’re walking into dangerous territory, babe.”

  She shrugged like she had no idea what I was talking about, but I saw her shoulders shake with quiet laughter. Sam removed one of the cookies before setting the box on the coffee table.

  “You think it’s funny?”

  Sam stayed silent, still facing forward, but her lips tipped up.

  My eyes were on the television but I was watching her out of the corner of my eye. When she finished her snickerdoodle, I tossed a few pieces of popcorn on the ground, which Rory eagerly ran after, and nonchalantly put the bowl down next to the box.

  I turned toward Sam with a grin.

  “What?” she asked, swallowing roughly. I said nothing and watched her grow nervous under my stare. “What?” she repeated.

  “Take it back.”

  She shook her head, laughing. And before I knew what I was doing, I reached over and started tickling her. With a scream, she tried to scramble away from me. But I grabbed her hips before she could escape and pulled her into my lap. Her back to my front, she squirmed, trying to reach around and tickle me back.

  She was unsuccessful, and I laughed as her legs flailed. Sam’s laughter echoed throughout the apartment, and it was a beautiful fucking sound.

  Eventually she wiggled her way between me and the back of the couch. I deftly flipped her on her back and straddled her legs, my fingers still flying across her ribs.

  “Stop… stop…” she wheezed, bucking against me.

  Jesus Christ.

  My cock grew hard as I imagined us in the same position under different circumstances.

  Instead of asking me to stop, she’d beg me not to. She’d dig her nails into my skin and bring us as close together as possible. Our clothes would be strewn across the floor as I slammed inside her, breathless at the feel of her tight, wet pussy. It wouldn’t be her laughter echoing but her moans. I’d lean down and taste the cinnamon and sugar clinging to her lips. My hands would be…

  The sudden silence made me realize I’d closed my eyes. They sprang open and landed on Sam. At some point during my lust-filled fantasy, I’d pinned Sam’s hands above her head with one of mine. The other rested on her waist, but I wasn’t tickling her. My fingers had found their way under her shirt and were softly caressing her skin.

  Sam’s breasts strained under her T-shirt, her breaths coming rapidly. I was about to get up when she bit her lip and her gaze dropped to my mouth.

  I froze.

  Could she…?

  “Thanks for the cookies,” she whispered.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Very slowly, I leaned forward until my hips pinned hers. She gasped, eyes wide and heated. I slowly rested my forehead against hers. Our noses bumped together and our breaths shared the same space. It would be so easy to kiss her.

  And suddenly all the reasons for staying away from this girl were very, very far from my mind. It was only the two of us. That was all that mattered.

  I swallowed roughly. “Sam?”

  Her eyes that had fallen shut fluttered open, and she licked her lips. “Yeah?”

  “I—”

  Sam’s phone cut me off, ringing shrilly from her purse on the counter. She didn’t have special ringtones for people, but our eyes locked and I knew we were thinking the same thing.

  John.

  The person calling her could very well be her boyfriend.

  Her boyfriend.

  My hands flew from her body and I climbed off her. I stared at her purse as she dug her phone free. She read the caller ID and her guilty eyes met mine. Her lips parted like she wanted to say something.

  I left before she had the chance.

  Derek’s door slammed shut and Rory startled, whimpering as she moved closer to me.

  It was such a cliché. The two of us wrestling only to end up in a compromising position. I wondered if people started that fake wrestling crap knowing where it would lead. Or was it something in their subconscious?

  My eyes dropped to my still-ringing phone, and before it could go to voice mail, I answered. “Hello?”

  “Sam?” John asked. I felt even shittier when I heard the excitement in his voice.

  “Yeah?”

  “I have a present for you.”

  “You do?” I asked.

  “It’s at your door.”

  My lips dipped down in confusion. It was nearly eight o’clock at night. “Okay, hold on a sec.”

  Rory ran up next to me, wagging her tail, as I unlocked the door.

  “Surprise.” John smiled and hung up his phone.

  My stunned expression lasted only a few seconds before I schooled it into joy. “Hey! You’re… you’re here.”

  I looked down at Rory and quickly ushered John inside before she could be tempted to run out. The door shut and he immediately wrapped me in a hug.

  “I’ve missed you.” John dropped a few kisses on my neck and pulled back. “I’m sorry it took so long for me to get out here.”

  “Don’t be sorry. It’s only been a month.”

  “Almost two.”

  “You’ve been busy. I understand.”

  “That’s because you’re wonderful. But I still don’t like it.” He looked around the tidy living room. “It’s a nice place. Where’s your roommate?”

  “Oh. Uhh…”

  Derek’s bedroom door opened and John turned, still smiling, until he saw Derek standing there. I cringed as John looked beyond him, presumably for my “roommate.”

  Derek had a strange smile on his face as he stepped forward and held out his hand. “Hey, man. Derek.”

  “John,” my boyfriend said slowly, placing his hand in Derek’s. “You’re…?”

