by CJ Martín
Fresh powder sprays across my board as JJ comes to halt a few feet away. “You look deep in thought. Whatcha thinking about?”
Gigs stripped naked in my bed. Her back arched as her fingers pump slowly in and out of her pussy. While I watch.
“Nothing.” I shrug.
“Coach is on the warpath today. Screamed at me about my form on the half pipe.” He scoffs at the suggestion. “My form was perfect.”
I shrug in response. My mind is a million miles away. Well three hundred and thirty-seven to be exact.
“Seriously, dude. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing, right. This wouldn’t have anything to do with your roommate?”
“No.” My response is quick. Too quick.
“Sure, sure. You tapping that yet?”
“Don’t fucking talk about her like that.”
JJ whistles through is teeth. “Shit. You like her.”
“Shut the fuck up.” I scowl.
“She is hot. I get it. I’d hit that that too.” He’s goading me, I know, but I take the bait anyway.
I shove at his chest hard. “What part of don’t fucking talk about her don’t you understand?”
“Sorry.” JJ backs away. “I didn’t realize… so are you two dating?”
My eyes narrow in a glare. “I don’t date.”
“But you’re not hooking up with anyone else?” My silence is all the answer he needs. “And you spend all your free time with her?”
I glare again. Get to the point.
He chuckles again. “Man, never thought I’d see the day.”
“You’re an asshole.” I angle my board away from him, ready to catch the lift back to the top.
“Vik, you gotta be honest. Tell her you like her. Make your move.”
“What makes you an expert? Last time I checked you had how many serious relationships?”
He scowls.
“Yeah, exactly. Zero.”
He nods his head in agreement. “Let’s just say I learned a lot from my dad’s numerous failed relationships.” He tips his head in consideration. “I learned how not to be.”
That does make sense. “Whatever.” I catch the lift and he jumps on with me.
“Just think. It’s built in sex for the next five months. Why would you pass that up?”
“You mention Gigs and sex in the same sentence again, ever, I will fuck you up.” My voice remains calm but I am dead serious.
He’s still laughing as he jumps off and glides away. “You’ve got it bad.” His eyebrows wiggle up and down. “Maybe she’s your soul mate.”
I shake my head in disgust. Seriously, you’re a dude. You should never say the word soul mate aloud. “Shut up and board.”
We hit the slopes hard for the next four hours. JJ was right, Coach was on a warpath but it felt good to be back. I exerted so much physical strength and mental concentration that I was unable to think about Gigs for the rest of the day. We messed around for a bit, pulling double and triple corks. I even landed a Superman front flip. JJ, not wanting to be outperformed, went for a rodeo, but he lost it on the front-barrel roll and fell. Thankfully he wasn’t hurt, but it didn’t stop me from laughing my ass off.
She didn’t cross my mind again until I was falling asleep. Images of her legs wide and touching herself played in my mind in a loop on constant repeat. It was like being a teenager all over again—fantasizing about a girl and beating off before going to bed. Only this time was different. This wasn’t just any girl. This was Gigs. My Gigs. With sudden clarity, I knew what I had to do. I had to tell her how I felt.
Gigs doesn’t know I’m coming home early. I wanted to surprise her. Look at me, being all romantic and shit. I couldn’t wait to see her. Hear her voice. Smell the subtle scent of her fruity shampoo. Two more hours and I’d be home. Home with Gigs, and I honestly couldn’t fucking wait.
Four hours later and I was just pulling into the parking lot behind our building. There was an accident on Route fifty-four that delayed traffic for hours. I would like to say that I was super concerned for the parties involved and that I cared that they were okay—they were—but if I’m being honest, I was furious. I couldn’t wait to get home to her, and the delay caused me to lose quality time.
I pull my Range Rover into my spot out back and glance at the clock. It’s well after midnight. She’ll already be asleep. My biggest dilemma is whether or not I should wake her up, and even as I deliberate, I know that I won’t because she looks so peaceful as she sleeps.
My gear lands in a messy pile in the entryway; I’ll deal with it tomorrow. I wander into the living room, expecting to find her asleep on the couch, but continue on when I see that she’s not there. My footsteps are quiet on the stairs leading me straight to the bedroom. The fireplace is on full blast, and she’s wrapped in her favorite green blanket. In my fucking bed. Just as I imagined her. My cock stirs.
I quickly strip down to my boxers and grab the first pair of pajama pants in my drawer. Slowly peeling back the blankets I bite back my gasp when I see that she’s wearing my faded old Foo Fighters t-shirt . The shirt that I usually sleep in. Smug satisfaction rushes through me, and I can’t help my smile. She looks fucking good in my shirt. My shirt and nothing else. I sneak a quick kiss on her temple and whisper, “Good night.” She murmurs quietly in her sleep and snuggles closer to me. I quickly fall into a deep sleep. After four long days I’m finally home.
Waking with a deep sense of peace, I feel more rested than I have in days. My eyes focus slowly and I take in a still-sleeping Gigs. Her expression is serene and her lips form a small smile. Our legs are entwined and her soft skin against mine feels incredible. My arm is draped across her belly and I tug her a little closer to me, relishing these few precious unguarded moments before she wakes. She rolls a little toward me and rests her head on my bare chest. My fingers splay and rub small, soft circles on her lower back.
She murmurs, “Anders.”
