by Piper Lennox
“Yeah?”
He nods, his face slowly growing stony again. “You took my virginity, Mel,” he says, quiet as the rain. “I couldn’t forget that if I tried.”
It’s so strange to hear him say I took his virginity, because I’ve always thought of him taking mine. “I still think about it a lot, too,” I confess. “That’s part of why I came today, actually. I handled the whole thing really, really poorly.”
“It is what it is,” he says. I can’t tell if that means he’s no longer angry, or just as angry as ever.
“Do you think about the rest of it?”
“You mean, the actual sex?”
I run my fingers along the controls in my door and don’t answer.
“Yeah.” I feel his eyes on me again. “Do you?”
“Sometimes.”
The silence is back, save for the rain. It comes down harder.
“I don’t know what you were so afraid of,” he says, and I can definitely hear the anger in his voice now, edging back. “You acted like it was all to preserve the friendship, and look what happened.”
I think about what Josh said just a few minutes ago, pretty much the same thing, and remember all the nights that little ironic twist kept me awake.
“I know.” I feel strangely detached from my words, from myself, like I’m having an out-of-body experience, I’m so nervous. “I guess I just...freaked out, or something.”
“Things could be so different now,” he says. It sounds like it was meant more for himself than me. I nod, anyway.
Blake
The rain starts coming down in sheets across the windshield. I get off the highway, cruising slower through the surface streets, but can’t see more than a couple feet ahead of the car.
Mel doesn’t talk at all. Her hands are tented in front of her mouth. Every breath blasts through like the hiss of a hydraulic door.
“Can you stop that?” My hand bumps her elbow as I downshift. “It’s annoying.”
“Maybe you should pull over until it passes. This is bad.”
“I can handle it,” I assure her. But when a bare expanse of curb appears, I pull up against it.
“Thank you.” She relaxes as I put the car in neutral and yank up the brake, indicating that I’m willing to wait a while, even though I’m not.
I pull out my phone to avoid conversation. My social media feeds are filled with coworkers from the ad agency, posting vacation selfies or fancy brunches, and where am I? Running away from my own estate sale, on the side of the road with a girl I’ve spent three years trying to forget.
I expect her to get out her phone, too. Instead, she leans forward in her seat and watches the sky.
“It’s kind of pretty,” she says. “I love summer storms. The sky turns such a weird color.”
I lean into the wheel and check it out. Sure enough, between the clouds, the sky is a bright, ghostly kind of purple.
“Is your girlfriend going to mind you being in the car with me?”
I look at her. “What?”
“Your girlfriend,” she repeats, and picks at her cuticles like it doesn’t matter to her, either way. “That blonde girl beside you at the funeral, right?”
“Oh, Caitlin-Anne. No, that’s over.”
“Caitlin-Anne,” she says to herself. “That sounds like a Cabbage Patch Kid.”
I try not to laugh, but it slips out.
“She...seemed nice. What I saw, at least.”
“She wasn’t.” It’s the first time I’ve admitted it to anyone, but Caitlin-Anne was a brat, simply put. Obedient in the bedroom, sure, but spoiled and entitled in every other arena. “I mean, she’s a Fairfield. Not to generalize, but…that kind of says it all.”
“A Fairfield? Like, the Fairfields?”
I nod wearily. The Fairfields are well-known in our city, the oldest money around. “I won’t say she’s a bad person. But I won’t say she’s a nice one, either.”
“Yeah,” Mel says, laughing, “I’ve got some exes like that, too. This one guy, Mitch—”
“Hey, uh—I don’t need to hear about any of that.” I shake my head and drum my fingers on the steering wheel.
“Why? You jealous?”
“No. Just not interested in the details.”
“Okay, well, I wasn’t going to give details. Just telling a story, like you were doing about your ex. But whatever.” She folds her arms across her chest and plunks back in the seat. “You know, you said I don’t get to ask questions anymore. Well, if that’s true, you don’t get to be jealous.”
“First of all, I’m not jealous. And second, I didn’t do shit. You’re the one who freaked out and left.”
“You told me to get out, remember? And besides, it’s not like you ever tried calling or stopping by. Don’t pin it all on me, okay?”
“No,” I bark, my voice swelling inside the confines of the car, “I will pin it all on you, because it’s your fault. I wasn’t going to reach out when you made it pretty fucking clear you didn’t want anything but friendship. And then, not even that.”
“That’s not true.” Her volume rises to match mine, but I hear it snag, her pitch warped with tears. “I missed you like crazy, Blake. Every single day. And you know what? I think you’re lying. You are jealous. I can see it on your face.”
“Whatever. Even if I was—which I’m not—what’s it to you? I can feel however I want about it.”
“Not if I’m not allowed to ask some basic questions and catch up.” She turns to me, arms still folded. “You’re not mine to worry over anymore, and I’m not yours to get jealous over.”
Maybe it’s the panic attack I’ve been fighting since I left the estate sale, or the adrenaline twisting up my stomach ever since I heard her voice. Part of it might be the way she’s sitting, pushing her breasts up without realizing it.
Most if it, I’m sure, is the tone of her voice. How sure of herself she is. Defiant.
