by B. N. Toler
He smiles. “I guess I’m not being very clear here. I want to know, are we exclusive?”
“Oh,” I squeak out. “I’m not dating anyone else if that’s what you are asking.”
“So do you want to . . . I don’t know, be exclusive?”
I meet his gaze once more and smile faintly. He is a gorgeous man. “Okay,” I agree. “But Vick, I need . . .” Ugh, how do I say this? I need time before we do anything sexual? I’m just not ready? Which is total bullshit as I would have gone all the way with Connor last night. But that was a mistake.
A big drunken mistake.
“I know,” Vick pipes up, saving me. “I don’t mind waiting, Demi. Sometimes taking your time is the best way.”
My heart pings. Damn, he’s so sweet. We lay back, rolling toward each other and spend the next hour making out under the stars. When I drop him off at home, he kisses my forehead.
“Thank you. Tonight was awesome.”
“Anytime.” I smile back.
“Meet tomorrow?” he asks, hope rich in his tone.
“Yeah, that sounds good.”
After I leave his house, I head straight home. The garage is locked up, and the lights in Connor’s apartment are off. I try not to let the disappointment set in. Why should I be disappointed? As I park my car and turn it off, I let my forehead thump against the steering wheel. “You have some serious issues, Demi,” I tell myself.
The summer days move on, long and lazy, the way they should. Vick and I see each other every night for the next two weeks. Somehow Jeff manages to get the few odd jobs I had for him done, but he avoids me at all costs, and once they’re completed he doesn’t even ask for the remainder of the money I owe him. I stopped by their house to drop it off, but no one answered the door. I’ve called Wendy almost every day, and she won’t answer my calls. It hurts that they’re giving me the cold shoulder when all I was trying to do was help.
Connor and I barely speak. When we do, it’s polite. He helps carry groceries in, and he’s changed the oil in my car, but conversation has been minimal. Dusty has started working with Connor. They’re rebuilding an old sports bike, and he’s always very chatty with me when he sees me. But I can’t deny . . . the tension between Connor and me is bothering me. I seldom fall asleep without it drifting through my mind.
Roxy has also been over more, always inviting me to join them for dinner or whatever outing they’re about to go on. Not that I would have accepted the invitation under the circumstances, but the way Connor’s eyes always seem to drift away when she asks speaks volumes. Of course, I always decline. Like I need to see Connor and Roxy side by side. Ugh! It’s bad enough she spends the night, and I’m tortured thinking about what they’re doing, wondering if he kisses her anything like he kissed me. I hate myself for thinking about it.
So I’ve focused on Vick. Handsome, funny and charming Vick. We go hiking, fishing, shopping, and I even join him and his uncle on a late night job and help paint. When he brings me home afterward, he opens his truck door for me and helps me out. The first bay of the garage is open and the second is closed. My heart beat speeds up a bit. Vick and Connor haven’t met yet. Somehow I’ve avoided having them in one place at the same time. Taking a deep breath, I pray Connor doesn’t come out of the garage.
“Fuck!” a deep voice yells scaring me to death. I rush inside the garage to see what’s happened. Connor is kicking the bike he and Dusty have been working on, but not hard enough to do any real damage to it. He’s shirtless, and his face is red, the large veins down his neck and arms are popping out as his body is tensed in anger.
“Are you okay?” I pant, fear pumping adrenaline through my veins.
His gaze whips up to mine, and he opens his mouth to respond, but his line of sight moves directly behind me, and his mouth snaps shut. Looking over my shoulder, I see Vick standing behind me.
“Everything okay?” Vick asks me, cautiously as he eyes the garage.
Looking back to Connor, I ask, “Is it? You scared me to death.” I give a little smile, hoping he knows I was only worried about him.
“I’m good,” Connor grumbles. “Sorry I scared you.”
There’s a proper etiquette when you happen to be the person who knows two people that don’t know each other, and you’re standing right in front of them.
You should introduce them.
Dear Abby would smack me right now.
Because for some reason, my manners have escaped me, and Vick takes the lead.
