by Nikki Ash
chapter nineteen
Cole
Two Years Later
“I’m home!” The door slams closed, and Delilah comes running towards me, her smile almost bright enough to light up the darkness I feel perpetually stuck in. She jumps onto the couch and her arms go around my neck, pulling me toward her for a kiss. Her lips crash against mine, and I close my eyes, enjoying the feeling of getting lost in her: in her touch, in her smell, in her beautiful heart.
When she pulls back, she notices the channel the television is turned to, and her smile morphs into a sadder version, but she doesn’t say a word. She never does. Since the day Xander walked out the door and out of our life, Delilah has never once said a single word about any of it. Not about Xander sucking my dick. Not about the tension so thick, it about choked the three of us. Not a damn word.
“Who’s winning?” she asks, instead. Her way of bringing him up without actually doing so.
“Houston.” I grab the controller and turn the TV off. “They’re playing incredible. They definitely have a good shot at winning the championship a second year in a row.” And by ‘they’ we both know I’m referring to Xander. In the two years he’s been playing for Houston, he’s blown the fuck up, breaking rookie records left and right. It doesn’t surprise me, though. He’s always been an amazing athlete. “Now tell me...how did your interviews go?”
Delilah’s genuine smile returns. “I interviewed at three different schools, but my favorite was Worthshire Elementary. It’s actually where I ran into Summer. She was interviewing there as well.” Before Delilah left earlier for her interviews, she’d said she would be home for dinner, but then she called and said she ran into her friend, and they were going to grab a cup of coffee.
“Worthshire? Isn’t that the elementary school down the street?” I remember seeing the name listed under the schools that are hiring in the area.
“It is...and guess what? I got the job there! Actually, Summer and I both did! The principal called us both while we were having coffee, which is why I’m home so late. We ended up trading in our coffees for martinis to celebrate. We’ll both be teaching fourth grade!”
“That’s awesome! Congratulations! So, does that mean we’re staying here?” We always said after graduation we would go back home to get jobs, but then we graduated almost a month ago and neither of us, so far, has made any decisions. The truth is, while I would go back to Brenton for Delilah, it’s not my home. My home has always felt like it was here, in this condo, with my two best friends. Even now that one of them is gone.
“We are. I spoke to my parents and told them I would like to buy this place from them. They laughed at me and said they would allow no such thing...and then they insisted that they would be gifting it to me as a graduation present. We’re staying here, Cole.”
I feel my shoulders sigh in relief. “Thank you.”
“Of course...this is our home.” Her words come out soft, and I thank god for giving me this woman. “Now you just need to find a job and we’re set.”
“I’ll look later, but right now, I’d really just like to make love to my beautiful, amazing, newly employed, girlfriend.”
Delilah giggles. “That sounds good to me.” Her arms snake back around my neck, and I pick her up, her legs wrapping around my torso so I can carry her into our bedroom. I lay her down on the bed and take a second to admire just how fucking beautiful Delilah is. Her long, silky hair is spread out across her pillow, her brown eyes are wide open and twinkling with happiness. Her cheeks are still a bit flushed from the kiss we shared earlier. She looks alive, and I feel like the luckiest fucker in the world that I get to be a part of her life. That I get to witness every moment with this woman. There was a time when we never thought she would make it past her childhood, but here she is. A college graduate and now an elementary school teacher. She’s twenty-two years old and still alive.
I crawl over her, my knees parting her thighs as my hands come down on either side of her head. “I love you, Delilah,” I whisper into her ear before I press my mouth to hers, my tongue pushing through her perfect lips. Her hands go to my pants. She undoes them quickly, then tries to push them down with her feet. I break our kiss to help her, and in return, she pulls her dress—the one she wore to her interview—up and over her head, leaving her in only a white-laced bra and panties. I can see her erect nipples on display through the fabric, and I bring my lips down to wrap around one of them. I suck on the hardened bud, and Delilah lets out a needy moan.
“Fuck me, Cole, please,” she begs as her hands go to my hair, her fingers running through the strands. I back up slightly, so I can pull her panties down her thighs, then I pull my shirt over my head and bring my hands back down onto the mattress, caging her in. She grips my cock and guides me into her warm pussy. The same pussy I’ve spent the last year and a half getting lost in. As I pump in and out of her, my thoughts go back to the first time we had sex, just the two of us. I try to push them away and focus on Delilah, but I can’t. Once the memories surface, there’s no pushing them away.
“You’ve got to get your shit together, Cole!” Delilah yells at me as she turns the television off and throws the controller onto the table, knocking over several empty beer bottles. “You have finals to study for, and you can’t afford to fail them. You’re barely going to pass this semester as it is.” When I don’t say anything, she climbs on me and straddles my lap. It’s not sexual, though. It’s just to get my attention. My hands settles on the globes of her ass, and my head falls backward, hitting the back of the couch.
“Look at me, please,” she softly demands. I raise my head slightly, enough that our eyes meet. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself. If you want him...” she begins to say but stops. She always stops. For the last six months since Xander walked out of the door, effectively ending our eight year friendship, Delilah will begin to discuss him, but then she’ll stop. My guess is it’s because she knows how badly I’m hurting, but she’s never said so.