Whatever it is, something in me snaps.
When I push across the seats and pin her body down with mine, kissing her, her scream turns into a yelp, and then a moan. Fear, surprise, need, in exactly that order.
“You are mine,” I tell her.
Ten
Mel
My body’s in flight mode, every sense I’ve got telling me to get out of here. I’ve never seen Blake like this: an animal, baring its teeth. Claiming what’s theirs, even if it’s not.
Actually, I realize, I have seen a glimpse of this Blake once. That night we lost our virginities, when I first started to doubt everything. He lifted me onto the dryer like I was nothing, just tiny prey in his claws. The force of his kiss, his fingers, his tongue—I’d almost forgotten.
When he pulls back and tells me I’m his, I stare at him. Both of us are panting and the rain shatters down around us. His eyes are a fiercer blue than I remembered, steeled and cold.
His new, bulked-up body strains with his strength, every part of me pushed back against the seat. When he kisses me again, he surrounds me. It brings a certain kind of terror with it that I’m surprised to find I like.
Because I know Blake can take anything he wants from me right here, right now. And I’ll give it to him.
“Backseat,” he orders, and leans back just enough for me to wriggle free. As I climb through the seats, he grabs the waistband of my pants and pulls them off. My panties come with them. It throws my balance off; I tumble, naked from the waist down, into the backseat.
Blake climbs back after me. His shoulders slide against the roof of the car. Everything rocks from side to side with his weight.
“Lie down.”
He looms over me, one hand on either side of my head, and undoes his pants.
I have a feeling he’s not going to be gentle, this time.
Blake
“Wait,” Mel exclaims. I pause, palming my erection and pressing the tip against her. “Don’t you want to....”
“Want to, what?” I give her an impatient look. “Get a condom?”
“Um—no. I mean, I’m...I’m on the Pill.”
“Then, what?”
“Can we do some foreplay?”
I just stare at her. “Why? I know you’re already wet for me.”
“Well, shit, Blake,” she snaps, pushing her legs shut. “Foreplay’s about more than greasing the wheel. It makes the other person feel comfortable. I shouldn’t have to tell you that.”
“You aren’t comfortable?” I shrug and start to pull away.
“I didn’t say I wasn’t comfortable,” she protests, and gives me this look like she knows I’m bluffing, but isn’t willing to call me on it. Which is probably a good thing, because if she weren’t holding my tie right now, anchoring me in place, I’d bluff my way all the way back to the front seat.
“Fine. Here.” I push two fingers into her at once, no warning. She gasps and pulls me even closer.
Call it petty, but I’m determined to get my way, this time. So when Mel shuts her eyes again and whispers, “Yes, keep doing that,” I stop. Before she can complain, I’ve replaced my fingers with my erection, thrusting inside fast and deeply.
“Oh, God,” she moans, lifting her shoulders off the seat. I catch a whiff of perfume, something like honeysuckle. I don’t recognize it. It makes me furious, a reminder of all those years apart—but excited, at the same time, to learn just how much has changed.
I lean down and bite her collarbone, the tiny section visible at the top of her blouse, as I sink all the way inside. Her entire body shudders.
“You like that?”
She doesn’t answer. Her eyes are still closed.
“Hey.” I grab her chin and make her look at me. “Answer me when I ask you a question, Mellie.” My voice lowers. I speak slowly, deliberately. “Did you like the way I bit you…while putting every inch of myself inside you?”
Her eyes, that jewel-toned green I’ve never forgotten, glaze over. Fear, anger, lust. She wants this. She just hates admitting it.
“Yes,” she whispers, finally.
“Sound byte rules,” I correct. “Always answer me in a full sentence. Repeat what I’ve asked you.”
“Yes,” she says again, with just a hint of sarcasm, “I liked the way you bit my neck…” Here, her voice breaks. She swallows. The sarcasm’s gone. “…and put every inch inside me.”
“Not bad.” To reward her, I duck my head and pull her shirt down, the cup of her bra going with it, and work my tongue around her nipple.
“Yes, Blake,” she sighs. I feel her hands wind into my hair, pulling me against her. My hips sway faster. Harder.
“Come for me, Mellie,” I order. “Now.”
Mel
Blake’s command puts panic in me. “What? I—I can’t. Not right away.”
He looks up at me. “Did I ask you?”
“Well...I mean, you said—”
“No,” he growls, “I didn’t ask you to come. I told you. Now do it.” His order is punctuated by a bite to my nipple.
“Ow!” I yelp. I start to push him off, but stop: in a weird way, it felt good. Really good.
“Okay, okay,” I relent, “but at least let me touch myself. Otherwise, it isn’t going to happen.”
He smirks. For just a second, I see the old him. “Wasn’t stopping you.”
Blake watches me slip my hands between us. I find my own rhythm quickly. The harder he stares, even though he’s barely moving, the closer I get.
“Looks like you’ve gotten the hang of things,” he says. He looks at me from under his brow. “Been practicing?”
“Yeah,” I laugh, the sound breathy and surreal, “I guess you could call it that.” I tilt my head back again and watch the sky fall, rain coming straight at me and splattering against the glass.
