by Lisa Loomis
I reached for a Kleenex beside her bed.
“Giving up? You’ll give him up till he wants you again.”
“Watch me, Gayle,” I said more determined than I felt, although I couldn’t seem to stop the tears.
“Besides, if we move, which looks highly likely, I have to give it up,” I sucked in a big breath, trying to calm myself.
“Don’t,” she said, coming to me.
“I know you hate it when girls cry,” I choked out a laugh, thinking of him.
I broke down again when she hugged me.
In March, our house sold, and I started dating Ben. Ironically, he was a football player Mathew had introduced me to at a party. He was two years older than me, tall, about six feet two, wavy brown hair with grey eyes. He said all the right things to my parents and me. They liked him. Gayle was over the top about Ben; he was perfect for me, the good guy, finally. I couldn’t help but wonder whether part of her enthusiasm was the distance he kept me from Mathew.
Mathew was involved heavily in the band, the parties, the girls, and Ben didn’t like him much. Kingdom Come was starting to play at local events, and Ben and I went with friends several times to watch the band play. The fact that Mathew and I were friends seemed to bother Ben. If Mathew knew I was there, he would seek me out, almost like he was trying to make Ben uncomfortable. We were at a party where Kingdom Come was playing. One where I hadn’t known they would be there, and Mathew approached us on a break. It was loud, the crowd all talking and laughing.
“Hey, Big Ben,” he slapped Ben on the back. “How’s it going, dude?”
“Good, Matt,” he answered loudly, obviously not happy to see him.
“Hey, kid,” Mathew, shouted, holding his arms open, sporting his lazy sexy grin.
“Hey,” I said, hugging him quickly.
Ben shot me a warning glance. Mathew caught it and laughed.
“Chill, dude. Morgan, and I have been friends a long time, you know that.”
The way he said friends left the term sort of open and I knew he’d done it intentionally. People pushed around us making their way in the crowd.
“He treating you right, Morgan?” Mathew asked, knowing he was getting to Ben.
I could feel the tension rising, feel the hairs rise on my arms. I didn’t understand Mathew’s motivation, wondered why he cared that I was with Ben now.
“Yeah, Mathew, he treats me right.”
Mathew glanced from me back to Ben and smiled.
“Good. Good,” he said jollily, slapping Ben on the back again. “If he doesn’t, you let me know.”
I saw Ben clench his jaw and I thought he might hit him. Mathew was strong, but Ben had a lot of height on him.
“Gotta run,” he said and was gone.
He disappeared easily into the crowd.
“What an asshole he is,” Ben said.
The exchange had made me tense; my stomach was in a knot. The big-brother attitude from Mathew didn’t sit well with me either.
My time with Ben did keep me from being around Mathew; he did everything in his power to make sure of it. Ben was possessive, and I was in love with the fact that someone acknowledged wanting me. A girlfriend, open and claimed, for the first time. As Ben and I grew closer, so did our moving date. I could not believe I’d finally found a boyfriend, and now I had to go.
“Ben, I can’t stand this,” I cried to him.
“I know, baby. We’ll make it work,” he said. “You’ll be back in less than a month. I’ll wait.”
“What then? I leave again, and you’re here and I’m way the hell down there.”
“We can write, call, let’s take it a step at a time,” he said, trying to soothe me.
I didn’t feel reassured. Ben was good-looking and a looker. I had caught him on more than one occasion, checking out girls while I was right next to him. “Rubber Necker” Mathew called him. I thought about numerous words I could call Mathew, womanizer, cheater, my one time fuck buddy, my friend, then decided no. None of it mattered.
My parents had agreed to send me back to San Jose for a couple weeks once school was out, in an attempt to calm my distress. The scene in our driveway the day we left was so sad. All the neighborhood kids were there, most crying. I was crying, my heart aching, feeling like it was being torn from my chest. Ben held me close. Gayle was beside herself like I had never seen her. We’d gone to the O’Conner’s the night before for goodbyes. Mathew had held me tight, tenderly, lovingly rocked me.
