His To Have

by Devon Birchley

  He comes back downstairs again, humming. “I have to leave in a moment, but I can drop you off,” he says.

  “No. I want to walk.”

  “It’s far, Reagan.”

  I shrug. “It’s a nice day, and I need the exercise.” He tries a couple more times, but I insist. At the door, he hugs me tight, then kisses me softly on the lips. For that final instant, I allow myself to yield, lose myself in him.

  “I’ll see you in two weeks. Be good.”

  “Yes, two weeks.”

  I don’t look back as I walk down his path.

  14

  I spent all of Sunday afternoon crying, and now it’s Monday, Valentine’s Day, and I’m alone with very unwelcome images popping into my head every few minutes. The obnoxious Lark with the cute rosebud nipples. The beautiful Callie. I’m sure Lark used to be his sub. And now they’re best friends, having a laugh at the conveyer belt of innocent girls who throw themselves at him, begging to be corrupted. I used to believe he was amazingly perceptive, correctly guessing that I had a kink I wasn’t aware of. But I’m coming to think he tries that line on every girl You need a man whose breath in your ear is enough to make you yield all control. That all women take one look at those molten caramel eyes and fall to their knees, ready to do his bidding. It was pure chance that he happened to be right about me. And when he’s not having nasty sex, he’s going on vacation with movie stars. Because, of course, he has a regular girlfriend. Probably a long-distance relationship, which explains why he’s away so much. Guys as hot as Adler don’t end up with girls like me. They marry girls who look like Callie.

  I can’t do this anymore. It’s tearing me apart, and it’s not me. I don’t do relationship angst; I never have. I hate feeling nervous and on edge. I’ve never understood girls who sacrifice themselves to the whims of guys in the misguided hope that it’ll make the guys love them. But that was exactly what I did Saturday. The recollection knots in my stomach until I want to be sick. But it wasn’t your fault, another part of my brain tells me. It was his. You’d never played in public before, so of course you felt pressured. He should’ve taken better care of you.

  Hugo isn’t doing anything tonight, and I badly want to call him up and invite him for a beer. But I suspect I’ll end up doing something I regret. Instead, I drink wine and watch movies. I’m not even a fan of V-day. Hugo and I never made a big deal of it when we were together. But today it’s a bitter reminder that the man I’ve fallen for will never be my boyfriend. Being with Adler was like being shown the most beautiful, incredible thing in the world, and just as I reach out to take it, a barrier comes crashing down in front of me, telling me It’s not for you.

  I’m done here. I need to go back to when boyfriends were friends and I could ask them anything. I’ve got to take this for what it was, a great experience, and just let go.

  I’m dozing in front of Netflix when I get a message alert. My heart jumps pathetically as I open it.

  How are you? I hope the bruises I gave you are healing well. Things are hectic here. I’ll write more soon, Adler xx

  I throw the phone down on the bed. What kind of pointless message is that? How are you? It doesn’t even deserve a reply. I delete the text, then I delete him as a contact.

  It turns out to be a shitty week. We fail to win a pitch that Jeremy said was in the bag, and I get the sense that he blames me for it. I was pushing him to go with an idea I had, and it looks like it cost us the account. When I arrive on Tuesday, I see him heading into a meeting with Ellen, one of the other execs, and my stomach turns over. He’s cast me off, just like that. Now I’m no longer working with him, I end up being given a lot of crappy little jobs, and no-one seems to be happy with my work or how fast I’m doing it. By Wednesday evening I’m virtually in tears as I leave the office. Pretty ironic, really—I’ve ended up with a dominant, uncompromising man at the center of both my personal and professional life, and it sucks ass. Not that Adler has ever been as ruthless toward me as Jeremy though. No, he’s generally been very kind and considerate when he hasn’t been dominating me. Which is even worse, because it’s left my heart wide open to being torn apart.

  Adler messages me during the evening, asking how my week’s going, detailing how much he misses my body. I can’t bring myself to reply. I know it’s wrong. I’ve never been that person who avoids messages and creates unnecessary complications. But I just can’t do it. I want to cut off all thoughts of him.

  Monica calls me late in the evening, and I finally give in to the tears that I’ve been trying to hold back.

  “Oh, Rea! I hate to hear you like this. This isn’t the girl I know. What’s that town done to you?” she says as I tell her everything.

  “I know. And that’s what I hate the most. I’ve managed to have healthy relationships this whole time. And then I try something I have a lot of misgivings about, and it fucks me up.”

  “Come home this weekend. I can swap my shifts, and we can spend the whole time together.”

  “Yes, I will. Thank you, Mon,” I snuffle.

  Things don’t improve in the office on Thursday or Friday. Jeremy has pointedly ignored me on several occasions. Very cautiously, I ask one of the junior copywriters about him while bumming a cigarette out in the alley.

  “Yeah, he gets very precious about things. He’s an insane perfectionist, and if anything goes wrong, his brain literally malfunctions. Sit tight. He’ll be fine in a couple of weeks,” he says. I guess I should be reassured by this, but I’m not.