  “Sam’s roommate.”

  “Oh.” John’s hand fell away.

  Derek nodded, shot me a hard look, and moved to the kitchen.

  My boyfriend turned to me and whispered, “You didn’t tell me your roommate was a guy, Sam.”

  “I didn’t?” It hadn’t been on purpose. We just hadn’t talked about it. “He’s a friend of Gabe’s.”

  John visibly relaxed as Derek came back into the room. And I could’ve sworn Derek’s jaw clenched at my words.

  John put his arm around my shoulders and steered me to the couch. We sat down but Derek stayed standing. Awkwardness hung in the air.

  “What do you do, Derek?” John finally asked.

  “I tend bar.”

  “Oh.” John laughed. “That doesn’t give us much to talk about.” He wasn’t unkind, but you wouldn’t know it by how Derek’s eyes narrowed. He thought John was mocking him.

  “Well, we don’t all have a daddy to set us up with a nice cushy job.”

  My jaw dropped. I was pretty sure I’d never even mentioned what John did. But if he knew how we’d met, through our fathe
rs, it wouldn’t be hard to guess.

  “Derek,” I snapped. “What the hell?”

  He shook his head, slammed his fresh bottle of beer on the counter, and stormed back into his room.

  “I’ll be right back.” I squeezed John’s arm before following Derek.

  Without knocking, I threw the slightly ajar door open. “Okay. What is—?”

  I stopped short when I saw he was shirtless. Swallowing, I forced my eyes up only to find him smirking.

  “See something you like?” But unlike the playfulness in which he said it against the counter a couple weeks ago, this was taunting. He was challenging me.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his hands drop to the waistband of his sweatpants. I refused to let my eyes wander as he lowered them, his stare hot on mine.

  But when he moved to discard his boxers, I drew a line. Walking forward, I grabbed his hands, stopping him. Unfortunately that brought me extremely close. Too close. My knuckles grazed his stomach.

  “You want to do the honors?”

  “What is wrong with you?” I hissed. I felt stirrings in places I’d rather not think about, places that were far too affected by Derek’s words and presence, places that should only belong to the man in the other room. But those feelings weren’t enough to dismiss my frustration.

  I dropped his hands like they were on fire. His smile fell too and any trace of playfulness disappeared. Derek moved to his closet and roughly pulled on a pair of track pants and a T-shirt.

  “He wasn’t making fun of you, Derek,” I said quietly.

  My eyes were on his back and I saw some of the tension leave his shoulders. “I know.”

  “So why were you such a jerk? He’s only been here five minutes and you—”

  Derek turned around and his slightly bleary eyes searched mine. “I want what he has.”

  I frowned. Derek would hate working in an office. He’d loathe the “cushy job” John had. He’d go crazy. Maybe it was the respect? The money? But Derek had never seemed like the kind of guy who would care about that.

  “You mean feeling successful?” I asked. “That’s just perception. No matter what, there will always be someone who will think you’re unsuccessful. The only measuring stick you can use is yourself.”

  Derek’s eyes turned sad, like I’d missed the point. Then he shook his head and grabbed his wallet and keys off the dresser. “I’ll leave you two alone for the rest of the night.”

  When he got to his bedroom door, I asked, “Will you come home?”

  He looked back. “Probably not. I’ll crash at Lauren’s or something.” Again, he looked for a reaction. And it took everything in me not to give him one.

  It wouldn’t be fair considering I had John in the other room.

  But I also wasn’t stupid. I was jealous. Jealous of Lauren. Jealous of anyone who Derek spent time with. Jealous of anyone who was brave enough to say what they wanted. Jealous of anyone who just reached out and took it.

  I was working hard to be the kind of woman my mother would be proud of. To be bolder.

  And so far I was failing. I was running. Denying. Refusing.

  I’d spent the last year trying to figure out how to stop thinking about Derek, and it hadn’t worked. I still thought about him. And now he was right in front of me. I would give anything for Derek and me to be more.

  I had no idea if he still saw me as a kid, or if he was seriously dating Lauren. There was a lot I didn’t know.

  Seemingly we came from two different worlds. He was laid-back and fun-loving, a go-with-the-flow kind of guy, and I mentally planned out when I’d be showering for the next week. Even if he didn’t still see me as a kid, he might think we had nothing in common.

  But could he see what I saw?

  How loyal we were to our parents, regardless of our siblings’ insistence that we shouldn’t be. How we both seemed to come alive when we were playing music.

  On the surface it was easy to see how we wouldn’t work. But there was a lot about us together that did make sense.

  And I knew the most important thing: I had feelings for Derek. Feelings that hadn’t gone away. Not with time or distance. If anything, they were stronger.

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

  I can do this.

  I can tell him.

  I’m ready.

  With one more inhale and a slow exhale, I opened my eyes, right as the front door slammed shut.