“He’s dating another model.” There are two times I see Xander: when he’s playing basketball, and when he’s seen on TMZ whoring himself around. The times when I see him playing ball, my heart swells with pride that he’s following his dreams. The times I see him with those random women, my heart hurts like a fucking bitch, that he left me—left us—for some cheap pussy, like we meant nothing to him.
“I’m sorry, Cole.” I don’t know why Delilah is apologizing. She isn’t the one who left.
“It doesn’t matter.” I shrug. “Fuck him.”
“Cole...” Delilah hates when I let my anger out about Xander, but I can’t help it. How the fuck did the guy go from being my best friend to walking out the door? You know how, you fool...you pushed him away because you couldn’t handle the idea of being in love with someone of the same sex.
“You know what I don’t get? How he moved on so quickly. He literally went from being with us to fucking all of them.” My head nods toward the black television screen.
“Maybe it’s not what it looks like,” Delilah says, and I let humorless chuckle.
“Really? You’re going to defend him?” I lift her off me and drop her onto the couch so I can grab another beer from the fridge. “He left you too, you know. Has he called or texted you?” Delilah’s mouth opens like she’s going to say something, but then she closes it, not answering. “That’s what I thought!” I grab a beer and slam the fridge door closed. I pop the cap off and watch as it hits the tiled floor with a clink before I guzzle down half the bottle.
“Cole, please stop.” Delilah grabs the bottle from my hand, and I let her. She slams it down on the counter. “I’ve had enough of this. I can’t live like this anymore.” Tears fill her eyes, and I feel like the biggest piece of shit. “I’m still here. I’m still your best friend, and I love you. I know I’m not Xander, and if I could...”
Before she finishes her sentence, I’m picking her up and placing her on the countertop. Without even bothering to remove
either of our clothes, I push her panties to the side and push myself inside her. She’s barely even wet, but I don’t care, and she doesn’t say anything. I thrust into her a few times, and she starts loosening up, her natural juices lubricating my cock. We don’t kiss. We don’t talk. We just fuck. I’m so lost in my anger over Xander, I don’t even get her off. Only once I’ve come, do I finally look at her. She has tears racing down her face, and I curse myself to hell for using the only friend I have left as an escape.
“Delilah, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t. It’s okay. I’m here, Cole. I’m here for you. Whatever you need.” Fuck, this beautiful, selfless woman. She’s been through two bouts of cancer, lost one of her breasts, and lost Xander just like I did, yet she’s here for me. I vow in this moment to do better by her. For the rest of our life, or until she chooses to move on, I’ll be there for her. I’ll love her and cherish her and put her first. I’ll focus on making sure at least one of us is happy.
“Cole, are you here with me?” Delilah’s hands frame my face. I look down and see my cock is soft. I must’ve come while I was stuck back in the past. Jesus, did she even get off?
“Yeah, sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“Did you...umm...did you come?” I ask.
“Yeah.” She nods. “I did.” She smiles softly before she throws her legs over the side of the bed and heads into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.
I swipe my shirt up from the floor and wipe my cock clean, then push my boxers up. Throwing the soiled shirt into the hamper, I lay down in bed and press the power button on the remote. Scrolling through a few channels, I stop when I see Xander’s face on the screen. His hair is wet, most likely from his shower, and he’s in a suit, talking to the reporters about the game. A female reporter asks him something about a play, and he smirks cockily, his entire face lighting up. My stomach knots, and my heart feels like it’s being choked by a barbwire. I did this...I pushed him away. I knew he had feelings for me, and instead of dealing with them, I ran and hid. My thoughts go to my mom and everything she wanted for me. I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t break the promises I made to her just before she died.
chapter twenty
Cole
I exit the gymnasium and throw my gym bag over my shoulder. It’s been a long day and I’m ready to head home. I’m locking up when my phone dings with a text from Delilah asking if I can please bring home some sour cream.
Today was the first day of school for the both of us, as well as basketball practice for me. After an entire summer of scouring the job listings, I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to find a job. Apparently physical education is one of those positions teachers hold onto, and who could blame them? You get to spend your entire day teaching kids how to play sports. While my dream as a child was always to play ball, I knew once I tore my ACL that dream would need to be replaced with a more reachable one. You know how the saying goes, “Those who can’t do, teach.” So here I am, the new physical education teacher and head basketball coach at Worthshire High School. Since the head coach had to leave suddenly due to a family illness, I was able to take over all of his classes and the basketball team. But because he was tending to his family over the summer, he didn’t get the basketball team set up like he should’ve. Deciding it will be best to start fresh, I had the front office secretary announce that there will be basketball tryouts starting tomorrow. It’s short notice but time is limited before the basketball season begins.
After I stop at the store to pick up sour cream, I head home. As I’m pressing the up button for the elevator, my phone rings. I look to see who’s calling, and it’s Joanne.
“Hey Joanne. How are you?”
“I’m good! How was your first day of work?”
“It was good, but then again I’m teaching sports. How could it be bad?” I laugh.
