by Alex Rosa
His smile doesn’t falter once as he takes his long, skilled fingers to my face, trailing them down the length of my jaw. “I’m not very good at this part either, but I think there is one fundamental element to this jealousy.”
His fingertips leave a soothing tingle on my skin, allowing a small smile to peak through my lips. “What’s that?”
“Trust. Do you trust me?”
“Of course I trust you!” My body jolts at the defensive reaction.
“Skye!” he says between condescending chuckles. “I’m serious. Do you trust me?”
“No, I’m serious. I do, but what if I don’t trust other people?” I want to mention my poor track record with leggy, blond, model ex-girlfriends, or permanent stink-eyed girls named Heather, but I bite back the words.
“That’s the thing, Skyler. Those stupid girls are going to exist. If you trust me, that means you trust me to make the right decisions. I can’t imagine meeting another girl who aggravates me so much to the point of me falling in love with her, like you.”
My mouth falls slack as I watch Blake’s eyebrows rise while he finishes his jab at our (at times) antagonistic relationship.
I try to hold back my laughter. “I cannot believe you just said that! I am NOT aggravating.”
He lets out a loud string of heart-melting laughs. “Of course you are, but that’s why I love you, babe.”
“Argh! You’re obviously the more aggravating one.”
He leans over my body, bending down to place a distracting kiss on my collarbone to begin a trail of kisses down my naked body. I can still feel his smile against my skin as he speaks and moves. “I can’t argue with that.”
I sigh but find that the corners of my mouth are stretched almost painfully wide as I tangle my fingers into Blake’s hair.
He hums his approval.
“The question is . . .” he breathes out humidly against my skin. “How am I supposed to trust an innocent like you with someone like Gio?”
My body freezes.
“Skyler, I’m kidding . . . kind of,” he says as he lifts his head enough to rest his chin on my bare tummy. I find it so curious that this is his issue. It at least makes me feel a bit better about mine.
“I think I have Gio under control. He’s more a friend than anything.”
Blake’s smirk remains unmoving, but I feel his body tense.
“So, then you’re saying you are going to follow through with it?”
If this is about honesty, then I have to tell the truth.
“Yes. I’d like to try it out. Gio, as smarmy as he is, doesn’t really creep me out anymore. I guess you’ll just have to trust me, too.”
I take both hands, cupping his face resting on my belly, offering him a charmingly cheesy grin.
He grumbles but doesn’t fight it. I hate to admit, I almost want him to.
“I know you’ll be amazing.” He says, quickly springing upward to place a chaste kiss on my lips, and letting out a long exhale. “I start filming soon.”
I try everything I can not to flinch, but can’t help the smile with my own words. “I work with Gio soon, too.”
Here we go . . .
Chapter 9
Blake
In a daze, I lift my head up from the pillow. My body within a short period of time has gotten used to waking up before the alarm. As if getting up in the morning isn’t half as annoying as the sound of that damn alarm.
I blink through the sleep still in my eyes as I lift my free hand to turn off the scheduled siren with fifteen minutes to spare before hitting four a.m.
It seems unnatural to be up this early. The sun isn’t anywhere near ready to make an appearance for the day yet.
Skyler’s body stretches while resting on the pillow beside me. She stirs as if she might be toying with waking up, and all I can do is watch. Her lush lips hang partially open, and that bottom lip looks good enough to taste when matched with her trussed-up hair in black, wavy strands around her face. Her tight soccer T-shirt clings to her body and stretches across her chest. I rub at my mouth, trying to resist.
I had gotten home to find her sleeping in my bed just like this, and the idea of leaving this morning is hard to bear.
I haven’t had any substantial time with her since the start of filming weeks ago. I leave before she wakes, and come home when she’s already asleep. It’s simply not enough.
I sigh, letting my eyes meticulously drag over her body. Her nipples are hard under the thin material of her shirt, making my already-hard dick stand to further attention.
I’m torn and look at the clock again, wondering how much time I really have to spare.
I peel back the blanket a bit to further convince me, revealing half of Skyler’s bare stomach and pink lace panties.
Oh God. My teeth clamp down on my bottom lip to stifle a groan. I can’t just leave. Just a small touch, maybe even a taste . . .
I reach out to touch Skyler, brushing her hair out of her face. She doesn’t stir and it only has me wanting to touch her more.
This time, I drag my hand over her chest, lightly but heavy enough to feel her deep inhale at my touch. My dick twitches in anticipation as if to tell me Don’t let me down.
Her body is warm and inviting, and I only move my hand farther down to her stomach, basking in the feeling of her skin against mine. I suck in a breath as my hand makes it to the top of her panties.
I can’t help myself any longer, and I lean over her body, hearing the wonderful hum of her breath, which has become my own personal lullaby. The warmth that emanates from her body wraps around me like a blanket fresh from the dryer. She consumes me, calms me, and satiates me in ways no one else has, and she hasn’t even moved yet.
Seeking out some sort of taste to satisfy my state, I lean over her torso and kiss at her delicate hipbones. She stirs, and I know I should stop and let her sleep, but I can’t.