“I’ll really miss you, Morgan,” he whispered.
His touch brought back thoughts of him and me, and I pulled away somewhat disconcerted by them.
“Play something for me,” I asked, forcing down the tears. “Nothing that will make me cry, okay?”
“You got it.”
I would miss him terribly. As much as he had put me through, we had a unique friendship. I wasn’t closer to anyone other than Gayle, not even Ben. I’d shared so much with him in this very room.
It was Cinco De Mayo when we arrived in San Diego. The drive was hateful, and Pat and I had cried for different reasons the whole way. My world had indeed shattered. I understood Mathew’s mad. “Mad as hell” he'd said. It summed it up perfectly. How could my parents do this to us? I started a new school, which ended a month later with not one new friend. The cliques were established; I was the new girl.
The girls didn’t want to know me, and the boys, if they did, were afraid of the girls. Knowing I was going back to San Jose for a few weeks was the only thing keeping me sane. Ben and I talked on the phone. He couldn’t wait to see me. I couldn’t wait to see him. Mathew even called a couple of times to see how I was doing. My parents arranged for me to spend a week at Gayle’s; the second week at Ann and Brad’s. Ben picked me up at the airport. I’d given up any cigarette smoking.
“Hey, babe,” he said, kissing me at the gate, bringing me flowers.
“Ben, this is so nice,” I said, feeling loved. “You can’t even know how happy I am to be here.”
“Pretty good guess,” he said, kissing me again. “I’m proud of you for giving up the cigs, they were nasty.”
The first week flew by. Ben and I spent most of our time at the beach, hanging out. Gayle joined us now and then for a movie or dinner. He packed in activities, and it seemed I couldn’t get him alone for more than a kiss, which perplexed me.
“Gayle, he seems different,” I said as we sat in her yard.
“No he doesn’t,” she said.
“Maybe I’m just feeling insecure. I have two weeks, and then I leave again. He’s not going to wait for a girl who lives seven hundred miles away.”
“Morgan, just have fun. Don’t get yourself down about leaving, focus on being here. I’ve been so glad to hear happy in your voice.”
“I know,” I said.
Gayle and I had talked on the phone a lot—my mom hid the bills from my dad. It was expensive, long-distance calls, but she knew I needed a friend.
“Okay, Mathew’s tomorrow. Will you be glad to see him?” Gayle asked.
“I guess. I didn’t leave with us in the best place,” I said. “Ben and all.”
“What fucking ever,” she said. “Ben doesn’t know anything happened with you and Mathew does he?”
“No,” I shouted. “He would kill me, even if it was before him. He’s not a real Mathew fan, as you know. Thinks he’s too cocky. I think there is a bit of jealousy on Ben’s part because the girls rubber neck Mathew.”
Gayle laughed, and laughed, and I joined in.
Ben dropped me off after our date the following day. He’d expressed his annoyance that it was Mathew’s house. I’d pointed out that the O’Conner’s were my parents friends and had willingly offered me a place to stay, his mother certainly hadn’t. It felt strange to ring the doorbell.
“Hey, Ann,” I said when she opened the door.
“Morgan,” she said, stepping out and hugging me tightly. “Ben, good to see you again.”
�
��You too Mrs.-“
Ann frowned at him.
“Ann,” she corrected motioning us inside.
“I’ll get her stuff,” Ben said, heading back out to his car.
Ann squeezed me again.
“It’s so good to see you,” she said, leading me toward the family room and sitting down in a chair. “I miss your mom and you so much. You can’t imagine.”
I could imagine, mom and I had cried together several times about being so far away.
“She misses you too. She hasn’t made any friends yet. Me either.”
Her face softened and she smiled at me.
“You both will, be patient, give it time.”
I heard the front door open again.
“Morgan, where should I put your suitcase?” Ben called.
I jumped up and went back to the entry, then led him to the guest room.
“Right here,” I said, turning on the light as he set my things down.
“Nice place,” he said, looking around the bedroom and then the living room.
“Nice? It’s more than nice,” I said.