“True. Well, I was wondering if you could get our girl home the weekend after next. With both of your birthdays coming up, I would love to make you guys dinner.”
“That sounds great. How about we head up Saturday morning?”
“Perfect! We’ll see you then.”
We hang up, and I enter the elevator. “Wait, please!” A woman’s voice yells, and I stick my hand out to hold the door. I look up from my phone and see it’s Summer, Delilah’s friend.
“Thank you!”
“You coming over for dinner?” I ask as the door closes.
“Yep! Delilah and I thought we’d go over some lessons together.” She gives me a warm smile.
Dinner is done, and I tell the women I’ll do the dishes so they can go work on their lessons. Delilah thanks me, and then a minute later, I hear the patio door close. The woman would live out there if she could. Hell, too many nights we’ve fallen asleep out there. After I’m done with the dishes, I jump in the shower then go over some work stuff: lessons on safety, rules for the different sports, and an activity on endurance. I come up with a good workout for the kids in my weightlifting class and figure out the drills I’m going to run with the kids trying out for the team.
When I’m done, I check to see if Delilah is still working with Summer, and when I see she is, I make my way to the living room, flipping through random channels while going through my various social media accounts on my cell phone. My finger swipes up as I scroll down briefly eyeing post after post. My finger freezes when I see a photo of Xander. His brown hair is trimmed short, and his eyes are shining bright. He’s standing on a huge yacht between two gorgeous females with his arms thrown over both of their shoulders. He’s shirtless, and both women are in tiny bikinis. But what catches my attention is the tattoo on his chest. It’s been two years since I’ve seen him without his shirt on, and back then he didn’t have a single tattoo. Over the years, I’ve gotten several. Some in memory of my parents, others to symbolize whatever I was feeling at the moment. I even have a pink ribbon to commemorate Delilah beating her breast cancer. But Xander was never into that sort of thing. Sure, he came with me to get them, but he never got one himself. He used to say he couldn’t think of anything worth putting on his body forever.
I click on the photo, and using my thumb and forefinger, I zoom in. What the fuck! Drawn on his left pec directly over his heart is a tattoo almost identical to the one I have across my chest, but it’s different. Where mine is of a ship wheel and anchor, his is of the same anchor, but instead of a ship wheel, he has a pink breast cancer awareness ribbon wrapped around the anchor with a nautical star compass. My mind goes back to the day I got my tattoo.
“Why the ship wheel and anchor?” Xander asks, checking out the finished tattoo in the center of my chest.
“When I was little, every year my parents and I would take a trip to the Florida Keys. My dad would rent a boat, and we would go out in the ocean every day. While on the trip one year, a fisherman had a similar tattoo. When I asked him what it meant, he told me the wheel symbolized the journey, and the anchor symbolized stability. I guess it just always stuck with me.”
“So something to symbolize your yearly trips with your parents,” He says, approvingly. “That’s cool, man.”
While he’s right that the tattoo definitely symbolizes my family’s yearly trips, the part I don’t tell him is that for me, the meaning runs deeper than what the fisherman said. When I lost my parents and grandma, I was scared as fuck. It felt like my ship had gone adrift—stuck in a storm with water coming in over the edges and attempting to take me under. But the moment I met Xander and Delilah, they became my compass. It was as if they guided me out of that storm and into safer waters. And once I was back to where I needed to be, they then became my anchor, keeping me grounded and safe. And I know that no matter how rough and choppy those seas become in the future, we will always face them together.
Why I didn’t tell him the entire meaning I’m not sure, but looking back I wonder if maybe it was because even back then I felt something for Xander. Something more. And I was terrified over those feeling
s.
“Is that Xander?” I jump at Delilah’s voice over my shoulder, my phone slipping from my hand and falling to the tiled floor. I pick it up and check it out, thankful it didn’t shatter.
“Yeah,” I choke out. “It was on his fan page.”
“That’s a beautiful tattoo,” is all she says before she heads down the hall.
“Where’s Summer?” I call out.
“She left a few minutes ago. You didn’t notice because your eyes were glued to your phone.”
“Joanne, as always dinner was delicious.”
“Thank you, Cole.” Joanne stands and picks up a couple dirty dishes. “After we’re done cleaning up, we’ll do cake.”
“Did you make the all-white cake with vanilla frosting?” Delilah asks as if her mom would make anything other than her only child’s favorite cake for her birthday.
“You’ll just have to wait and find out.” Joanne shoots a wink at me and grins.
Despite Joanne’s protests, we all help with the dishes, and once everything is cleaned up, her parents insist on singing Happy Birthday before we enjoy some cake.
“Delilah, sweetheart, Dr. Morton called and mentioned you haven’t been in for your yearly checkup yet,” Joanne mentions, taking a bite of her cake.
“Oh, um...” Delilah glances from her mom to me, nervously. “Yeah, I’ve just been busy with starting my new job, but I’ll make it soon. Promise.” Something sounds off with her tone. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but something isn’t right.
“Hey.” I reach around her and pull her chair close to me. “You know everything is going to be okay.”