I kiss across her stomach to her other hipbone. She smells of soap and jasmine, and I can imagine her last night crawling into my bed after a steaming-hot shower.
I push her shirt farther up her body, kissing my way up, getting more careless and hungrier by the second as my hand takes a firm grip of her hip.
Her hands suddenly tangle themselves in my hair, dragging her fingernails over my scalp, and I let out a hot breath over her skin. I need her, and I need her now.
“What a wake-up call,” she hums as I lift my head from her stomach, her body firmly in my grasp.
I sheepishly grin. “I couldn’t help myself.”
She tilts her head to the side, and I could get lost in those endless ocean-blue eyes. I swear, with the darkness outside, they practically glow.
“I can see that. Now, I didn’t tell you to stop. You have to leave soon.”
God, I love this girl.
I grin wide, and continue my mission, this time shamelessly reaching for her shirt, pulling it off of her, and ready to feast on her body.
She lifts the material over her head, and quickly I bring my mouth to one breast, licking at her sensitive bud as my other hand reaches for the other one.
I missed her. I missed her taste.
She moans breathlessly into the morning.
And I missed the way she sounds.
Fuck. I’m so hard, and I can barely take it any longer.
“Blake . . .” she whines, and I almost want to tell her she has me, all of me. However, I know what that pleading tone means, and I couldn’t be happier than to cater to her.
The corner of my mouth perks up as I drag my lips back down her torso. I peer up at her. She’s watching me through hooded eyes, and her plump bottom lip juts out from her half-open mouth.
I need to taste her.
I sit up quickly, halting my path, only to lean down and press my lips to hers. I need to feel her lips on mine. I fin
ally suck on that bottom lip.
She whimpers, and it’s enough to have my dick throbbing almost painfully to be inside her. I don’t have the time to appreciate all of her, and it kills me.
“I want more,” I breathe against her lips, pressing my dick into the apex of her thighs.
She giggles against my mouth, making my body tremble at the sound. I worship this girl, and nothing makes my body sing more than hearing that wonderful laughter. How can I want one person so much and with so much heart?
“Blake, your morning requires you to choose.”
I pull away from her mouth, allowing myself to laugh, knowing what she means. “This is torture. Okay, I choose . . . you.”
Removing myself from her, I kiss back down her torso quickly, sucking briefly on her nipple before finding my destination at the top of her panties.
I nibble on the waistband, looking up at her as she squirms in knowing anticipation.
“I wouldn’t suppose you could call in sick?” she asks cutely.
Pulling down her panties with my teeth, and then finishing with my hands as I pull them completely off, I wolfishly grin. “Days into filming, I don’t think so.” I look over at the time, ready to grumble.
“Blake, wait.”
I’m baffled for a moment. My senses take in her aroused scent, driving me mad. I still manage to look up at her.
When I make eye contact with her, she looks anxious, frustrated even, and it’s hot.
She grabs for my shoulders, shocking me as she pulls me up and pushes me back onto the bed.
“You’ll get too caught up in teasing me, and you’ll be late for work.”
My dick pulses when she talks like that. I don’t know how I created such a monster, but she is surely my best insatiable creation.
I hold back a chuckle as Skyler climbs over my body.
“Fuck, Skyler, I want you so bad . . .”
I watch as her hair falls in long, thick strands over her face, her eyes glowing in the twilight of the morning. Her naked body above mine, hovering over my dick, has me losing my breath in anticipation. I want so much . . .
She opens her mouth to say something with a sexy smirk plastered on her perfect face, but no sound comes out. She’s speaking, but I can’t hear her.
Wait, is there silence, or is there a ringing? My body is squirming now, watching her lips move, but no recognizable sound emerges, and I try to get a grip on her hips, as if to somehow save the moment. The ringing goes off like a siren in my head, and instead the vision of Skyler vanishes with the realization that none of this is real, and the sound I still despise is in fact sounding off next to me.
Beep-Beep. Beep-Beep. Beep-Beep.
That should have been my first clue that I was dreaming—waking up before the alarm.
I look over to my left to see Skyler nuzzled into my arm, and her lips look as lush as they did in my dream. With that thought, I look down at my boxer briefs and I am harder than a rock.
“Fuck,” I breathe out quietly as I silence the alarm, frustrated beyond belief. I ache, my body seeking a release, but as I look over at Skyler’s peaceful look, I don’t have it in me to wake her . . . nor the time.
“Fuck-fuck!” I whisper again, and I delicately slide out of Skyler’s grasp.
I lean over the bed to grab for the blanket, bringing it up to cover the rest of her body. She barely stirs. I watch her long, deep inhale and exhale as she nuzzles into my pillow.
Chewing my lip, I know toying with time isn’t an option, and instead I lean over her body, brushing her hair away from her face, and kiss her forehead.
“Miss you, Skye, and I love you. Talk to you soon,” I whisper, and press another kiss to her face, but this time lightly to the corner of her mouth. It’s the only words I’ve managed to physically say to her in days.
I look down at my boxer briefs standing at full attention, and I know I’m going to have to fix my own fuck-stration with a cold shower before heading to the studio.
