by Cassie Mae
“I didn’t say that.” He takes a puff, then exhales into the wind. I get the distinct smell of burnt strawberries wafting around me, so I stuff my face into the red scarf around my neck.
“Hey,” he says, “by all means, chase after them.” He waves his hand at the corner he indicated before. “But just because I’m throwing in the towel doesn’t mean I don’t love her. Just the opposite, actually. See, there’s this thing called history. I’ve got it with her, and it’s living rent-free in her head. I can see it in her eyes when I’m with her, and I don’t care who she’s with or what she plans on doing or why she’s so determined to run from it. I know fate will find a way to turn things around.”
My nose wrinkles at the word. I despise fate right now. If it was on my side, tonight wouldn’t be…this. If I hadn’t pulled the tablecloth or thrown a basketball, fate would’ve given me a concentrated shot of painful jealousy straight to the heart. No, fate is my enemy.
I tuck my coat around me, tie my scarf, and give Jackson a final nod. “I hope you get her,” I tell him.
“Yeah. Me too.”
Then I spin on my heel and will my feet to catch up with Alec before my brain talks me out of it.
—
Alec’s laughing again. I think that’s worse than the almost kissing. Laughing is joy and fun and all things good in this world and I want to hate Rian for making him laugh, but I also am happy that he’s laughing. It’s a weird jumble of emotions running through me as I watch from across the busy street next to a pile of snow that’s been shoveled from the walks.
They’re in Times Square, Alec’s favorite place in the entire world. She’s leaning against him, and his arms are around her small fame, rocking her to a song he’s most likely humming in her ear. I thought I’d felt pain before. I’ve broken two bones, I’ve had my appendix burst, I’ve tripped and slipped and bled and bruised, and I’d willingly experience all of that again just to take my mind off the piercing stabs of heartache I’m experiencing now.
It could be anything that’s making him laugh and smile like this, though. It could be Times Square itself. It could be the spirit of Valentine’s Day. Or maybe he’s realized that holding Rian feels so so wrong and he wants to hold me again, and this time he’s going to say he means it. He’s still in love and he’ll spot me here across the street and we’ll run toward each other in slow motion.
Yes, he’s in love with me. That’s what’s going on, I’m sure of it! I take a determined step forward only to get sideswiped by a passerby, toppling me right into the pile of snow.
Oh sweet merciful heavens, I’m a class-A lunatic. The man I love is having a good time, and what have I done? I threw a basketball at his face! I’ve lost control over my mind and body and I need to think straight for a second. I need a sobering, sensible thought.
I take a look at the snow pile and suddenly jam my hands into it, letting the cold shock my skin into reacting the way it should. I shove a fistful into my face, make a snowball and stuff it down my dress. I cover myself in the cold, cold snow until my skin is red and burning and my mind is free of all types of debauchery.
“Uh…are you all right?” a stranger with bright white teeth asks as he walks by. I nod and say something that doesn’t make sense, but it convinces him to leave the strange woman alone with her snow. I glance over my shoulder to get one last look at Alec, half hoping that the sight of him will bring back just enough insanity for me to make this night what it was meant to be, but he’s gone. I have no idea what direction they went, and I make my way across the street to see if I can spot them.
All I see are lovers, holding hands and exchanging sweet kisses and putting roses in their hair and sharing chocolates. I remind myself to grab a box of assorted chocolates to keep me company when I get home.
Blond hair catches my eye, and I know his gait. I see him through the crowd, though Rian is hidden because of her height. It’s easier to see him this way, seemingly alone. I could run, push my way through, grab his arm, and spit out everything I’ve been holding in for this night.
I could…but at the same time, I can’t. What if Jackson’s right? What if fate had a way of turning things around because we aren’t meant to be? He’s no longer in love, and our night together was just that. He didn’t even say anything about the tattoo—whether he saw it, whether he knew what it truly meant.
