Just You

by Jane Lark

  A few minutes after he’d sat down at his desk I got an email. ‘Did you get your pill?’

  ‘:-) Yeah.’

  ‘Everything okay?”

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Do you fancy going somewhere for lunch?’

  ‘That would be nice. But not Starbucks, the deli down the street.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Come to my office.’ Mr. Rees usually rang me, not emailed.

  ‘Coming now, Mr. Rees.’

  ‘I’ve got to go and see Mr. Rees, Justin. We’ll catch up at lunch.’

  ‘Yeah. Good luck!’

  I grabbed my pad and pen, and headed over, instantly feeling like I’d done wrong. Every time I had to face him, I felt like that. It reminded me of having to speak to Dad when I was a kid. There was always something I’d not done well enough, and never any gratitude or congratulations.

  The black eye Mr. Rees had come into work with the weekend after New Year had come down from a dark purple to a disgusting black and yellow. Someone had hit him, but he’d brushed it off and said he’d walked into a door.

  Yeah, the sort of door with a fist on it. He’d pissed someone off.

  “There’s some letters on there.” He slid the Dictaphone across the desk toward me. “I need them typed up today.”

  “Okay. Is there anything else, Mr. Rees?”

  “And I need a present for my wife.”

  Why, what have you done? The gifts Dad bought Mom had always meant an apology. Maybe the guy who’d given him a pounding the other week was someone to do with the woman he’d been having an affair with, or his betrayed wife. I wished someone would deliver a similar judgment on my dad. He deserved it.

  Yeah, Mr. Rees was like my dad–but a small-time version of him.

  Dad had more money, more power, more reach, and probably more women…

  “What type of present?”

  “Something more than flowers, but it can go with flowers.”

  “Jewelry?”. I thought of all the jewelry we’d discovered in a room we’d gone through back at his place New Year’s Eve, his mistress’ stuff. Maybe his wife had finally had enough and called him out… I wished Mom would do the same to Dad…

  That shoved the day I’d caught my dad out in my face. It had led to the massive fight I’d had with Daniel, and that had been the end of life as I’d known it.

  But it hadn’t been a life… Not really.

  “A necklace might be nice. I’m taking her out. She’ll be wearing dark blue, if you can find something appropriate?”

  I wanted to flip him off and chuck his Dictaphone down on his desk, and storm out. I didn’t, I needed this job, it was paying my bills, ‘cause there was no way I was letting Dad pay them. I was done with being manipulated in the way people like Mr. Rees and Dad manipulated people–with money and presents.

  Being reminded of that life dunked me in a bath of ice. It woke me up. Yeah he was like Dad, and his marriage was probably just like my parents’? Dad didn’t have a mistress, as far as I knew, but he’d been with lots of other women, while Mom turned her back and carried on.

  Romance. Happy endings. Love. Bullshit crafted by fairytales and Disney. I didn’t believe in it. It wasn’t what I was looking for. I’d made my mind up a year ago.

  When I went back to my desk, I plugged in my earphones and listened to his dictation, my fingers moving over the keys automatically, as my brain skimmed through why I hated love.

  I could still see Dad’s face when Daniel and I had walked in on him dining with some twenty-something Swedish girl. He’d taken her out to a restaurant in a hotel twenty minutes from where we were staying, and left Mom back at our chalet. Shame for him it just happened to be the same one Dan had decided to take me to. Or perhaps no shame–he didn’t really care–just asked me to say nothing so it wouldn’t hurt Mom.

  Dan and I went straight back to the chalet, and I saw from Mom’s face, she knew what was going on.

  When I’d been a child coming home on those rare occasions in the holidays, I’d watched him, always making people laugh. He was a social junky. He loved being around people and getting all the attention. But I hadn’t realized then he’d been flirting too, and then I’d finally understood why he didn’t want me there. His kid had cramped his style. That was why I’d been packed off, so Mom could keep her perfect fake life, and he could play away.