SKYLER
I blink my eyes open from sleep, concerned with the time when I can see the gray cloud coverage looming through the window on the wall above my head, the clouds most certainly covering up the sunshine that would usually wake me up on my day off.
I stretch, noting the same thing I have for weeks. No Blake.
He feels like a ghost. I know at some point he appears. I vaguely remember in my incoherent thoughts my body clinging to his as I sleep, basking in his warmth. I know those moments are real, because those are the moments I feel safest.
I dream he kisses me good night, sometimes good morning, but those memories remain my fictitious imaginings and hopeful longings. Sometimes, all I want to do is lay my eyes on him.
I hope he’s doing well. I know he is. I just can’t wait to hear more about it. He hinted on the phone two days ago that he’s excited to tell me good news, and that it has to do with the press circuit, but he acted like it involved me. I gulp at the thought, thinking having Gio’s camera on me, taking snapshots, feels like enough exposure to last me a lifetime. Is the limelight something I have to get used to, too, even if I’m just playing the part of supporting girlfriend? Yikes.
I roll over onto Blake’s side of the bed, taking a deep breath as I close my eyes.
My eyes fly open at the realization I need a hobby. I can’t sit here clutching his pillow as if he’s been gone for months. It’s barely been three weeks. Since when did I become so codependent?
I rise from bed, pulling down my T-shirt before I stretch, finally taking note of the time. Nearly noon. How the hell did I sleep so long?
I stretch to the side, thinking back on how I’ve been spending my time. It’s back to nerdy-Skyler when she isn’t so hormonally distracted.
During a time that feels eons ago I would hide away in the campus library, finding safety and productive results. At the time, I also used studying to get my mind off of troubling issues and abusive boyfriends.
Well, it’s back to the library being my second home again. On occasion, Jennifer and Vanessa will join me, but they give in like clockwork when it hits the two-hour mark, and they try to convince me to take a latte break. They’ve only managed to convince me twice; otherwise, I stay put—to their dismay.
Lately, with playing catch-up and my nose constantly stuck in a textbook while also anxiously waiting for acceptance letters into med schools, I’m overly tense, and over it—school, I mean. My test scores have risen in the past three weeks, though. I should be relieved, but really my brain feels fuller than ever, and I can’t tell if that’s a good thing.
I grumble. I know what I need to do to blow off this frustration or angst. I need to work it out of my system.
I walk out of Blake’s room, noting the fairly crisp air of the empty condo. I run upstairs, change into shorts, a tank top, and my running shoes.
I sprint to the front door, stretching my back as I approach.
When I open the door I’m struck with something I wasn’t necessarily expecting. A misty afternoon. It isn’t raining, but water lingers in the air to match the dark clouds above. The city of Los Angeles is toying with rain, but just like the people in it, the weather is fickle.
I shrug off the cold, knowing that the cool temperature will help fuel the length of my run.
I do hate the getting-wet part, and the more rational side of me says to stay inside to avoid pneumonia, but I can’t just stay inside. If I stay, I’ll only have three options to my existence: one, studying, and hell-to-the-no to touching another textbook right now. I need a break. I’ve been doing that a lot lately. Two, I could watch TV, but that sounds like a complete waste of time. Three, I could sit around and miss Blake some more, and I think I’ve done that enough.
I stick my phone in my sports bra, lock the door behind me, and run. I run slowly at first, letting my body acclimate to each stride, no
ting that although slightly foggy, it isn’t raining yet.
The surprisingly frigid air feels good against my skin as I run. The cold colliding with the heat of my body causes delightful goose bumps to rise; they intensify with each passing block, and it feels so good.
Of course, I’m running to get my mind off things, and nothing feels like a more brilliant idea than this one.
I run for a long time until my insides coil in pain, and it makes me numb to missing Blake, but more aware of my physical self.
I don’t pay much attention to my destination as I slow my strides to a street corner, thinking I must be close to downtown, and that’s far: farther than UCLA from my house, for sure.
I wrinkle my nose as the smell of cigarette smoke from the bar on the corner wafts toward me, mixing with the smell of rain. I decide I don’t like it.
I pull in a deep breath, shaking out my burning leg muscles. How long have I been running? My mind had raced to all avenues of my troubles, and I feel better about them. With each stride I can digest life at a seemingly steady pace. It’s as if when I run I can match the speed of my legs to the speed of my thoughts, and keeping an even keel helps me sort through the chaos. I feel clearheaded. I feel stable, grounded even. Running has always helped.
Water begins to drizzle from above, and the moment the drops hit my skin, I smile, lifting my chin to the sky in thanks for life’s cathartic simplicities.
Now that I’ve stopped moving, my heavy breaths catch up with me. I let the drizzle soak my shirt, and tell myself a hot shower will remedy this when I make it back home. I welcome each drop as it collides with my skin, wondering how long it will take me to get back home.
I miss my brother in that moment, realizing I have not done enough missing of him. How did life get so chaotic, and how come it took a run for me to see more clearly? It’s about time I did, though.
I breathe in one more time, leveling out, thinking it’s kinda funny I can find clarity on a rainy day.