This house, so familiar and comfortable to me; “comfortable” I heard Mathew say, he’d called me comfortable once. I looked down the hall towards his room.
"Come on,” I said, taking Ben’s hand.
We sat with Ann and talked, and I could tell she liked Ben.
“I can see you’re in good hands,” he said finally. “I’ve got to get going.”
I walked him to the door, kissing him goodnight. Yes, something was missing. He hadn’t pushed for more, almost had made it impossible for more.
“See you in the morning,” he said.
I shut the door feeling down. I was glad I had Ann, she seemed to enjoy talking with me.
“Mathew’s out, but guess you probably figured that out,” Ann said when I sat back down.
I hadn’t asked. I stayed up talking with her, hoping he would get home. When she turned on the news I figured it was time to go to bed. Brad had been in and out during the evening; Sara and Sam had already headed to bed.
“Maybe I’ll see him tomorrow,” I said when I decided to go to bed.
I was out early the next morning. Mathew was apparently still asleep. He was doing gigs with the band at night, sleeping late. Two nights passed, and I had yet to see him. The memories were weighing heavily on me. I remembered the last time I’d slept in this room, not even seven months ago. The night I’d crawled into the bed after lovemaking, his smell still lingering on me. Maybe he was avoiding me because of Ben. No, Ben didn’t intimidate him. I’d gone into his room more than once. Even picked up a T-shirt and breathed in his smell. I’d handled his guitar, running my fingers along the strings. Sara caught me once, standing in the middle of the room.
“Morgan,” she said.
Her voice made me jump, and I turned to look at her.
“Hey-” I said, feeling like an intruder.
I stopped, realizing anything I said would sound stupid.
“It’s okay,” she said, “I don’t think he would mind.”
Then she disappeared down the hall. I wanted to see him I realized. I wanted to talk to him, catch up, feel like we were still close.
Sara, Ann, and I sat in the hot tub and talked that night. It was dark, the night air somewhat cool. I looked up into the sky; the stars were bright as was the moon, which made me think of green men. We talked and laughed about the beach and ski trips. I thought about Mathew lacing his fingers in mine in Mammoth in the hot tub. I thought about having been with Ben all day, and how his behavior was starting to bother me. He seemed distant and aloof. I flashed back to the night with Gayle in this very spot. I thought about what had played out that weekend. How crazy it had gotten with the three of us. We were both nuts for letting it go there. I saw Mathew lying naked on the bed with the two of us. It was too much.
“I think I’ll go shower,” I said. “I’m tired. I’m ready to get in bed and read.”
“You go ahead,” Ann encouraged.
“Sleep tight, Morgan,” Sara said.
I stepped out, grabbed a towel, and headed inside. The shower felt good. I let the hot water run down my back for a long time. I dried off in the steamed-up bathroom and put on a nightgown and robe. My hair was wet, but I wasn’t up to blowing it dry. Sara was standing in the hall when I came out.
“Sorry. I know I took too long.”
“Mathew’s home,” she said.
“Oh, that’s good” I said, heading to my room.
“Aren’t you going to go see him?” she asked. “He’s up.”
“Like this? I don’t think so,” I said.
“Go,” she said.
Sara and Mathew were at odds more often than not, so I was surprised at her encouragement. I looked towards his room. The door was closed.
“Sara, maybe in the morning,” I said, moving down the hall.
I read for a while before I turned off the light, just drifting off to sleep when I felt a presence. When I opened my eyes, Mathew was standing next to the bed. I propped myself up on my elbows, and he came and sat on the edge of the bed.
“Hi,” he whispered.
“Hey, Mathew,” I said softly, bending forward to hug him.
He held me tight for a long while and I didn’t try and pull away.
“I’ve missed you,” he said softly, his hair brushing my cheek.
When he released me, he took my hands, and moved in closer as I leaned back in the bed against the pillows.
“Really missed you.”
“Mathew, I’m tired, I’m involved, and no doubt so are you. Go to bed. Let’s catch up in the morning.”
