by Nikki Wild
“He was giving me the third-degree, that’s for sure. Ignored me when I knocked. I thought that was you peering at me through the curtains.”
“It was that bad?” He sighed. “Alright… I’ll have a word with him about that. I don’t need my weird friend scaring away the company and not opening the door for guests…”
Dalton held his door open for me, and I stepped into his bedroom. A large king-sized bed dominated the space. The walls bore a couple of posters – mostly models, sexily strutting for the camera. In the corner, there was a desk, set up with a computer; a display nearby had some awards on it, along with what looked like his Marines graduation gear.
There was another flat-screen TV on an entertainment stand, facing away from the bed. Although smaller than the living room set, it was still almost as big as our own television in Natalie’s apartment. He had it paused on some sort of nature documentary.
“I know it’s not much, but with this whole house to myself, I never know how to fill the space,” Dalton shrugged.
“No, I mean, it looks nice.”
He smirked. “Yeah. Nice. This looks nice. I’d hate to see what you think bad looks like. Anyway, what are you doing here?”
“I wanted to apologize for earlier,” I told him quietly. “Sorry if I came off a bit rude. And I just wanted to see you.”
“You wanted to see me, huh?” Dalton chuckled, although his eyes told me that he was pleased to hear this. “Come on over, then. The bed’s warm. Hope you don’t mind a little Meerkat Manor.”
“You’re watching Meerkat Manor?” I asked, amused. I didn’t really know that much about the show. From what I recalled, it dramatized the lives of a pack of meerkats in the Serengeti.
“Totally. This is my jam when I need a pick-me-up,” Dalton smiled. He kicked out across the huge bed, his back up against the wall. I settled down beside him, keeping just enough distance between us.
“This is so plush,” I thought aloud as I got comfortable on his bedding.
“Memory foam,” he chuckled.
“You’ve got a rental house, expensive TVs, and memory foam mattresses? What kind of crazy inheritance do you have?”
Dalton coughed involuntarily.
“Oh, I just have a big bank account, thanks to eight back-to-back years in the Marines,” he answered. “I mean, yeah, I probably splurged a little much, but I figured I’d treat myself now and get it all out of the way.”
“I see that,” I replied, looking around briefly.
The computer in the corner didn’t look particularly impressive, and besides some nice furniture and the televisions, it seemed like everything else was just here to fill the space attractively. Even the vehicles outside weren’t too crazy, although I was guessing now that the car probably belonged to his roommate.
“So, what do you wanna do?” Dalton asked, peering at me from the corner of his eye.
“I dunno,” I answered truthfully.
There was no way that I’d come here to fuck him, especially with the complication between us… but here I was, seated beside him in the most comfortable bed I’d ever beheld. We were watching some nature show together, the silence between us already starting to crackle with desire.
“Well, I’m fine with us just continuing to watch this for the moment,” he shrugged, letting the next episode queue up.
“Okay. That sounds good.”
The show continued on, and I found myself questioning what I’d hoped to get out of the night. This was my first time in his home, and I was here in his bed… pretending that I didn’t want his strong, handsome arms around me.
But we haven’t been seeing each other for long, I tried to reason to myself. And then there’s the matter of our parents… no reason to fuck THAT up.
No matter what, my logic couldn’t stand up against the feverous craving that was building up inside me… the yearning need to take things further.
Although he thought he was being coy, I could tell that he was watching me more than the show. His eyes kept subtly tracing my body, and I knew that he was itching to pull me up against him.
“I’m glad you came,” he quietly told me.
“You know, I’m glad that I came, too,” I nodded. My lips started to betray me when they continued: “I’ve been dying to see you.”
“Is that so?” He subtly dragged the words out.
I nodded. “Yeah. It’s been on my mind all weekend. That’s why I didn’t understand earlier… I just wanted to be around you again.”
“You’ve been on mine too,” he confessed, pulling me a little closer. “And there’s something I’ve been wanting to do that entire time…”
“Oh yeah?” I asked, feeling my cheeks go flush with pleasure. “What might that… be…?”
I let the words drift as he tenderly gazed into my eyes, leaning forward. He pulled me into a deep, passionate kiss that felt as if it was setting off every last nerve ending across my skin, and my arms wrapped around his neck as he pushed me down into his comfortable bed…
9
Kissing Clara again proved to me that the sensations I felt the first time weren’t just some fluke. I felt alive when my lips were on hers, in a way that I hadn’t experienced before… not with previous girlfriends, flings, or one-night stands.
It was real.
The moment that I realized this, pulling her down into the bed with me, I felt significantly both better and worse about not telling her about the proposal. I wanted to get everything out of this that I could, regardless of what our parents did or didn’t do.
Yeah, it was selfish. But guess what?
You might have noticed that I’m actually kind of a selfish guy.
I didn’t push any further moves on her that night. Time wasn’t on my side; there was no way I was going to scare her off before she found out about the impending wedding.
We simply enjoyed ourselves together, keeping all of our clothes on and basking in their collective warmth and the emotion of our bodies. I tasted her mouth, nipping her bottom lip between my teeth and sliding my tongue along hers, biting at her earlobe...