  I leave at five p.m. on Friday, pick up a hire car, and drive home. When I start to see the signs for Springfield, my heart lifts. I go straight to Monica’s. I haven’t told my family I’m back because I don’t want to get roped into all kinds of stuff, deal with all the questions and noise and constant chaos. As much as I love my parents and Cara and the boys, I need sanity and time to reflect right now. Monica greets me at the door with a big hug, and the world immediately feels a little better.

  “Tonight we’re going to stay home and get pizza and drink wine and talk lots,” she informs me.

  “I love you, Mon.”

  “I love you too, honey. And I promise, by the end of the weekend, we’re going to have you back to normal again.”

  She’s the best. The best friend a girl could have. And I love her no-nonsense style. We grew up together, supporting each other, endlessly teasing each other, and it taught us not to whine when we had a problem, but to deal with it head-on. As I walk into Monica’s place, I’m shocked. I forgot how much space there was here. Her living room is at least twice the size of mine.

  By the time we’ve finished eating pizza, we’ve agreed that I need to message Adler and tell him that I want to end our arrangement. Monica helps me with it.

  I’m sorry that I didn’t reply to your messages this week. The truth is that the ball made me realize that I can’t continue seeing you, and that hasn’t been an easy thing for me to acknowledge. I’ve enjoyed our time together a lot, and it’s been an important journey for me. However, this lifestyle isn’t what I want for myself in the long term. I’m more conventional than you, Adler, and I do want to have a regular boyfriend. I think you’re a great guy, and you’ve often surprised me with your kindness and generosity—which is far more than I would have expected from our arrangement. I wish you all the best for the future. Reagan.

  My fingers are shaking as I hit send. This is it. I’ll never see that beautiful man again. Never hear him call my name, take possession of my body. It hurts. But I know it hurts less than the alternative—which is that he’ll break my heart a little more every time I see him.

  “You’ll be fine, girl,” Monica says, squeezing my shoulders. “Let’s get you signed up to some dating apps, and you’ll have a boyfriend before you know it.”

  “I’m not ready,” I protest. “I know what I felt for him wasn’t real love, but it was so intense I need some time to get over it.”

  “Of course, you do. But there’s no reason to
get lonely either. Go have some fun. Or you’ll spend those evenings that you used to be with him moping by yourself.”

  In the following days, we go to all our old, favorite places. I feel complete in a way that I haven’t for a long time.

  “There’s a job going at the food co-op for an advertising director,” Monica says casually on Saturday afternoon. “I’ve seen the spec. Seems like it’s very hands-on, and you’d have the freedom to do whatever you wanted pretty much.”

  “Is that so?” I reply, stirring my cappuccino.

  “Why don’t you come home, Rea? All your friends are here. There are some great guys around here. You won’t have to work for some asshole corporation. You’ll get to do what you love without being judged all the time.”

  I get a little jolt in my stomach. Could I do this? Right now, it feels like heaven.

  “And don’t go thinking that it’d make you a failure. You’ve tried big-city life and figured out it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Come back and be happy.”

  “I don’t know. I’m sure I’m too junior for a job like that.”

  “Rea, are you kidding? This is the co-op. They’re totally non-hierarchical. If you show them your work and your qualifications, they’ll jump at the chance to employ you.”

  Okay,” I say slowly. “Maybe you could pass on my résumé and see what they think about it.”

  Monica claps her hands together. “Consider it done.” Then she pinches my cheeks. “I’d so love to have you back home again!”

  When I leave on Sunday afternoon, I feel soft and a little drowsy from the comfort of the past two days. There’s a lurch of sadness as I hug Monica goodbye.

  “Look after yourself. And I hope to see you very soon,” she says.

  When I think of home, I always imagine it in the coziness of the early evening, I think, as I get back on the highway. Shopping in stores where everyone knows you, planning a fun evening with close friends. Happy times stretching ahead.

  Adler didn’t reply to my message. He took me at my word and didn’t want to try to change my mind. Good. I block his number, aware that there’s still a tiny part of me waiting for a message, and I want this to be the end of it.

  During the week, I catch up with Hugo twice. He’s still dating his workmate, and the tension between us has gone. I’m very relieved and glad we can be friends now. We have beers on Tuesday and go see a gig on Thursday.

  Work is a little better. One of the other directors has given me some work, and I’m busy again. But my heart’s not really in it. I keep thinking of the job at the co-op, wondering if I’ll be happy in the long term. I’m starting to feel like I would. Monica calls, saying they want to meet me next week. Excitedly, I book Monday off work and decide to go back to Springfield on Saturday.

  On Friday, I have to stay late at work, and it’s almost seven p.m. by the time I leave. All I want to do is go home, take a bath, and have an early night. I’m not paying much attention to my surroundings, and the BMW parked outside the office building barely registers. But suddenly Adler is emerging from the driver’s side door then striding toward me. The world tilts on its axis.

  “Reagan! Are you okay? I’ve been trying to call you, but your phone keeps going to voicemail.” He stops two feet in front of me and there’s something new in his eyes—something anxious and pained.

  “Adler.” I run a hand across my forehead. “What are you doing here? Did you not get the message I sent you?”

  “Yes, I did. And I called as soon as I could.”