  That was when Dan and I had split up too, because he’d agreed I shouldn’t tell Mom, he’d said she was fine, she had what she wanted, a nice house and stuff… I’d told him to get lost. He’d flown back to California that night.

  What I’d thought would by my own Disney tale of love with a happy ending had turned into a horror story. But it had opened my eyes. I knew the truth now. I wasn’t writing anymore fairytales.

  ~

  Portia hadn’t looked at me all morning. She’d been staring at her screen, working.

  I knew ‘cause I’d spent half my morning glancing at her, all I could see was the curve of her cheek, and the tip of her mascara coated eyelashes. Both times I’d seen her at the weekend she’d had no makeup on.

  The Portia here wore makeup like a warrior; she was tougher.

  I couldn’t believe I knew the person under that. They were too different people. I’d got her completely wrong.

  An email appeared in my inbox at ten to twelve.

  ‘When are we going to lunch?’

  ‘Whenever you want to go.’

  ‘Twelve would be good, I’ve got to go out and do something for Mr. Rees after lunch.’

  ‘Twelve then. I’ll leave first and meet you there.’

  Half an hour later we sat in the café, eating, facing each other. She was still her office self. She’d hardly spoken, just picking at her salad.

  “I can’t go out tonight. I’ve got to mind my brothers but tomorrow, Mom’s not working, we could go to the cinema if you want?”

  “Is that a date?” Her pitch was sarcastic and cutting.

  Shit, when she was in this mood, she could be a bitch, and she was totally patronizing.

  I frowned at her. “You know I said you were arrogant in the office. Well you’re being arrogant. Yes, a date. What’s so wrong with me asking you to go somewhere? Most girls would love that I’m asking you out and not just expecting sex.”

  She shrugged and took a mouthful of salad, chewing it at the same time as she made a face at me.

  “So, do you want to go out with me or not? ‘Cause I am quite happy with not going if you’re going to get all stiff again–like I’m not good enough for you. Believe me, there are plenty of girls who think I am, Portia.”

  She swallowed her mouthful. “I didn’t say that–”

  “No, but you’re acting like it.”

  She shrugged again and then blew out a long breath. “Look, Mr. Rees, pissed me off.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s like my dad. He wants me to buy his wife presents to smooth over some fight they’ve had. What’s the value in me buying them anyway? It’s meant to be him saying sorry…”

  I leaned back in my chair, there was an undercurrent flowing.

  She looked down at her bowl of salad, looking more like the Portia of the weekend, then left her fork resting on the edge of it and looked up. “I caught Dad out. He was with a woman. Mom just overlooks the affairs. Daniel and I split up over it, because he thought it wasn’t an issue. I’m just not in the mood for a cozy chat, okay?”

  I leaned forward again, and gripped her fingers before she could pull them back. “Believe me, Portia, I know what that’s like. Dad played away the whole time my parents were together. Mom was always wondering where he was… and who with. I’m never gonna be like that. It’s something I could never do. I’ve seen what it’s like at the other end, okay?…”

  Her fingers slipped from mine sharply. “I wasn’t thinking of you. That isn’t what we’ve got going on anyway. I’m just pissed off with Mr. Rees.”

  “You didn’t se
em to care at his party?”

  “I was drunk at his party. I make stupid errors when I’m drunk.”

  “Including me?”

  “Justin, stop putting words into my mouth–I’m pissed off with Mr. Rees, no one else. And yeah, I’ll go to the cinema with you tomorrow night, but right now, I need to go and find his wife a fucking necklace. Perhaps I’ll have it engraved, P.S. your husband is a cheating bastard.”

  She stood up, grabbing her coat off the back of her chair.

  “He has kids, Portia.”

  “I know. I wouldn’t really do that. I’m just angry. Shall we do lunch again tomorrow?”

  “If you want? If you’re not gonna bowl into here like a tornado, and whirl off again…”

  She shook her head at me. At last, I caught a slight smile.

  I stood up too, and before she could turn and walk off, I grabbed her arm, turned her back a little and bent and pressed a sharp kiss on her forehead. It was like pressing an iron brand on her. I wanted this girl. I wanted her to be mine. Pride punched me in the gut when I’d first seen her today.

