Curveball

by Teresa Michaels

  “Yours,” I agree and the intensity of his lapping increases, pushing me to a level of satisfaction I didn’t realize existed. What he doesn’t understand is there could never be anyone else. I clench fistfuls of his hair and scream as my body trembles. Holy shit! I had no idea sex could be this good and he hasn’t even been inside me yet.

  I need him, all of him, so badly that I’m practically begging. Either he finally understands or can’t wait anymore for his own pleasure, because he’s suddenly at his bedside table and I hear the tearing of foil. In record time he’s kneeling between my legs. He positions himself at my entrance and pauses, looking so vulnerable, yet intense. I swear he can see my soul, maybe even hear my thoughts.

  “How is it that you’ve only been a part of my life for a short time and yet I don’t know what I’d do without you?” he asks. “I need you.”

  “Then stop making me wait,” I reply.

  He smiles and finally grants me my wish, slowly easing inside me and filling me completely. Drew groans as our bodies become one, and I gasp from momentary pain followed by utter pleasure.

  If he can hear my thoughts then he knows that I’m in a total state of nirvana. This is perfect. He is perfect. It’s like our bodies were made for each other. We are so in synch that once we really begin moving together it’s not long before I’m over stimulated and completely shatter. Drew’s body responds to mine. He groans something as he finds his release but the sensation of our combined climax is so overwhelming I can’t understand him. It doesn’t matter though; just the sound of his voice is enough to make me want more and I cry his name.

  As I try to catch my breath, Drew pushes up on his elbows and gazes down at me. He takes my hand and places it over his heart.

  “All yours,” he says.

  Damn, he’s good. If I didn’t know better I’d swear he meant it.

  “Dinner’s ready,” Drew whispers in my ear.

  I roll into him and find that he’s fully clothed. “Dinner?” I question as I stretch.

  “I tried to wake you but you were spent. I didn’t want to get up either but I was starving,” he kisses my neck and clarifies, “for food.”

  I laugh and look up at him. God, he is so sexy.

  “I had no idea you’d work me so hard, so many times,” he says appreciatively.

  “I didn’t know it was possible to feel this good,” I tell him. “I needed that.”

  “I’ve needed you,” he replies. He rolls on top of me and caresses my nose with his. “I meant what I said.” He kisses me deeply before he pushes off the bed. “Get dressed and come down for dinner. Oh, and thanks for the chocolate milk.”

  Distracted by his delicious lips it takes his absence for his words to sink in. I meant what I said. What the hell did I miss?

  I grab my clothes and head into the bathroom to freshen up. On my way out I notice a bookcase that holds shelves of sports books and is also lined with several pictures. I turn the bathroom light back on to get a better look.

  “Hey,” Drew calls from the doorway. “The foods getting cold.”

  “Sorry, I was just admiring your photos,” I tell him. “And I thought you didn’t cook.”

  “I don’t, that’s why it’s probably better if we eat it hot.”

  He turns on the bedroom light and then comes and stands behind me, wrapping his arms around me and resting his chin on my shoulder. It’s as if holding me is second nature to him. “I think you know about all of them,” he tells me, referring to the pictures.

  I take in each one and realize it’s true. There is a picture of him and his sister when they were younger hanging outside of a barn window. In another picture he is either building something, or taking something apart with his dad – it’s hard to tell, but they both look happy. There is also a picture with his parents at a game. This must be the only one they went to. The thought of Drew essentially being on his own saddens me.

  “There’re beautiful,” I tell him. “I’m sure they’ve served you well as conversation starters in getting women up to your room,” I tease, glancing at him over my shoulder.

  He straightens up and turns me around to face him. “I’ve never brought anyone up here. You’re the only person besides Brett, my physical therapist and my parents who’s even been to my place.” His tone is serious and he looks almost wounded.

  I suddenly regret my fresh comment and warm to the idea of no one else being in his bed. Well, at least this bed. This somehow makes me think of Amber all over him at the police station and I feel agitated. Am I jealous? My hand rises to my neck and I realize I don’t have my necklace. I only got it back a few days ago and feel incredibly uneasy without it now.

  “Shit!”

  “What’s wrong?” Drew asks, concerned.

  “My necklace. I know I had it on,” I tell him.

  “Don’t get worked up, we’ll find it,” he says reassuringly.

  Drew heads into the bathroom and I walk over to the bed. I pull the comforter back and search the sheets but find nothing. I toss them back and climb onto the bed to look under the pillows and am elated when I find it.

  “Found it!” I exclaim.