He hadn’t let my hands go, squeezing them instead.
“Morgan, I need you,” he said in the dark.
He missed me? He needed me? Had Mathew ever needed anyone? Did he miss my friendship or our crazy physical relationship? Mathew hadn’t used these kinds of words with me. I wasn’t clear on their meaning, not from him.
“I’m with Ben and—”
“Do you love him?” he asked, cutting me off.
I thought about his question: love, another word so foreign to our vocabulary. Did I love Ben? Did I? I’d never said it to him. Why would it matter if I did or didn’t? While all these questions raced through my mind, Mathew moved closer, pulling our hands to his chest. Oh, Mathew, what is it about you? How can you suck me in so completely? Make me want to do things I know are wrong? He brought my hands to his face and kissed them, his lips felt like fire. I pulled my hands away.
“I don’t know,” I whispered.
“Know what?” he asked, distracted.
“If I love him.”
I felt my throat tighten. Why was he asking me this? Now I had to think. He lay down on the bed next to me and ran his fingers through my hair. I shivered. This was the gentler, more caring Mathew I had known from time to time.
“Are you happy?” he asked.
“I think so. I don’t know,” I said, hesitant and confused. “It’s seems different with Ben now. Like my being away has changed something. I don’t know if it’s him or me. There’s this unspoken distance I feel. Gayle thinks I’m imagining it, but it’s like he’s going through the motions but not really there some times.”
I realized Mathew’s question made me confront my doubts and I didn’t really like it.
“He’s not for you.”
Who did he think was for me? Him? I wondered. He moved in and kissed me softly. When I let him, he took it to the next level, the kind of kiss that used to send me over the edge. An edge Ben had never sent me over. I wrapped my arms around him and pressed my face into his shirt. In one simple exchange, I was back, back to Mathew and me.
“Can I get in bed with you?” he asked uncertainly.
“What about your parents?”
“They’ve gone to bed. I made sure before I came in.”
Without me answering he stripped off his clothes and got in next to me. He wrapped
his warm naked body around mine and it didn’t feel weird like I thought it might. I sat up, lifting my nightgown over my head and let it drop to the floor. He pulled me to him, pressing our bodies into each other and kissed me. Kissed the tender skin on my eyelids, my cheek, and then down my neck. I inhaled deeply. Then he kissed my lips and gave me that kiss.
That kiss, the edge, the one that could make me instantly wet. His tongue seeking mine probing just the right way, making me forget there was anything but us. He traced his fingers down my shoulders and chest and teased my nipples. He rose up and followed the same trail with kisses and his tongue. He squeezed my breasts as he sucked on my nipples, which hardened with desire.
“Ah,” I moaned.
“I’ve missed you.”
His words. At this point I didn’t care what his words meant. He kissed down my stomach and then spread my legs and kissed me there to. And then his tongue, his exquisite tongue, moved around my private parts, entering me, licking, sucking: making me want to buck and scream. He plunged his fingers into me and as he did so I arched and moaned in orgasm.
“Good, god,” I breathed.
He softened his touch between my legs and moved back up to my lips. I could taste myself in his mouth, starchy and sweet.
“That’s only the start kid,” he whispered.
I pushed him up and kissed his chest and down his body moving him higher until I could take his cock in my mouth. He tasted salty sweet like the rim of a margarita glass. I licked and sucked and moved him in and out of my mouth. He groaned and the sound sent shivers through me. I ran one hand up his chest and could feel the hammering of his heart. He pulled back and moved down my body.
When he entered me, he rocked into me slowly, letting me get into the rhythm with him. I put my hands on his face and pulled his lips to mine, wanting his warm tongue in my mouth. I tried to move faster, but he held me back until it was almost painful and then when he was ready, he took it faster, riding us to the peak, where we both exploded. It was more intense than anything I’d ever experienced, even with him. Maybe he did need me; maybe I needed him. In the dark, in this moment, Mathew was all I wanted. I lay in his arms, my head tucked below his chin as he stroked my hair, relishing the smell of sex in the air.
