by Vera Roberts
“What slice is that?” He pointed at her.
“Slice two,” she nodded, “hey, I only had one last night.”
“That’s not my fault,” Dean began doing pushups, “you wanted to drink more than eat.”
“I wasn’t driving,” she defended, “and it’s been a while since we’ve gotten drunk together so I wanted to take advantage of it.”
“Before you slept in the guest room,” He pointed out.
As the couple tried to repair their relationship, they made solid boundaries. They would spend the night with each other, as long as the other slept in the other room. Neither wanted to admit the arrangement was booty but it was something they both agreed to. “Before I slept in the guest room,” she replied.
“Actually, come here,” Dean motioned, “I could use some weight resistance.”
“Um, fuck you.” Sydney scoffed.
“I didn’t call you fat,” he defended, “now sit on me.”
Sydney cocked her head and smiled. “Really?”
“On. My. Back.” Dean emphasized as Sydney planted herself on his back. “Though, I wouldn’t mind if you sat on other places.”
“Okay, why is it sexy when you said it but dirty when I did?” She asked.
“Because I got it like that,” Dean chuckled, “Are you ready?”
Sydney steadied herself. “I’m ready.”
“Hold on,” Dean began to do pushups with Sydney on his back. “There we go. That’s the resistance I needed.”
“Wouldn’t be better if I laid on top of you?” She asked.
“Sure, let’s try that,” Dean waited in the plank position as Sydney laid parallel on his back. He began to do pushups again. “This is better.”
Sydney took a swift inhale of Dean’s scent. It was a mixture of sweat, musk, and sex. How could a man, in a process of a grueling workout, turn her on like there was no tomorrow? Every grunt Dean made reminded Sydney how he would grunt in her ear as he was on top of her or behind her.
We’re taking it slow.
She had to remind herself of the fact. They agreed they moved too fast and they needed to slow down everything. Sex always complicated things and it was best to keep everything as chaste as possible.
Even Sydney knew that was crap.
As she pressed her body into Dean’s, all she wanted, all she could think of, was how amazing he felt when he was on top of her back in Vegas. Sure, they dry-humped like two horny teenagers getting it on before their parents came home. When they slept that night, their clothes were fully on as Dean wrapped an arm around Sydney’s waist.
Taking it slow was admirable for certain couples and situations, Sydney admitted. One of her other close friends, Jane, waited until marriage to gift her virginity to her husband. Sydney thought that was so beautiful and sweet. Sydney also knew that was not her.
“Babe, do you have good concentration?”
“I say my concentration is better than good,” Dean slowly lowered himself back onto the floor. He heavily breathed as he took an inhale of Sydney’s pizza breath. He normally would’ve been annoyed but it took the focus away from her breasts pressed against his back. He felt himself harden and decided to end the workout before it got to the point of no return.
“Good,” Sydney wrapped her hands around his chest and pinched his nipples, “honk, honk!”
“And what the?” Dean fell to the floor as Sydney laughed. “Yo, that’s not cool!”
“But did you die?” Sydney giggled as she rolled over.
Dean rolled on top of Sydney and relentlessly tickled her. “Uncle! Uncle!” She screamed.
“I’m done,” Dean laid beside her.
“That was fun!” Sydney smiled.
Dean glanced over at her and saw how she was covered a little with his sweat. Suddenly all he wanted was to bathe her dry with his tongue. His emotions were all over the place and he decided to take a drink of water to calm them down. “It was, wasn’t it?”
“Maybe I should start working out with you,” she stood up and wiped the sweat off a little, “I’m getting a bit fat.” She patted her stomach.
Dean’s eyes traveled down to Sydney’s toned waist. Despite her junk food consumption, she was equally dedicated to working out. The only fat she had on her was her behind and he particularly loved the way it jiggled. “You’re not getting fat,” he countered, “you’re absolutely perfect.” He took a swig of water.
Sydney stared at Dean for a long while before she spoke again. “You know my womb is open, right?”