I explained to Vick who Connor is, so he’s aware of the situation—minus the ‘we almost had sex weeks ago’ part—but this is the first time there’s been an opportunity to meet.
Walking up to Connor, gingerly stepping over tools and random parts, Vick holds out his hand. “I’m Vick, Demi’s boyfriend.”
What? Are we using that word? My eyes widen at his admission and Connor’s eyes narrow as he looks from Vick to me. I quickly tame my features and look away, unsure of what to say here. I mean, I guess Vick is my boyfriend. We’ve been dating, right? And we did agree to see one another exclusively, so yeah, boyfriend would be a term one might use to describe his place in my life. But why does it feel . . . off?
Connor gives his hand a quick shake and says, “Nice to meet you.” Giving Vick and me a quick once over, he notes, “Painting today?”
Vick smirks as he looks back at me. “Yeah, Demi joined me and my Uncle on a job. Though I think she got more paint on herself than the walls.”
“Looks that way,” Connor agrees though his eyes are staring at his bike. Maybe only because I know him well, it’s extremely obvious that he does not want to talk to Vick.
“Yeah, well, my walls still turned out better,” I joke.
Vick steps over the parts and approaches me. “You did a great job, hon,” he coos as he gives me a chaste kiss. Heat racks my body, embarrassment setting in. When Vick pulls away, Connor shakes his head and yanks a rag off the table next to him, wiping his hands. Suddenly, I just want to go. I just want to get as far away from Connor as possible.
“Care for a glass of wine before you go?” I offer as I move to exit the garage.
“Definitely,” Vick agrees enthusiastically.
“Don’t let her have too much,” Connor yells, causing me to turn, not understanding what he means. “Sometimes when she gets drunk she blacks out and can’t remember anything.”
Ouch.
Did my stomach just drop to the ground? Wow. Connor just took a shot at me. It’s the first time he’s acknowledged the night we kissed since I pretended to be so drunk I didn’t remember what happened. Now, he’s calling me out.
Right now?
Really?
I’m floored. I can’t even process this moment.
“She seems like she handles herself pretty well,” Vick disagrees as he throws an arm over my shoulders.
“You two have a good night.” Connor snorts, ignoring him as he turns his back to us.
Looking down at me, paint spackled all over me, Vick smiles as he takes my hand and leads me inside to my kitchen. My heart is still hammering in my chest. Connor is mad at me. Now I know, for sure, I’ve hurt him—or at least made him angry. He just made it abundantly clear. But he’s with Roxy. How can he even have the audacity to be mad at me? At the sink, Vick wets a paper towel and brushes some of my hair from my face.
“Damn, you have some beautiful eyes, woman,” he groans as he dabs the napkin on my face. I force myself to smile at his compliment and try my best to shake thoughts of Connor.
“Yours are pretty nice, too,” I retort.
He stops dabbing and stares at me, our eyes locked, heat seeping up my body and blanketing my face. But I’m not embarrassed. I’m . . . turned on. These last few weeks have been incredible. Vick has been patient, attentive, and hasn’t once crossed a line with me. And although Connor and our heated . . . night still lingers in my mind. I can’t deny I’m attracted to Vick. But there is something . . . something I can’t p
ut my finger on that keeps me from wanting to throw myself at him. I’m excited to see him every time we meet. I love his smile, and he always makes me laugh like crazy, but that feeling of . . . zha-zha-zsu is missing. When I fell in love with Blake, I craved him. He devoured my every thought. There wasn’t a night where he wasn’t the last thought to drift through my mind or a morning I awoke where he wasn’t the first thought to enter my mind. I was smitten. Maybe you only get that one time in your life? Maybe we are all only promised one true love? Maybe I’ll never feel that again?
But deep down I know that’s not true.
My love for Blake could never be compared, but I know I can still feel those kinds of feelings for someone.
I know this because I feel them for Connor.
Add in the tortured dynamic of forbidden love and I’m your modern day Juliette.
“I’m still waiting,” Vick whispers as he softly brushes his lips against mine.
“Waiting for what?” I mumble against his mouth.