  He was already gone.

  I HUNG MY HEAD and ran a hand through my hair. I wanted to stay in here and overanalyze everything that happened, but I couldn’t sulk long without raising John’s suspicions.

  Taking a deep breath, I walked out. John gave me an unsure smile. “I didn’t mean to upset him. I was—”

  “I know.” I sat down next to him, my legs curled under me and my arm resting on the back of the couch, propping up my head. “That wasn’t about you.”

  John studied me for a moment before asking, “Is there something going on with him? He seemed… jealous.”

  I shook my head. “There’s nothing there, I promise.” I looked away before he could see the emotion in my eyes and focused on the television.

  John brushed some of my hair out of my face. “Are you okay?”

  Nodding, I smiled and tried to forget all my fanciful ideas about Derek.

  To forget how he always managed to make me feel better when I was down.

  To forget how he remembered me mentioning a craving for snickerdoodles and then went out of his way to get me some.

  To forget the way his smile got a little bit wider whenever I saw him.

  John was a good guy. He was one of only two friends I’d had while at Dartmouth. He didn’t deserve for me to be thinking about someone else.

  These thoughts ran through my mind as I contemplated whether I could really break up with him.

  I’d never broken up with someone before. Did I tell him it was because I couldn’t stop thinking about someone else? Did I tell him that someone was Derek? Did I tell him that the whole thing was moot anyway because Derek might not feel the same?

  Then there was the added complication of us being a long-distance couple. Did I do it now, in person? That seemed the only right way to do it. But wasn’t it also cruel to break up with him when he flew all the way out here to surprise me?

  We finished watching TV, my mind no less settled, and went to my bedroom. I shut the door and turned toward my boyfriend.

  Before I said a word, he grabbed my face and kissed me. It was the kind of kiss that should steal the breath from your lungs and the thoughts from your mind. But our already lukewarm chemistry had grown even colder. The kiss was nice, just the right amount of pressure and not too much tongue, and yet I felt nothing. No stirring between my legs, no thrashing of my heart… nothing.

  A kiss shouldn’t be summed up as nice. A kiss should be indescribable.

  We broke apart, and John smiled. “Damn. Why didn’t I do that right when I walked through the door?”

  Because you could wait.

  Because I could wait.

  Because we aren’t the stumble-in-the-dark-and-rip-off-all-our-clothes type of couple.

  Our hands don’t wander. Our minds aren’t filled with dirty thoughts of each other. Our hearts aren’t invested.

  Any of those answers would have been the truth.

  John’s hands worked their way under my shirt, his thumbs rubbing soft circles over my skin.

  “John, we can’t…”

  His brows furrowed. “Sam, I haven’t seen you in months. I haven’t… you know, in months.” John seemed embarrassed as he cleared his throat. “I’m not saying sex is all I care about, but I was kind of hoping you would have missed me as much as I missed you.”

  I swallowed down the truth and said, “I did. But Derek could come home. After he’s done…”

  With Lauren.

  “We’ll be quiet.” His lips found my earlobe. “Besides, I’m sure you’ve heard him
a time or two.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut. “No. I mean… I’ve heard him… masturbating a few times. But he’s never brought anyone here.”

  John lifted his head and stared at me, dubious. “C’mon, Sam. What makes you think he’s masturbating and not in there with someone? A guy like him? He probably doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but he’s definitely finding a way to sneak girls in. That’s what a friend of mine did in college. Especially if he’s your brother’s friend.”

  Had he been sneaking girls in? Was that what I’d heard?

  “Please, Sam?” John’s hips rolled into mine. When I stayed quiet he slowly walked me backward until I was caught between him and the door. I said nothing as he pulled off my shirt and stuck his hand down my pants.

  I tilted my head back and allowed John to suck on my neck, letting thoughts of Derek float far, far away.

  I faked an orgasm.

  For the first time in my life, I did it. Essie said it would happen eventually, but I hadn’t believed her.

  It was nearly six in the morning and I was wide awake, staring at the ceiling. John and I weren’t touching, which wasn’t odd because we never cuddled, but the usual foot-wide gap between us felt miles long and very telling.

  Turning my head on the pillow, I stared at him. His hair was a little too short. His skin a little too pale. His eyes were brown, not blue. He didn’t snore. He didn’t play the guitar. He didn’t hide behind humor when he was scared. He didn’t hold his mother and sister together for years even when they didn’t notice or appreciate it.

  John was a good man. He was kind and honorable and smart and sweet.

  But he wasn’t the right man. Not for me.

  I jumped when his alarm went off. He rolled over and gave me a perfunctory kiss before silencing his phone and getting out of bed. I listened to him enter the bathroom and start the shower. He was out a few minutes later and rushing into the room to get dressed.

  Lifting myself up on my elbows, I asked, “Where are you going?”

  “I have a breakfast meeting at seven.” John fastened his watch like everything was normal.