Dean chuckled. “We’re taking it slow, Syd. We both agreed on this.”
“Yeah, yeah, we’re taking it slow.” Sydney went back to her pizza, “I’m going to be 90 and rocking a cane before we make a move.”
“Not 90,” he followed her and took a bite of her pizza slice, “maybe until we’re comfortable.”
“And when will that be?” She asked. “It seems like I’m waiting for you and not vice-versa.”
“We need to rebuild trust in each other again,” he swallowed, “and that might take some time.”
Sydney broke Dean’s trust and she wondered if she would ever get it back. She briefly wondered if she was just wasting her time until he found someone else or went back to Rebecca for good. “I really messed up, didn’t I?” She frowned.
Dean looked at his girlfriend. She admitted her fault but he also knew his indiscretion was just as bad, if not worse. He still didn’t have the gall to tell her and time was slowly running out. “No, you didn’t. You were weak, and needed comfort in a way I couldn’t provide because I was a dick.” He pulled her close to him. “I’m not going to hold this against you forever and I don’t want to. But I also don’t want us to make the same mistakes again.”
Sydney gave a half-grin. “You always say the right things.”
Dean shrugged. “I told you before – years of being stupid taught me to be wise.” He took another swig of water. “Do you have any plans for tonight?”
“Just me and art as usual,” she replied, “why? What’s up?”
“I was thinking if you wanted to go burn some of those calories from all the pizza you stole from me.”
“Wow, so now I stole your pizza?” She smirked. “Last time I checked, you gave it to me.”
Give it to me, baby…Dean could still remember her moans in his ear and blinked away the sounds. “I still think you’re perfect but since you think you’re putting on weight, I have an idea on how we can burn it off.”
“All right, I’m game,” Sydney folded her arms, “what are we doing?”
“It’s a surprise,” he replied, “but dress comfortably.”
“Hmm…” Sydney’s mouth twisted upward. “…that tells me it’s going to suck.”
~~~~~
“I should’ve known,” Sydney put on the last roller skate and struggled to tie it, “I knew you were going to have me fall on my ass in a public setting once again.”
“I got you, babe,” Dean kneeled down and helped Sydney tie her roller skate. “Are you sure it’s nice and tight?”
Sydney softly blinked at her boyfriend. “I don’t know. You tell me. Is it?”
Dean caught the smoldering look in Sydney’s eyes and grinned. Their sexual banter was always playful with the right amount of spice to it. Nothing was ever taboo for them, no matter where they were. “Are we still talking about roller skates?”
“No,” Sydney shook her head, “but yes, my shoes are nice and tight.”
Dean held out his hand and Sydney grabbed onto it as she struggled to maintain her balance. Her legs felt wobbly and weak, and Sydney was scared to death someone with a great angle in their camera phone was going to upload her infamy for the rest of the world to see.
Dean wrapped his arms around her as he led them around the rink. Disco music played in the background as other skaters zoomed past them. Sydney was amazed that a toddler, no more than five, skated past her with no difficulty.
“Okay, this is embarra
ssing,” she whispered, “a little kid can kick my ass at rollerskating.”
Dean chuckled as he held onto his love. “I’ll teach our kids how to skate, don’t worry.”
Sydney relished in the comfort of his arms. Going platonic and waiting to consummate the relationship seemed to be working in their favor. She felt closer to Dean than ever before. “Our kids not named Bobby or Betty?”
“Where in the hell did you come up with those names?” Dean glanced at her. “Just…no.”
“I thought about their full names – Robert and Elizabeth. I thought those names go with Winchester.”
“Those names do go with Winchester just fine,” Dean replied as they continued to skate, “just not Betty and Bobby.”
“What other names do you like, then?” Sydney asked. “I mean, when we get to that point.”
“I don’t know,” he shrugged. Dean never thought about names for their future children. He always hoped they were a perfect combination of he and Sydney. “Something strong and masculine.”
“Like Abel?”
“Not necessarily Biblical but hey, if that’s what you like?”