  She gave me a shaky smile, then turned, her arm slipping from my grip.

  Chapter Six

  Oh my God, it was freezing, and I was starting to think Justin was a little bit mad. We’d been seeing each other for four weeks off and on, more on than off. At least twice a week he planned some outing, a date, and at least three times a week he ended up around mine and we had sex.

  I’d bought a new pack of condoms, and we were nearly through it.

  Today, though, today, the outing he’d planned was a picnic in Central Park, which would be really cool–in the summer–it was winter–and it was freezing. The grass had been white with frost earlier. Now the ground was just cold and hard, but he’d actually laid a blanket out on it, and he’d bought hot pastries from a deli round the corner, and hot chocolates. The guy was crazy. He had a wicked sense of humor, and he’d taken to teasing me constantly. He said it was to drag me out of my in-office moods.

  Once, he’d stuck a post-it on my forehead at work when he’d walked past to go to the kitchen. It said: out of office tonight. We’d had a date planned, a trip to the ice rink and Chipotle.

  Fortunately, ‘cause he was always messing around, no one thought it odd, or guessed there was anything in it. They hadn’t seen what he’d written. I’d screwed it up and thrown it in the bin.

  I lay back feeling the cold creeping through my coat. I had three layers on–but I was so cold. It penetrated my gloves and hat. I looked up at the sky. It was clear blue and bright, framing the branches of a tree above us.

  Justin was lying on his back beside me. He laughed to himself.

  “What’s funny?” I rolled onto my side and looked down at him. I guess if I had to say who he most looked like, it would definitely be Jason Derulo, but Justin got better looking the more he smiled. He had charm and I was falling for it.

  His brown eyes stared up at me, glowing warm like dark amber. “Just this. Just us. Just you. I still can’t believe I’ve got a thing going with the office ice-queen. The climate suits you.”

  My palm hit his shoulder. “I’m out-of-office.”

  He caught my wrist and pulled me on top of him. I squealed, until his fingers gripped the back of my head and then he kissed me, slipping his tongue between my lips and holding my mouth to his. It was all that mattered in the world. Yeah, Justin had charm.

  When he let me go, my palm rested on his chest and I looked down at him. All around us, others were enjoying the park on a Saturday afternoon. Kids ran about, a group of guys played a ball game, loads of people were walking dogs. For a moment we stared at each other, then he whispered in a low voice. “Do you wanna go back to yours?”

  “Yes.” I did. We folded the blanket up and dumped our rubbish in a bin, then caught the subway train, fingers laced.

  I had a sudden flash of fear. I kept getting them. A feeling that I was getting in too deep, too fast. But then I’d tell myself, I’m living for now, this isn’t about tomorrow, or happy endings, it’s about being happy today–and I was happy. Probably for the first time in a year. Probably for the first time in years–maybe ever.

  When we got into my apartment he dropped the blanket on the bed and pulled my wooly hat off, then tossed that there too, before kissing me, his palm at the back of my head.

  There was no hiding from Justin. He said things like they were and he did things like they were.

  When he broke the kiss he was unbuttoning my coat and I slid down his zip. Then we were peeling clothes off and dropping them everywhere, rushing to get into bed. He flopped back on the bed, pulling me, but I pushed him off and went down on him.

  “Shit, Portia.” His voice rasped into the cold air in my room, as his fingers clawed in my hair. “Yeah, right, like that…”

  In the last four weeks, I’d learned to do stuff just like him–no holding back.

  I used my tongue to tease the sensitive pink skin at his tip. But his patience dried, or maybe he was going to come and didn’t want to, because he gripped my neck and pulled me up. “Get a condom,” he breathed at me urgently.

  I reached to the drawer in the chest beside the bed, pulled one out, tore it open and then rolled it down, sheathing him. As soon as it was on, he gripped my thighs and pulled me up, then plunged into me, with a wicked smile.

  Having sex with Justin was like riding rapids, a little dangerous.