When daylight streamed through the crack in my curtains, pouring along my face, I realized that we had fallen asleep together. Clara was nestled up against me, her ass pushed into my hips as I woke up spooning her.
I realized that I was nursing one hell of a morning erection. Oh, what I would have given to rip her jeans off and plow that rock-hard pillar of demand straight into her wet, willing pussy…
Instead, I struggled to will that bad son of a bitch down, focusing on how angelic she looked in the semi-darkness. Her chest was slowly rising and falling with her deep slumber, and with every exhalation came a very subtle, almost inaudible groan of air.
Tenderness overcame me. Feeling the pressure of her sleeping body, and the delicate sound of her breathing… it was all casting a spell over me.
I feared that I was falling in love with her.
Fate be damned, I can’t let this girl become too important to me, I thought to myself. But it was no use. As it just so happened, I loved every stupid little fucking thing about Clara Campbell.
She didn’t come willingly into my presence, and she clearly wasn’t going to put up with any shit from me. To someone used to effortless pussy on a platter, whenever I wanted it… I reveled in the unexpected challenge.
Besides that, she was diligent, clever, and rather intelligent. As we’d talked into the night, she’d told me about the stresses and complications of her banquet server job; I’d related a few old war stories to her from my days in the service.
It had been an eye-opening night for the two of us, and when we did slowly drift to sleep, we had great, big, stupid smiles on our faces. We had peered into each other, learned about one another, and were only pushed closer together by what we had learned.
From one perspective, that was scary.
From another… it was empowering.
Either way, I couldn’t just watch her sleep all da
y, no matter how much I really wanted to. Reluctantly, I nudged her awake.
“C’mon, sleepyhead. Time to get up.”
Clara looked up at me groggily, stifling a yawn. As she slowly came to, alertness gripped her.
“Wait – Dalton? Where am I?”
“My bed,” I replied with amusement.
“What? I fell asleep here? What time is it?”
“I don’t know,” I answered, growing slightly annoyed now. “My phone’s on the charger. Why, is something wrong?”
Clara rolled onto her back and fished her phone out of her pocket. Flicking it on, the time blared brightly into the room, temporarily distorting my vision.
“Hey, could you give me a little warning next time, love?” I asked with aggravation, shielding my eyes with a hand.
“Oh fuck, I was supposed to pick my work shifts last night!” She grumbled loudly. “Great. I completely fucking forgot about that, and now all the good ones are taken… I can’t believe this happened…”
“Clara, look, it’s not a big deal,” I muttered. “Just pick them later. You want to grab a bite to eat or something?”
She jumped up from my bed, grabbing her keys and wallet up off the floor. “I’ve gotta get going,” my guest unceremoniously muttered as an afterthought.
Before I could respond, she was darting out the door and down the hallway.
Well, that’s fucking great, I growled inwardly.
I wasn’t going to let her bullshit cloud up my day, so I climbed up and locked the front door, noticing that her car wasn’t out front. Wow, she left in a REAL hurry there, I bitterly thought to myself. Traipsing back towards my room, I swiftly made my bed before turning on the faucet and stepping into the piping-hot shower.
What the fuck was THAT all about?
I wasn’t a fan of taking long showers. By the time I’d rinsed the traces of oil and grease out of my hair, scrubbed my entire body down, and begun toweling off, I was still plenty furious with her. The wound was fresh, but it was also irritating that I’d let her damage my typically bulletproof ego.
There was no getting around it: Clara’s sudden departure had rattled my cage more than I’d anticipated. But when I threw on some jeans and a casual tee and lifted my phone up off the charger, I noticed a text from her.
> Sorry to leave so quickly. Work stuff. Had a good time with you.
“Work stuff,” I murmured to myself angrily. “Well, no shit, Sherlock. I still think that could have probably waited…”
I tossed the phone onto my couch and started picking up after Pete. While I was questioning why I let him stay with me for free, I scooped up the forgotten bag of potato crisps, the half-empty can of Rockstar, and the dishes he’d left on my coffee table.
At least his mess is always centralized, I thought to myself. If he’d been one of those people to make a disaster zone of the entire house, I’d have him out on his ass faster than you can say Semper Fi.
Focusing on his bullshit took my mind off of Clara, and when I finally wiped my hands clean and started wondering about her again, I realized that my subconscious had done that little trick with problem solving.
You know how, when you’ve got a problem, and you distract yourself with something else for a little while, when you come back to the problem it’s sort of worked itself out?
Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about.
My gut reaction had been to just ignore her for a few days, intentionally this time. Put her on the defensive. She knew she’d fucked up, given the apologetic text she’d sent.
But I reminded myself: time isn’t on your side.
That’s why I sauntered back over to my phone, snatching it up off the couch as I flicked the living room set on. I queued up some mindless drivel from my personal list of saved shows for some background noise as I contemplated how to word my response:
> Not gonna lie, it kinda pissed me off.