  Kneeling at the top of the bed, I fasten the latch and pull it to make sure it’s secure. As I’m climbing off the bed I notice a single picture frame on Drew’s bedside table. It’s an elegant 3X5 turquois, silver and hazel mosaic frame. I lean forward and pick it up to get a better look. I’m speechless. The picture is a still shot from the video Drew and I made that led to our rescue. I’ve seen the picture before; it’s been in every major newspaper and online for weeks. We both look like hell. We had been through hell.

  “Why do you have this here?” I ask intrigued not only by the picture, but by it’s location. If it had been with the other photos on his bookshelf it would make more sense. But for some reason, the placement next to his bed seems so intimate.

  Drew takes the picture out of my hand and studies it. “I’ve been lucky enough to see you every day since I’ve met you. We may have only spent two nights together, but ever since we got back I can’t stand being without you when I sleep. I guess this makes me feel like you’re here,” he says, and places the picture frame back on the table.

  He lifts my left hand to his mouth and kisses it sweetly. The idea of him wanting me in his bed as he falls asleep warms my heart and just about every other part of my body.

  Drew pauses a moment while he lowers my hand. He stares at my wedding ring and rolls it between his fingers and frowns. I can’t tell if he’s angry or sad but the warm, carefree atmosphere has disintegrated and has been replaced by tension. I pull my hand back quickly and stare at my ring momentarily before shoving it in my back pocket, feeling incredibly guilty all of a sudden. Mark has only been gone for two years. Christ, the FBI is talking about having his body exhumed and the kids and I just had a dinner to celebrate his life a few weeks ago. But here I am, sleeping with someone else. No, not just sleeping with someone – falling for someone. Only, he’s not just someone. He’s become my closest friend and I’ve clearly crossed a line. It’s also pretty clear that I underestimated what I mean to him, though it’s still not clear what either of us want. This is like the night in the barn all over again, only worse.

  “Breanne?” Drew sounds concerned and I can’t bring myself to look at him. I feel like I’ve cheated on Mark’s ghost. How selfish am I?

  I stare at the ground and a tear falls down my cheek. My chest feels heavy and my throat is closed off. I imagine this is what it feels like to be suffocated. I am an idiot for not thinking this through. I can’t deny that I was hoping this would happen between us tonight. I’ve thought about it often. He doesn’t commit and a relationship is not an option for me anyway. You’d think it was a perfect situation. But I am falling for him and I let myself get carried away, knowing it won’t work. He’s seven years younger than me. He’s insanely attractive and a professional athlete who lives in the public eye. So, what am I doing? I can’t do this. I can
’t sleep with him and act like we’re only friends, knowing we can’t be more. Even if we tried and he wanted to, it won’t last and I’m not ready to be with him or lose him. I can’t just push the memory of Mark aside. And Drew, he’s only feeling this way because of what we’ve been through. He’ll lose interest and then where will I be? Where will my kids be? Shit. This is so messed up!

  “Hey, come back to me,” Drew wipes my tear and tips my chin up. “Look, I didn’t mean anything by that. It’s fine. I get it.”

  I’m glad one of us does. He may say that he understands why I still wear my ring but it obviously bothers him. How could it not? The woman he’s sleeping with is wearing another man’s wedding ring. It should have bothered me before now. How do I explain this? I promised him that I wouldn’t regret what happened. Do I regret it? I don’t know. This is too much. I have to get out of here. I can’t think with him around.

  “Breanne, what’s wrong?” he asks, his concern growing.

  “I should go,” I tell him.

  “What? No!” He looks at me confused. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “I. We. I should have stopped. I’m not ready.”

  “Don’t. Look, I know I just ruined the moment. But don’t,” he steps towards me and I take a step back.

  “I don’t want to lose your friendship. And I,” I trail off not sure what I want to say.

  “Friendship? You still think this is just friendship?” he sputters in disbelief. “I thought I’d made my feelings pretty clear.”

  “You and I are at completely different places in our lives. You. You’re young and have a promising career. You can still meet someone and have a family. And I. I can’t give you that.”

  “What? Where is all of this coming from?” he asks. “Breanne, look at me. Look at me!” he demands.

  When I do the tears come faster. With his frown marring his mouth and eyebrows I can tell he’s devastated. Something else I can feel guilty for.

  “I have to think about my kids. After everything that’s happened I can’t start a relationship – especially one that would be so public! God, there’s already been enough about us in the papers. And I can’t just push Mark’s memory out and replace it with new ones of you. I can’t do that to them! They are my priority.”

  “I know they are and I wouldn’t expect anything else. I haven’t asked for anything and I’d never try to replace their father. All I want is you.”

  “I’m not going to get sucked in and…I have to think of them,” I glance at the door and try to determine if I’ll be able to get through it before he tries to stop me.