  His fingertips pressed into my flesh gripping my thighs. He’d told me he liked my hips and thighs–and most of the time we did it, his hands were there. But wherever he touched me, he sent luscious spasms winding through me.

  He nipped at my nipple when I leaned forward.

  Smiling at him, I held still, letting him push up into me, his thighs and hips working between my legs.

  I looked down and watched his abs moving. The guy was pure gorgeous naked.

  That thought made me come. It unraveled, reeling out into my nerves, catching in every corner and rushing right to my fingertips.

  He tipped me back on the bed, and pushed my legs open wider; the beautiful cut of his abs and pecs, gilded by the sunlight coming from above. He pushed into me hard, fast and relentless. All I could do was grip his shoulders and hang on, and he made me come three more times, the orgasms piling in on top of one another like waves rolling over each other on to a beach.

  Poor Daniel–he’d been way out of Justin’s league.

  The next time I came I shut my eyes, and let him push me off a cliff, but this time he jumped with me. Growling like a caveman as he pushed hard in and then pulled a little back and did it again, pulsing inside me. His heart pounded in his chest beneath my fingers.

  When I opened my eyes, his skin glistened with sweat and his eyes glowed as he looked at me.

  “That was good,” he smiled.

  “Searching for compliments?” He was still inside me, and it felt so right.

  His fingers cupped my breast, then pinched my nipple gently. “Say it was good, or your luck’s out.” His touch became a delicate threat.

  I smiled and said nothing.

  He pinched and I squealed, laughing. “It was good! It was good!” Shutting my eyes, I bit my lip, to avoid the pain of his grip.

  When he released the pressure, I opened my eyes. He was staring into me, not just looking at me.

  A surge of emotion rushed through me that had nothing to do with sex. “It was more than good, it was awesome.”

  Whatever the surge of emotion in me was, I saw it reflected in his eyes. “You, are awesome, Portia.”

  I smiled.

  “You’re pretty awesome too.”

  He slipped out of me, then got off the bed to get rid of the condom. “Flattery don’t count when it has to be won, babe.”

  “Babe?”

  He turned back and looked at me. “What do you want me to call you then, darling?” He mimicked my voice when he said it, stripping the urban out of his accent. I didn’t want him to
talk like me.

  “You can say, babe.”

  “Do you want coffee?”

  “Yeah.”

  He made it, naked, as I lay there watching the really high, rounded muscle in his buttocks, and the long lean length of his thighs. I loved the way his ass curved into his lower back, and the line of his spine, and… everything… I loved everything about his body, including the shape of his head, I smiled to myself

  He turned and smiled at me–his smile playing odd games with the sensations in my belly.

  After he’d bought the coffee over, he got back into bed with me, and we snuggled up under the comforter as he held me and we watched old episodes of the Big Bang Theory.

  My life felt good, for the first time ever.

  Chapter Seven

  I watched Portia. She was working on some more dictation from Mr. Rees.

  It was six weeks since the weekend after New Year’s–since Portia and I had started something up. They’d been pretty good weeks. Mom had even come ‘round to the idea that this girl might actually be good for me. She’d stopped panicking when I stayed out.

  But I hadn’t shown her a picture. I didn’t know how she’d take the fact that Portia was white. Stupid. But Mom was gonna have to step out of her comfort zone. She was a traditionalist, she liked things just so. Portia’s background and her families money, was gonna throw Mom off track when she found out I was dating a society girl. She’d be anxious about it causing trouble for me.

  Anxiety was stitched into Mom’s DNA–by Dad’s failings–and there was no unpicking it. She worried, and I hated making her worry, but I also had to live my life.

  Robin had filled me in on the fact she’d been asking him a ton of questions. But he didn’t know Portia was white either.

  I breathed out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding; Portia was going to have to meet them soon. I wanted our thing to shift up a level. I wanted her to be my girl–in all my life. I figured Portia wasn’t gonna step it up. She’d given no indication she wanted anything to change. If anyone was taking this up a gear, it was gonna be me.

  I just wanted to stop hiding what we had.