“You know,” I tell him, “I think about you every time I do this.”
“Really.” He seems pleased, but not surprised. Like he never doubted that I still think of him that way, that I’m still attracted to him. Like he knew, even before I got in this car, I’d let him inside me again.
I nod. “You were the one who taught me how, after all.”
“You would’ve picked it up, one way or another.” He pushes all the way inside again. I forget to breathe, I’m so focused on it: just when I think he can’t go deeper, he does.
“Blake,” I groan, because it’s happening; my vision starts to black out at the corners, and my ears ring, and all I can think about is him pushing deeper, so far inside me that I can’t remember what it was like to be empty. What it was like to be without him.
“Come for me,” he says again. He doesn’t thrust, not once. Just pushes, millimeter by millimeter. It starts to hurt but God, it feels so good.
Noise spills from my throat. My hand moves faster and I force myself to stare back at him, unblinking, as it begins.
Blake
She screams.
It’s so primal and loud, filling up the car and echoing back and forth between flesh and metal, but I don’t think she can even hear herself. She stares at me and through me at the same time.
“That’s it,” I say, over and over, swallowing back my own moans when I finally tip over that edge and empty myself into her. I stroke her hair as she drifts down from the high. I owe her at least one gentle gesture, after so much force.
“Oh, my God,” she says, when it’s over. Then, she starts to cry.
Mel
I don’t know why I’m crying. My nerves are shot to hell in an instant and I just lie there, sobbing underneath him.
He doesn’t seem surprised by this, either. He brushes the tears away with his thumbs, hands holding the sides of my face as he says, “Shh, it’s all right, Mellie. You’re okay. I know.”
“So much,” I manage, half-sobbing.
Blake pulls out slowly, chuckling at the whimper I give when I’m empty. “Yeah? Too intense?” He tucks everything away and zips up his pants, sitting beside my feet. So casual, too casual, the way he fixes his hair in the rearview and straightens his tie, like he’s already forgotten what we did. What he did to me.
Meanwhile, I can’t even sit up. My thighs are shaking and my vision is blurry, like the whole world’s in watercolor.
“Blake,” I say, speaking to the roof as I catch my breath, “what happened to you?”
He laughs again. This one is heavy and low. It scares me—and not in a good way.
“You,” he says.
Blake
“Me? How?”
“When you left that day,” I explain, picking her loose hair off my dress shirt, “I realized...I put myself in that position. The passive, quiet, super friendly approach put me there.” I shrug. “So I decided I wasn’t going to do that anymore.”
“That wasn’t an approach,” she argues, finally able to push up into a sitting position. “It was your personality. It was you.”
“Was,” I emphasize. “Not anymore.”
“But why?”
“Because I was tired of not getting what I wanted in life. If you want something, you’ve got to decide it’s yours and claim it.” I look at her. “Otherwise, you’ll never get it.”
“That’s not true—”
“Sure.”
“—and even if it were, you…you can’t just change like that, overnight.”
“Oh, it wasn’t overnight.” I grab her pants from the front and pass them to her. “It took a while. Practice.”
Mel shakes her head, trying to make sense of it. “So you’re saying it’s my fault you’re like this, now?”
“Like what, exactly?”
“I don’t know...commanding, I guess.” Her foot jumps, fidgety. “Controlling.”
“I just go after what I want, now,” I say, watching her struggle back into her clothes.
“And you still want me?” she asks. Like she can’t believe it. Like I didn’t just fuck her to tears in the back of my car.
I tuck her hair behind her ear and hook her chin in my fingers. This time, I don’t make her look at m
e. I just guide.
“You’re mine. Remember?”
Mel
“I guess I just...don’t know why you’re forgiving me, already. You seemed pretty mad, a few minutes ago.” I shut my eyes as he kisses me. It’s gentle, like the Blake I knew before—but confident and dominating, which is not.
“I didn’t say I forgive you. But this....” He holds my face in his hands again and stares at me, our foreheads touching. “It’s a good start.”
I smile. The silence settles between us, and I wait for him to ask if I forgive him, too.
He doesn’t. This New Blake doesn’t seem like the apologizing type, and I don’t dare mess up the moment by asking. There’ll be time for that—I hope.
The rain’s letting up. I climb back into the front seat, Blake right behind me.
“Okay,” I say, as I buckle my seatbelt, “where do you want to eat? I’m actually pretty hungry after....” I smile, heat rising to my face. “Well.”
Blake doesn’t answer. He shifts around in his seat, looking out the windshield with his brow furrowed. I notice he’s rubbing his chest; his breath is hoarse, like the asthma attacks he got when we were kids.
“Blake?” I touch his arm. “Are you okay?”
“Um...yeah,” he says, just before his eyes slide shut, and he falls against the door.
Eleven
Blake
I wake up in a hospital room. It’s probably the ER; every wall is a curtain, and I hear the shuffle of padded shoes, the murmur of families.
“Blake,” Mel says, smiling through tears as she squeezes my hand. My other arm, I realize, has an IV in it.
“Get me out of here.”
She blinks. “But...the doctors haven’t even been in to see you, yet. You passed out and—and you weren’t breathing right, your heart was beating super fast—”