  “You’re making excuses because you’re scared. I know you have feelings for me, Breanne,” he fists his hands in his hair and paces around the room. “For fucks sake, can’t you see that you mean the world to me and that includes your kids? They’re a part of you. How could I not love them too?”

  Love them too?

  “Yeah, and what about when things don’t work out? What then? We’ve already lost enough.”

  “Why are you so convinced that it won’t work out?” he walks back to where I stand.

  “I saw how Amber threw herself at you. I can only image how many women do the same when you’re traveling. You told me how you’ve been with other women. I don’t want to end up like one of them.”

  “There is nothing between me and Amber or anyone else. I only want you! Did you not hear what I said earlier? I LOVE YOU!” he shouts.

  “Don’t say that,” I tell him. Shit. I did not see that coming.

  “Why?” he asks, getting in my face. “So you can pretend that you don’t feel the same?”

  “I’m leaving,” I tell him and walk into the hallway and then bolt down the stairs. I get to the kitchen and grab my purse. I have no idea where my coat is so I decide to leave it. I head to the door and open it an inch before Drew slams it shut.

  “Stay,” he pleads. “Talk to me, Breanne. We can figure this out. We’ll slow down. Just give us a chance.”

  “I can’t. I can’t do this.”

  “Now, or ever?” he asks.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Drew sighs and presses back from the door. I exit his place as quickly as possible and run to the car, knowing the security detail will make it possible for a fast getaway. As I run down the sidewalk I hear a loud growl followed by shattering glass.

  I jump in the car. “Take me home.”

  Three days ago I fled Drew’s house, breaking his heart and mine. I feel like shit for how I left him, but it doesn’t change anything.

  The following day I received a bouquet of autumn flowers, a CD and a note. The note read, “I can be that guy.” It was a reference to the only song on the CD, ‘Not A Bad Thing’ by Justin Timberlake. Since I’ve only recently gotten up to speed on music it wasn’t surprising that I hadn’t heard the song before. Though, once I listened I wasn’t able to stop. It’s a beautiful song about a guy pleading with a girl to give him a chance…to allow herself to fall in love with him and let him help heal her. It couldn’t have been more fitting if he’d written it himself.

  I wanted to call him. I wanted to tell him that I’d give us a chance. I wanted to but I couldn’t. I gave my heart to Mark years ago and he took it with him to the grave. I will never love anyone else. At least this is what I tell myself every time I find myself thinking about Drew.

  Two days after I left Drew I woke up restless and decided to go for a run to clear my head. I hadn’t realized that at least one of the agents in my security detail would insist on coming with me. Even though it slightly pissed me off that I couldn’t be alone, it ended up helping. He trailed behind me and the feeling of being chased increased my speed to the point where I had the best run of my life. By the time we rounded the corner near my house we had gone nearly three miles, which is pretty good for me. My legs were cramping and my chest burned. I slowed my pace to a walk and envisioned the warm bath that I’d take as soon as I could make it inside my house. Unfortunately, the bath had to wait. The sight of Drew waiting on the front stoop with his head resting in his hands in the early morning hours spiked my adrenaline and in seconds I was running in the other direction. I ran three more miles and snuck in the back door when I returned and he still hadn’t left.

  A few hours later my father handed me a care package that had been delivered while I showered. The note read ‘Seems like you’ve taken up a new hobby. I hope you’ll wear these to run back to me. I love you’. The box contained a brand new pair of turquois running shoes in my size. Not only had he remembered me telling him that I needed a new pair of shoes during our first night together in the tree house, he clearly knew I purposely avoided him. He was killing me with kindness. As if this wasn’t enough to shatter my world, thirty minutes later my father informed me that he had to return to London the next evening.

  As I stand next to my father at the ticket counter of Logan Airport I watch other passengers say goodbye to their loved ones and hate that I have to do the same. I had hoped I wouldn’t have to return to this place quite so soon, but here I am. Once he leaves I’ll be on my own to deal with all of this and I can’t bear it. I’m holding it together for his sake, and only by a thread. He has no reason to feel guilty though I can see it on his face. The last thing I want is for him to hold up his life to help me get through mine. My biggest fear right now is not being alone, or even my father getting on a plane. It’s not having a distraction from Drew and failing as a parent because of it.

  “I’ll call you as soon as I land,” he assures me during our walk past the long security line. Thanks to the connections we have my father has been granted a reprieve from waiting and is ushered through a private door where we are able to say goodbye without spectators.

  “I wish you’d move back here, Dad,” I tell him, swallowing my sadness. “It’s not like you need to work.”