I put a hand on my hip, over the satin of my dress. Three weeks ago his hand was gripping me here, running all over my body. He had to have seen it—the ink I’d permanently etched into my skin for him…for me. I’d been thinking that maybe he didn’t see it because the room was dark, because his eyes never left mine while we shared ourselves with each other. But maybe he did see it. Maybe he left me alone the next morning because he got over me a long time ago. Maybe he thought that night together didn’t mean anything to me, so he made sure it didn’t mean anything to him.
My mouth goes dry and I try to swallow, but can’t. I pull my hand away from my hip and twist it up in my scarf. The fabric drags down my neck, exposing my skin to the chilled air. I tuck it in my pocket as I watch his blond head get farther and farther away until I can no longer see it.
Fate has won tonight.
THREE WEEKS, TWO DAYS AGO: 1:09 A.M.
I run a hand over my hip, the skin finally healed enough that I don’t flinch every time I touch it. My first tattoo—I’m a rare breed, I know. But I’ve always been the indecisive type, so I never got one before because I knew I’d just want something else in its place two days later. But this one will stick, and not just because it has to now.
With one giant breath I release the thin black fabric of my shirt and let it fall over the ink, hiding it until I’m ready for him to see. I sit up on the bed in Alec’s spare bedroom, too wired to sleep now. I was dozing on his couch not two hours ago and he teased me until I crawled in here. The second I saw the hall light turn off I’ve been contemplating getting up and joining him. I’ve spent a good hour with my internal debate team.
Alec’s room is a mystery to me. For all the hours he’s spent at my place, in my room, one would think he’d be comfortable with reciprocating the access. Yet whenever I’m over, he steers me toward the second bedroom if I needed to crash or change, just the way he did tonight. His own door is always closed, and I tease him on having a weird fetish. He admits to nothing, and blocks me every time I try to go in there. At some point the game became more fun than the actual idea of entering the mystery room. The moments when I got so close that he had to lock his arms around my waist and swing me in the other direction became what I was really after. He has such great arms, such a great laugh.
My toes barely tap the carpet as I creep to that door I’ve never been through, knowing that most of the mystery will still remain, since it’s past sunset and I can barely see five feet in front of me.
I pause at the doorknob. I wonder how it’s going to smell, if there are posters adorning the walls. Is he as messy as I am, as neat as he is everywhere else in his place, or somewhere in the middle? I wonder how he sleeps in his bed—if he’s all over the place or stationary all night long.
I let out a small breath of relief when his door opens soundlessly. The sweet and comforting scent I’m so familiar with wafts through the air in one large, concentrated dose, rocking me on my already unsteady bare feet.
He’s snoring.
He snores?
I didn’t know he was a snorer. Every time we’ve fallen asleep, I always went out first. He was the one to stay up and watch me doze off into dreamland. It seems unfair all of a sudden—that he got to see me at my most vulnerable when I never took the opportunity to see him. I can’t help but sneak forward, suppressing an amused grin at the nasal noises.
A slight breeze hits me, and I let my gaze drift from the lump in the bed to the open window, the curtains that frame it blowing slightly with the night air. Guilt gives me a subtle kick in the ribs as I remember what he said: I can’t sleep without a fan. He let me
borrow that fan last week, and I’m horrible when it comes to remembering to return things.
I watch the blue curtains flap against the wall. “I’m bringing it back tomorrow,” I quietly promise.
Suddenly a snort comes from the bed.
Making myself as small as possible, I creep to the bottom of the bed, taking steady breaths, begging my heart rate to calm. It’s Alec. Just a friend. We’ve established that plenty of times. He knows about Eli and how much it hurts to go over the line of friendship and into something more. But when I push my knee into the mattress, letting my weight settle into the bed and ruffle the comforter, I feel the line slowly start to fade. I’m not sure what the line is; I’m not even sure if there is a line anymore.
Alec’s snores soften, like he knows I’m here right beside him inhaling his scent, reveling in the fact that I’m not alone, he’s not alone—we have each other, and it’s okay to have each other. His body stretches, and I dodge his arm as it comes up over his head. He rubs one sleepy eye before popping it open. When he comprehends that I’m sitting in front of him, his other eye shoots open and he sits up with a gasp.