“I liked Bobby and Betty but you said noooooooo….” She teased.
Dean skated in front of Sydney and grabbed onto her arms as her eyes filled with worry. “Don’t worry, I got you, babe. I got you.”
“This is scary, Dean,” Sydney looked around her and felt her stomach churn in knots as everyone skated past them again. “I’m afraid I’m going to fall.”
“And you might,” he replied, “but when you fall, you get up and try again.”
“Like Aaliyah!” Sydney’s eyes sparkled.
“Okay, I wasn’t thinking Aaliyah but she’s a good example,” he added, “you’re going to have a crazy next few weeks and we need you to be focused on your show, honey. Everything else is just small apples.”
“And what about you?” She sincerely asked. “You have a new season and there’s a target on your back.”
“There’s always a target on my back,” he rolled his eyes, “people don’t know if they love me or hate me.”
It was true. The criticism Dean’d received was just as loud as his praise. “How do you handle it?” She asked. “The pressure must be monstrous.”
“It is and I usually silence everyone and everything. You have many people pulling you in different directions and it’s hard to keep up.” Dean thought about his upcoming deal with Nike. “I need to have a lion mind.”
“Lion mind? What’s that?”
“It’s when you focus on the goal directly in front of you and not be distracted by everything else around you.” He replied. “Not everyone has it. The truly successful ones have it and you can always point them out.”
“A lion mind, huh?” Sydney nodded. “I like that. I need to have a lion mind.”
“You already have one, honey,” he mentioned, “I’ve never seen anyone so focused on her art and goals like you are. You inspire me every day.”
Sydney chewed her lips and blinked back tears. “I’m nothing. I’m nobody.”
“Hey,” Dean slowed to a stop and Sydney crashed into him. “You’re everything and you’re somebody to me.”
Sydney looked up at her boyfriend. His light green eyes sparkled with love and desire, while the dimples in his chees formed from the smile on his face. “You did that intentionally so I would bump into you,” she whispered.
Dean cupped Sydney’s face and softly kissed her lips. He gently sucked on her bottom one before moving his tongue inside. She tasted like coffee and cinnamon. He briefly pulled away before he spoke. “I’ll do anything to kiss you.”
Six
“Now this…this right here…this is King Jeffrey.”
Sydney glanced up at the monstrous toy stuffed giraffe. “You big.”
Demand of Sydney’s work generated buzz throughout L.A. because of her preview and she scored her first high-profile client – Major League Baseball’s pitcher king, Quinn “The Answer” Riordan.
Quinn was an enigma of sorts. He came from the armpit of Kentucky where all he knew were ranches and cows. He gained his muscular physique by being a farmhand and thought gyms were a waste of money. He saw no issue drinking a protein shake as he snacked on McDonald’s fries. He would head-bang to Metallica before he serenaded a sweet song by the Backstreet Boys a minute later and ending his set by spitting bars from his favorite Drake album.
And then there were his quirks. He loved Legos so much, he had an entire room in his palatial estate just for them. His obsession with giraffes carried through to adulthood and while he didn’t want to own one, he made it a point to visit the zoo on a bi-weekly basis to look at them in person. His Instagram feed was full of him cheesing next to giraffes at various zoos all over the world.
On the diamond, however, Quinn was a beast. His 24-year-old arm didn’t show signs of slowing down anytime soon as he averaged 90 mph. No batter could ever prepare for him and he was notorious to switch it up and create new pitches just to psyche out his opponents.
He was called “The Answer” due to a now-infamous interview response:
“When the batter steps up to that plate, they ask me a question. They never mouth it, they never actually say it, but they do suggestive things like point their bat to the sky behind me, or give me a wink. You know what that question is? Do you think you’re going to strike me out? And of course, I always give them a deafening answer.”
And he was Sydney’s new client.
Word-of-mouth quickly spread about Sydney’s art show and Sydney scored a major contract with Quinn. At first, Sydney thought it was a prank caller because the voice on the other end was so masculine and authoritative, a stark contrast to his Instagram feed where he was cheesing like a boy on Christmas morning in every picture.