“For you to be ready. I’ll wait until you tell me you’re ready, okay?”
I kiss him quickly and pull away, turning to the sink and washing my hands. I don’t want to discuss sex right now. I don’t want to even think about it, so I don’t answer. Vick watches me for a long moment, waiting for my response, but to his credit lets it drop and starts teasing me about my painting skills. We turn on some music and share a bottle of wine in the living room before he heads home. But when I go to bed that night, I wonder if maybe I’m just scared. Is that why the thought of having sex with Vick feels so . . . foreign? Granted, I wasn’t scared with Connor the other night, but I was drunk, and alcohol can definitely take the edge off.
I roll on my side and punch my pillow a few times as if it’s the pillows fault I can’t sleep. The truth is, the Vick sex thing isn’t what’s keeping me up. It’s Connor. Of course, it is. He’s angry with me, and it bothers me so profoundly that my insides ache. I hate myself for playing dumb and acting like I was too drunk to remember what happened. After another hour, I jerk the blankets back and head downstairs to get a glass of water. Standing on my tiptoes, I peek out the kitchen window. Connor is cleaning up the garage, his shirt off, and all I can do is stare. His hands are tinted with grime and oil from working on the bike, and his face is scruffy with a few days old beard. I reach my hand up and rub my neck, feeling tension gripping my muscles. I gulp my water, my gaze never leaving him as he sweeps the floor, the muscles in his back flexing as he moves. I have no idea how long I watch him, but I can’t seem to look away, even when my hand drifts down and my thumb dances over my hardened nipple straining against the fabric of my shirt. He walks to the back of the garage, out of sight, and I close my eyes trying to remember the feel of him against me. Letting my hand drift down further, I slip it under the band of my shorts and panties until I reach my core. The moment I touch my clit a thrill so intense shoots through me it makes me lurch forward and moan. But it’s short lived as the glass in my hand slips and breaks in the sink. Cursing, I snap to and back away. Another glass lost to me fantasizing about Connor.
Shaking my head, I leave the glass and rush back upstairs. These feelings are insane. I shouldn’t want him this way. It’s wrong. I know it is. And I realize now, maybe I am in need of physical contact. Maybe I do need to feel a man intimately, and somehow in my desperation, I’ve warped thoughts into a fantasy that Connor is that man.
Lying back down, I take a deep breath. Vick is amazing. He’s incredibly handsome and funny. Maybe I’m not in love with him . . . yet, but that might come with time. And so what if it doesn’t? I’m not a mutant. We all need sex. Would it be so terrible to share that with Vick knowing he may not be my next great love? I don’t think so. And maybe, just maybe, he could sate me; scratch that itch.
Maybe if I make love to Vick, just maybe I will stop wishing I could make love to Connor.
I wake up with a new outlook and determination. I’m going to embrace my sexuality. I’m going to stop making sex about love and happily ever after’s, and I’m going to open myself up to the idea of fulfilling my physical needs. Tonight is the night. I’m ready. And I know Vick is too. Tonight I will make love to a man after three years of hardly any physical contact. My stomach is in knots, but that’s normal . . . I think. Right?
I spend the day cleaning my house and going through my closet and drawers, getting rid of old clothes, anything to keep my mind occupied, so I don’t overthink tonight. When the afternoon rolls around, I lay out my sexiest dress and pull out my laciest bra and panties. As I get ready, I take my time, hoping I can make myself look halfway as good as my sister would. Lexi would be ideal to help me with this, but I don’t want her to know I’m planning on going all the way with Vick tonight. She’d probably climb on my roof with a megaphone and announce it to the world. But even without her help, I manage just fine. In the end, my dress fits like a glove, my legs look stellar in heels, and my dark hair is curled perfectly, draping softly over my shoulders and down my back. I’m not sure what to do about the fear in my eyes. More eyeliner maybe? Saying the words, I want to have sex with you, to Vick, seems impossible. I’d probably choke on spit trying to. I’m hoping the outfit will be enough—that it will do all of the talking for me. Vick and I agreed to meet at a little restaurant on the edge of town tonight at 7:00 pm. Around 6:30 pm, I head downstairs and look out my kitchen window to make sure Connor was nowhere in sight.