“Jesus,” he says, his voice gravelly with sleep and surprise.
I quietly chuckle. “No, just me.”
He manages to give me a sleepy laugh, then uses his fists to push himself up and leans against the headboard. “Everything okay?”
The small smile on my lips drifts off into the moonlight. Okay. Everything is always okay. It’s rarely wonderful or fabulous or amazing, and I know it’s because I’ve held myself back from feeling all of those things. I faked it—faked it hard, even with Eli. And in this moment I know what I want to say: Everything’s okay…and that’s the problem. I want more than okay. I want to dive into a relationship. I want to feel. I want to love. I want it, and I’m terrified of it. Because I thought I had it, and I lost so much time with you. We could’ve already had it all if I hadn’t forced you to wait for it.
I could say it out loud, but I don’t. My eyes fall to his lips, the lips that told me they loved me so long ago, and I wonder if they still do.
I lean up on my knees, holding my breath as I watch Alec’s own breathing hitch. His eyes remain fixed on mine, his Adam’s apple bobbing when my left leg slides up in between his. The line we’ve drawn between us seems like a distant memory when my hands find the back of his head, fingers tangling in the dirty-blond strands. The comforter pulls under my knees as he fists the fabric. He’s trying to keep his hands off me, and the thrill of having such a strong effect on him lights my entire body on fire.
My breath comes out in a whoosh and my forehead touches his. I close my eyes, feeling them water underneath the lids. I want him. I want to be selfish with him. I want to take him for my own and fall madly, crazily in love with him, more and more every day. I haven’t wanted anything so much in all my life.
“Theresa,” he whispers, his hot breath washing over my skin. “It doesn’t…have to mean anything.”
I blink my eyes open, leaning back a little to watch his face. “What was that?”
“If you’re not ready. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”
He keeps his gaze on me, and I let go of his hair, sliding my hands down his chest. Temptation is a funny thing. It’s like it knows what your weaknesses are and plays them to its advantage. Alec has always been my temptation. The forbidden fruit. And his words were the devil’s snake, slithering off his tongue and whispering in my ear. Now they seem like an angel’s voice, telling me that I’ve been very dumb for far too long.
I trace the dark design on his T-shirt, not saying a word. He has no idea how ready I am. This isn’t me fighting with myself anymore, fighting with the notion of love. It’s me giving in to it, embracing it. It’s me hoping I’m not too late for it.
The comforter relaxes under me, and Alec unclenches his fist and brings his hand gently to my face. The pad of his thumb smooths over my cheek, and he gives me a half grin.
“So many thoughts.” His finger taps my temple. “Care to talk about them?”
I shake my head, the ends of my hair tickling the print on his T-shirt. I’ve wanted to cut it short, but I’ve been too afraid to go through with it. Seems to be my thing.
I lean forward, letting our foreheads kiss. His fingers slowly caress the back of my head, fisting my hair, turning me on so much that my skin automatically rises with goose bumps.
“I am so done talking,” I say with a small laugh that I hear him echo. His thumb tumbles from my cheek to my bottom lip, and I resist the urge to take it into my mouth and give it a bite.
“Theresa,” he says, his voice thick and guttural. I imagine myself climaxing just from his voice alone. “Decide what you’re going to do here, please. I don’t know what’s happening, and I kinda want to be in the loop.”
I laugh and he smiles, pulling on the fistful of hair he has in his grasp.
“Am I driving you wild?” I tease, finally taking his thumb into my mouth. He lets out a breathy groan.
“You always drive me wild.” He gulps. “Damn it, either go back to your bed or kiss me.”
“Those are my only options?”
The hand in my hair drops to my shoulder and runs down my arm. I shiver from the sensation.
“I told you,” he says, using that throaty voice, “it doesn’t have to mean anything. But years of self-control aren’t going to last much longer with you sitting on top of me like this.”
Years. I waited years for the wrong person. I could’ve had so much time with Alec, so much time, discovering what real love feels like. I scoot up closer, his leg pressed hard between mine, muddling my thoughts.
“What do you want me to do?”
“It’s not up to me.”