In Quinn’s world, every day was Christmas morning.
“This is so…” Sydney struggled to say the right words. She didn’t want to come off as a pompous bitch. “…neat.”
“It’s okay, Syd,” Quinn chuckled, “I know it’s weird. You can actually say the word.”
Sydney gave a sheepish smile. “I’m trying to process the guy on the baseball diamond with the man next to me.”
“Ah, that’s the magic!” Quinn continued walking and Sydney followed. “You never want your opponents to think they know you. You always have to switch it up somehow. The moment they know you, is the moment they start messing with you.”
“You’re pretty wise for your age,” she noted.
Quinn led Sydney downstairs to his spacious back yard with pool, waterfall, a sitting area around a fire pit, bar and grill, and an additional dining area. For a man who had a room dedicated to a giant stuffed toy giraffe, it was a rather luxurious sight. “You know what it’s like to get everything you want after dreaming about it for so long?”
Sydney knew all too well. “Tell me about it.”
“This…” Quinn looked out into the bright California sun. “…this is heaven on earth. The beauty, the magic of it all. I just finished reading The Art of War and while it’s complicated at times, it’s pretty good. I highly recommend you check it out.”
Sydney’s eyes almost crossed each other in bewilderment. Quinn, who just demonstrated how he plays with his Legos with personal sound effects, just finished a complicated book? Now she understood why his opponents couldn’t figure him out. He was simply inexplicable to the normal brain.
Yet, she somehow understood him. Every genius needed an outlet. “What do you have in mind for your mural?”
“Me,” he turned to her. His blue eyes danced with delight. “Not a portrait but something that represents me. I want to see it and be amazed by the brilliance of it. I want others to be in shock and awe by it. I want it where if I’m 50 years old, and retired, it’ll stand the test of time. I don’t want it to be something I was into at one point, you know what I mean? I want something that represents me – period.”
Sydney slowly nodded. “I
think I have a few ideas. I might need to see you more in action to get to know you better.”
“Like a shadow?” He asked.
“Yes,” she agreed, “I’ll be silent and whatever you don’t want me to see, I won’t. But if you want a piece about you, I need to get to know the man behind the diamond.”
“I like that!” He pointed to her. “And maybe you can meet my friend, Bobbi.”
“Bobbi?” Sydney asked. “Who’s he?”
“She,” Quinn corrected, “she’s a special friend of mine.”
“Ohhhhh,” Sydney smiled and chuckled as Quinn blushed. “Is she your girlfriend?”
“She’s a friend,” he corrected, “a really special friend.”
“Sounds like a girlfriend,” Sydney prodded.
“It’s…” He slightly grimaced and held up a couple of hands. “…it’s complicated.”
“You men love to say that,” Sydney shook her head. “It’s not complicated if the feeling is mutual.”
“She doesn’t want to be known as my girlfriend. She doesn’t want the extra attention.” Quinn stared out into the Los Angeles air. “She knows when people do a search for me, one of the things they want to know is who I’m dating. She doesn’t want to be plastered all over the web with people saying hateful things. She’s a physical therapist, not an Instagram model.”
Sydney could definitely relate. While she was making a name for herself in her own right, a large portion of the world simply knew her as Dean’s fiancée. “I know how that feels.”
“Maybe you could talk to her?” Quinn asked. “She’ll love to hear it from you! I’m sure you get it a lot by being with Dean.”
You got that right. “I’ll talk to her.” She smiled. “So,” Sydney looked around, “where is this mural going to be?”
“Oh, over here.” Quinn walked back inside his home and showed Sydney an enormous blank wall. “This is your canvas.”
Sydney’s eyes widened as she began to imagine everything she could create. The best gift anyone could give to an artist was a blank canvas and imagination. She walked over to the wall and touched the smooth, white paint. She closed her eyes and pressed her head against the cold surface.