  “But-but why?” I’m tired and startled and confused all at once.

  “We need to talk—”

  “I said all I had to say in the message. I can’t do this anymore. I’ve had a lot of fun with you, but it’s been getting harder and harder to deal with—” My voice catches, and I break off. I don’t want to tell Adler that I have feelings for him, don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that yet another sub has fallen for him. He reaches for my hand, and I pull it away reflexively.

  “Reagan, please.” He looks more gorgeous than ever, but I can’t stand the sight of him.

  I bite down on my tongue to stop myself from bursting into tears. “Adler, just let me alone. Go find yourself another sub.” I turn around and start walking fast in the direction of the metro.

  I don’t hear any steps behind me, and I’m glad. But a minute later, he’s streaking past me, coat flying behind him. He lands in front of me, but I keep walking, so he’s forced to walk backward. “I don’t want another sub.”

  My pace slows. “I don’t understand. What are you saying?”

  He stops dead, and I walk smack-bang into him. His arms go around my waist to stop me from falling. Those big, strong hands that have both caressed and hurt me so many times. His face is working, as if he’s wrestling with a difficult thought. “I want to be with you.”

  “What?”

  “I said I want to have a relationship with you.”

  I shake my head from side to side. “Is this some game? Are you trying to get me to continue being your sub because no one has refused you before? You said you don’t do relationships.”

  “It’s not a game. And yes, I didn’t do relationships. I never have.” He hesitates, as if he’s afraid of what he’s about to say. “But I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.” His eyes are vulnerable, and his smooth manner and unshakable confidence are gone.

  “I don’t understand—what do you mean?”

  “I mean I’ve fallen for you, Reagan.”

  My mouth opens and closes several times. “Fallen for me when? Last time I saw you, you were the same as ever. Except you hit me like you hated me. And you’ve just been away for two weeks without telling me where you were. I’m sorry, but I’m not seeing it, Adler.”

  That look I saw before at the ball, where his face kind of crumpled, is back, but this time it stays fixed to his face. He sighs, blowing out a long curl of condensed air. “I don’t blame you at all. I know this probably seems crazy and inconsistent. But I’ve got a lot to explain, and I hope that when I do, things will make a lot more sense. Will you give me a chance to speak to you?”

  I raise my hands and drop them again while conflicting thoughts push me in different directions. It was so hard to turn my back on him that a big part of me doesn’t want to go back, doesn’t want to risk opening myself even the tiniest bit to him.

  “Please. I know you must be tired from work. But come for a drink. I think at the least, you’ll feel better if I explain. And then if you still don’t want to have anything to do with me, I’ll respect that.”

  I think it’s the change in him that sways me. He hardly seems like the same person as the cock-sure guy who stepped into my life at the Sexpo and talked me into becoming his submissive. “Okay,” I say. “Let’s go have a beer.”

  He breaks into a dazzling grin, and we walk back to his car.

  During the journey, he reaches for my hand. I don’t pull away, but I don’t grasp his fingers either.

  “I’ve missed you a lot,” he tells me.

  “You have?” I mumble, aware that I’m acting like a robot, but I think I might be in shock.

  “So much. I couldn’t stop thinking about you these past weeks.”

  Instead of replying, I gaze out of the window as we pass through the bright lights of the downtown area, at the bars that are filling up with the post-work crowd.

  “I know I’ve probably freaked you out a little,” he probes.

  I turn my head back to him and take in his perfect profile. “That’s an understatement,” I say.

  Soon, we pull up outside The Black Heart and head down the narrow metal staircase. We sit at the same table as before. Again, I’m struck by how different he is. He looks almost anguished.

  “For the past two weeks I’ve been with my sister,” he begins in a halting tone once we’ve ordered beers. “She’s been going through a very rough time. She recently lost her six-month-old baby to sudden in
fant death syndrome, and her husband has left her, too. It tore them apart.”

  “Wow. I’m so sorry.”

  “Callie is a great person, so full of life, and it’s been so hard to see her like this.” Callie. The beautiful girl with the chestnut hair not so different from his own. Of course she’s his sister.

  “Callie and I went on a road trip from California to Georgia. It’s something we’ve always wanted to do since we were kids. I think it did her some good, and I was very happy that I got to spend time with her. We talked a lot on the road, and I think it brought us closer together again.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” I say, and he throws me a look of gratitude.

  “But I missed you a lot. I missed your smell, your touch. Your snarky comments and your jokes. I missed the way you really laugh when I say something funny. Every beautiful thing I saw on the trip, I wished you were there to see it, too. But I was too chickenshit to tell you. And that’s why I sent you a lame message saying that I missed your body. Which I did, of course. But I really missed you. The whole of you.”

  I’m desperate to cut in, ask questions, but I sense that I need to give him time. He’s getting through his beer fast, and I figure he’s not used to discussing his emotions.

  “I mentioned you to Callie, more than once, and she gave me one of her ‘I’m ready to talk when you are’ looks. Which is when I realised you’re the first girl I’ve ever talked about. Then I got your message, and your words destroyed me. I wanted to fly back right away. If I’d been with anyone other than my sister, I would have. She’s the most precious person to me in the world, aside from you.