“Tell me what you want me to do.”
“Kiss me.” His eyes close and he moves his hand to cradle the back of my neck. “Dear God, please kiss me.”
I close the distance that’s been keeping me from falling in love. My mouth touches his soft and ready and willing and waiting mouth, and the world tilts on its axis. I feel my heart reach out and cling to his, tethering us and tying us together. His tongue probes mine, dancing in a sensual rhythm, pulling our heartstrings so tight that if I was to ever be apart from him, it would destroy me. Far worse than when Eli hacked away at those very same strings for years until they broke and shriveled. It terrifies me, but in the most wonderful way possible. To even have so much to lose makes me want to cling to it, love it, appreciate it all that much more.
I set my hands on top of his shoulders, using them as leverage as I adjust. Though I’m loving the sensation of his hard, toned leg pressing between mine, I’m not close enough. I want to be able to sink into him, press our belly buttons together, feel my heart beating against his. He palms my hips, assisting me in my quest to close the gaps between us. I yank on the side of the comforter, and he kicks it out of the way, our lips grazing and bumping into each other. He tastes like cinnamon from his toothpaste. It sets my mouth on fire, making my entire body flush.
My knees sink into the pillow resting behind the small of his back, and I slide onto him with purpose, pressing my soft and ever increasing damp desire against his hard and ready body. A low groan rises from his chest, making the air around us snap and pop.
I breathe hard into his open mouth, holding as still as I can so I can tell him that everything that has happened between us has meant something, and this will too. I want it to mean something. This is the start of us, I hope. Not Theresa and Alec, friends. But Theresa and Alec, lovers. The words are much harder to say than I expected. I want to shout them out, but at the same time, they carry so much weight.
Alec’s hand flexes on my hip, massaging with just the right amount of pressure to get me to move. The first glide against his shaft bounces the words I was ready to say up into the air, and instead the only thing my tongue is capable of is heavenly expletives.
“Again,” he says, his voice laced with authority. The h
ands on my hips grip tight, but never force me into it, not that they would have to.
I press into him a second time, moaning with him as the sensation sends pleasure shocks up and down my entire body. I knock our belly buttons together, mash my breasts into the hard plate of his chest, pull on the ends of his hair, and whimper into his open mouth. His knees bend underneath me, locking me in place. I feel him flex his length, teasing me with its subtle rubbing. The moon peeks through the clouds right then, lighting up the faint smile on his face and the burning desire in his eyes.
I put my fingertips between our mouths, settling them on his bottom lip. Never have I felt so much contentment with another person. Contentment and craving all balled up in one. It hits me so hard it takes the breath clean out of my lungs—I’m about to truly make love for the first time.
I already feel that it’s so much more than I’ve ever experienced, and it’s not because of the perfect lighting or the fact that I haven’t had sex in a long while. None of what I’m feeling would ever have happened if this was with anyone else.
“Your turn,” I whisper to him. “Kiss me like you’ve always wanted to.”
His bottom lip quivers against my fingertips. “You sure about that?” He gives me the gorgeous Alec eye contact. “I’m not going to stop once I start.”
I drop my hand and lightly graze his lips with mine. “I don’t want you to stop.”
His cinnamon-scented breath releases in a long sigh against my mouth, and his lips close the small gap remaining between us. His warm tongue doesn’t waste time finding mine, and he probes with careful, sensual strokes, like he’s embracing every moment while it lasts. I feel a tug on my hem, and his careful fingers slide up my bare back until the crook of his elbow gets caught in the fabric of my shirt. The once gentle caress turns into a fiery grip, short nails digging into my skin. Our tongues stop dancing to duel over who can get closer, who gets more of this kiss. I lift my hips up and slam down on his lap, pumping over and over until we’re both in so much pleasure that our mouths can’t keep up. I can feel the sensation like it’s crawling under my skin; I’m so close to ecstasy but I can’t reach it with so many layers between us, but I don’t want to stop either. It’s a cruel joke that’s being played by the sexual universe, and I have to blink a few times at the ceiling to get myself to stop.