Coast is clear.
My clutch pressed tightly to me, I scurry out the back porch and down the stairs. I’ve just rounded the corner of the house when I stop in my tracks. Connor is leaning against a white car, arms crossed as he stares at a woman who is flailing her arms and talking animatedly. I don’t know if I should just try to sneak around them or go back inside to give them privacy. She’s a beautiful woman with long blonde hair and a short, but thin figure. Is this an ex of his? Or maybe a woman he hooked up with giving him hell for not calling?
I shake my head and roll my eyes. I thought more of him than this. Is he sleeping with multiple women? What about Roxy? Would I have been another notch on his belt? My heart aches at the thought, but I thank God nothing more happened between us. At least I’m not this woman. With that thought, the blonde’s head whips toward me and her brows rise as she slowly looks to Connor.
“Is this her?” she asks, jabbing her thumb toward me. I narrow my eyes in suspicion. What has Connor gotten me dragged into? A jealous lover’s quarrel?
“Look,” Connor says, sternly, as he stands to his full height causing the woman to step back. “You’ve said your peace. I’m sorry for your troubles, but coming here isn’t the solution to them. I’ll pass along what you’ve told me. You should go.”
I’m standing like a statue, watching them, wondering what I should do. But however direct Connor’s statement to this woman might have been, she’s not taking a hint. She turns on her heel and marches toward me.
“You’re sleeping with my husband, aren’t you?” she asks as she stops in front of me.
“Lady,” Connor warns as he moves to step between us, blocking me from her. “You need to go.”
All I can do is stare wide-eyed, unsure of what I’m being accused of. Sleeping with her husband? Is she talking about Connor? No, there’s no way he’s married.
She raises her left hand modeling a small diamond ring. “Vick,” she says, simply. “He’s my husband, and you’re fucking him.”
My mouth drops open as my stomach flips.
Vick?
Vick is married?
“Three years,” she adds as she drops her hand. “I’m pregnant with our second child.”
My heart hammers in my chest as I stumble back and catch myself against the side of the house. Connor quickly turns and pulls me up, holding me as I process.
Vick is married.
Vick is married.
Vick has a kid and one on the way.
Vick is married.
Even witnessing how this news
has knocked the wind out of me, blondie continues. “Told him I was pregnant two months ago. When I woke up the next morning, he’d cleaned out our savings account and took off. His mother wouldn’t tell me where he was until I threatened to never let her see her grandkids.”
I move my gaze to her and see she’s watching me. I’m giving her exactly the reaction she wanted. Vick may be a deadbeat husband and father, but that’s not my fault. She came here to punish him by hurting me. She knew telling me would ruin any chance he had with me, which is one hundred percent true, but her method of doing this was harsh. She didn’t have to hurt me to hurt him. Or maybe she did, but she could’ve been nicer . . . or more delicate.
Connor turns back to her. “You’ve said your peace. Now go,” he orders her.
Blondie backs away and shakes her head. “Should’ve known he’d go for the first easy piece of ass in town,” she jabs.
Connor lurches forward, but I grab his arm, stopping him. I know he wasn’t going to hurt her, but he was probably about to yell some choice words. Stepping around him, I look her in the eye. “We haven’t slept together. I’m not sure if that’s what you want to know or not. But you have my word we haven’t done anything beyond kiss.”
Her blue eyes run up and down me, her distaste of me evident. “Women that wear dresses like that are looking for more than kissing.”
My fists clench at my sides as I fight to maintain calm. I don’t need to stoop to her level. I don’t need to insult her. I don’t know her, and she doesn’t know me, which makes this whole conversation ridiculous.
“You can leave now,” I answer with a patient smile. “I’ll let Vick know you stopped by.”
Shaking her head again, she spins around and climbs back in her car and takes off. As soon as her car is out of sight, Connor turns back to me, an unsure and sad smirk on his face. His shirt is dirty with oil and grime, and sweat covers his brow, but he looks handsome as ever.