It was a bit of a gamble, but I remembered how she felt about learning that my grandfather was on the way out. A few minutes later, her response came through:
> I know. I’m really sorry. I think I just freaked out over waking up with you. Is there any way that I can make it up to you?
I smiled to myself slyly, although the longer I thought about her message, the less confident I grew in my intended response.
Throwing caution to the wind, I typed:
> I want you to meet me again tonight. But you’re going to have to be okay with us. There’s no telling how soon our parents will take things to the next level, and I want one solid night with you. I want both of us to ignore them, ignore the future, and just share one awesome night together.
I hesitantly hit send, and let the phone clatter to the couch. That was one hell of a dice roll that I was taking on her, and I knew that, in all likelihood, I was just shoving away my only chance at something with her before she got the news…
When she didn’t respond, I dedicated my time to some history homework. Being in school was useful as a distraction, and a little more engaging than sitting in front of the screen and slowly losing muscle mass.
It was after I knocked out my assignment that I noticed that she’d responded. Although my phone had been off of vibrate, I must have missed the ring of the notification.
> Okay.
Relief flooded my veins.
Okay? I thought to myself, letting a triumphant grin crawl across my face. Oh, I can DEFINITELY work with ‘Okay.’
With victory growling out from my throat, I thrust a punch into the air. The hard part was over… and now I just had to set the mood for the evening.
You only get one shot at this, I told myself. Hell, Father or Sarah might ring her up and break the news beforehand, anyway…
I brushed the thought aside.
Well, if that happens… then it happens, I shrugged. There was no point in focusing on that right now, not with this opportunity bared out before me.
I didn’t want to come off too strongly, so I paused for a little while and collected my thoughts. I took stock of the house and realized bitterly: This place is a fucking pigsty.
Luckily, Clara hadn’t spent much time out of my bedroom while we’d been together, and she’d darted straight out when she’d left.
I’m going to have to have a word with that guest of mine, I thought to myself with vexation. After I’d made up my mind about my afternoon, I whipped my phone back out and fired off a reply.
> Cool. See you tonight. 7ish?
A few minutes later, she replied:
> Sure thing. I’ll text you later so that we can figure out the details. See you then.
With that groundwork laid, I focused my attention back on cleaning up the mess that had become my rental house. He’d only been around a collective several days out of the last month, but he’d been surprisingly present the last couple in a row.
I got to work, putting my military cleaning regiments to good use. Arming myself with bleach, disinfectant, rubber gloves, and some solid washrags, I gave my house the entire drill from top to bottom: sweeping, dusting, mopping, vacuuming, scrubbing, polishing, soaking, buffing…
It ate up a couple of hours, but the place had never been any cleaner. Although I was a little lax for someone who had once scrubbed floors with toothbrushes, I still expected – nay, demanded – clean surfaces and minimal dust. Still, it was funny to me that it took the combination of a grimy guest and a cute girl to properly kick my ass into gear on the home cleanliness front.
After a brief break in front of the television with a well-earned cup of tea, I noticed my phone ringing to the side.
It was Clara.
I wasn’t really feeling a phone call, so I let it ring to voicemail. Whatever it was, she could either leave a message, or just text me.
When it rang again, I filled with dread. Something’s wrong, I thought to myself as I hesitantly answered the phone.
“Clara?”
“Dalton, we, uh, need to talk…”
I d
idn’t like the fearful tone of her voice.
“Oh yeah? Is something the matter?”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. By the time she responded, I already knew what she was going to say.
“So… apparently, our parents are engaged.”
No, I thunderously growled internally. No. I was SO FUCKING CLOSE. Don’t you DARE rip this away from me, right at the cusp of victory…
“Is that so,” I replied as impartially as I could.
“Yeah,” Clara answered. “Mom just called me a little while ago and excitedly told me the news. She said that she was going to wait until tomorrow to tell me, but she was too thrilled to sit on it.”
If only you’d kept your fucking mouth shut one more day, I bitterly thought about my future stepmother.
“Well… that’s not exactly great.”
“No, not really,” Carla commiserated. “You want to know the really fucked up thing, though?”
“What’s that?”
“Apparently, they’re on some sort of crazy deadline. Because of your grandfather, they want to do this thing fast.”
“…How fast are we talking?”
“Uh, Tuesday?”
If there was ever a time that I could physically feel my spirits fall, it was that moment. The weight of my soul came crashing down upon the jagged rocks of fate, writhing in startled pain until there was nothing but hallow emptiness left.
“Tuesday. This Tuesday? But it’s Saturday,” I grumbled furiously down the phone. “What the hell are they thinking? Why are they rushing this?”
“From what it sounds like, your grandparents being present is sort of really important to your Dad,” Clara elaborated sadly. “It’s a done deal. Plane tickets have already been bought. She says she picked that day because we’re both out of school, and apologized if that screws with any plans either of us had…”
Oh, it definitely screws with my plans. But it wasn’t TUESDAY that I was particularly worried about…
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
“Alright. So, we’re going to be in some slapped together little wedding on Tuesday, then,” I grumbled to myself. “This isn’t fucking fair. Why? Why couldn’t they have let us have this one fucking night together?”