My heart is beating so loudly I swear she must hear it. My name on her lips is a sound that I want to wake up to every morning. She twists a little more, her hand grazing me in the most delicious way. Her hand hits my morning wood and I absolutely can’t suppress my groan. At the sound of my voice, she wakes up. It takes her a moment to orient herself, and when she realizes that I’m in bed with her she jumps back. Her hand jerks up my length in her effort to get away. I cannot help it. I groan. Again.
“Anders,” she says again, her face flushed.
I smile at her. She is too damn cute. “Morning, Gigs.”
“Wh-what are you doing home?” Her faces scrunches in confusion.
“Not happy to see me?” I tease.
She doesn’t respond, but rather she sits up, moving out of bed. Once standing she realizes that she’s half-naked and wearing my shirt. If possible, her face flushes an even deeper shade of red. She pulls at the hem in an effort to somehow magically make the shirt longer. I shamelessly check out her legs. God, I want them wrapped around me while I fuck her up against the wall.
“I… it was late when I came to bed… I grabbed the first thing…” She’s tripping over her words.
“No worries.” I smile at her again. I know she’s lying. She’s a shit liar. Plus, that shirt was at the bottom of a pile of clothes on the floor. I know this for a fact because she teased me about picking my clothes up before I left.
“I didn’t mean to sleep in the bed. I know I should be on the couch. It’s just that the bed is more comfortable… it’s warmer and—”
“Gigs, it’s fine.” She is really sexy when she’s embarrassed. “I love having you in my bed.”
She stops rambling and looks at me again. “Really?” But before I can answer, she looks away.
“Yeah.” Maybe I should tell her now. I take a deep breath, steel my nerves, but before I can say a word, she speaks.
“I have to get ready for work.” She grabs a few random pieces of clothes from the basket.
; The air whooshes out of my lungs. “Sure.” I sit up and push the covers off. “I’ll make coffee.”
Half an hour later we’re both seated at the breakfast bar. She munches on her toast as I eat my Frosted Flakes. Words are running through my head. Everything I want to tell her is a jumbled mess.
Her voice interrupts my thoughts. “So you’re home early?”
If I’m not mistaken there’s a hint of hesitation in her voice, almost as if she’s not happy I’m here. Maybe it’s my paranoia. “Yeah, Coach was impressed with my runs and I stomped the landing on the Backside 720—not gonna lie, it was pretty awesome.”
She smiles in acknowledgement.
“Plus there were a few reporters on site covering the women’s exhibitions. He didn’t want to attract too much attention. Yet.”
I told Gigs a little bit about why I’m hiding out in Seven Pines. Of course, I didn’t tell her the whole story. At least I haven’t yet. I don’t know if she’d believe me about the drugs. I’m not sure I’d believe me, with my reputation. I told her that my coach wanted me to lie low before exhibitions. And that is not a lie.
“Oh,” she says.
“Something wrong?” I get right to the point. Whoever said guys aren’t perceptive clearly hasn’t met me. I feel like I can pick up on every aspect of Gigs’s personality and it’s driving me fucking insane.
“No.” Her voice is quick, and she looks away.
I dismiss her mood. It’s early and I’ve come to learn that she’s not a morning person. Not to mention, I’m hyped up on nerves. After my heart to heart with JJ yesterday I’m anxious to talk to her, tell her how I feel. I just want to get it over with already.
“Are we hanging out tonight?” I try to keep my voice neutral.
She looks away, a little frown creasing her brow before speaking. “I can’t tonight.”
“Okay.” I agree easily. Although I’m eager to get my feelings out, I realize that she made plans before she knew I’d be back, so I can’t be pissed. “You watching Vampire Dairies over Skype with Maria?” I tease. Those two love that show.
“No,” she says, and looks away again.
What the fuck? Why is she being so secretive?
“Okay,” I say, drawing out the syllable. “You gonna tell me what you’re up to then?”
“I’m hanging out with Tom tonight.”
All the blood drains from my face. Tom? The fucking medic? I try, I try really hard, to keep my voice casual. I fail miserably. I stare at her. “So is it a date?”
“Kinda.” She looks away again.
I pause for a moment, because I know if I speak now I’ll say something wildly inappropriate. I remain quiet, and then I snatch up my cereal bowl and slam it down into the sink. Oops.
“Anders, I thought you were gone for another day.” She’s still sitting at the island.
“It’s all good.” I keep my back to her.
“We can hang out tomorrow night?”
“Sure.” I shrug. “Whatever. It’s cool.”
I am going to fucking murder JJ. All his talk about feelings and soul mates. Fucking bullshit. I can’t believe I actually bought that crap. How fucking ironic that I spent the last four days pining away, thinking about Gigs, when she is going out with another man. And Tom, of all people. Fuck, at least she could’ve picked someone better looking than him.
It serves me right. I guess karma really does come back around to bite you in the ass.
I kept myself busy most of the day boarding trails, but since it was Friday there were too many people. People that I had no desire to deal with. I came back, showered, and played several rounds of racing of Gran Turismo before crashing on the couch.
I wake up to the sound of Gigs shuffling in the hallway, muttering quietly to herself. “Stupid shoes.”
Sitting up slowly, I use every ounce of willpower that I possess to remain seated on the couch. I will not go to her. I will remain calm.
She rounds the corner and my eyes greedily take her in. She looks stunning in a dark green lace dress and jean jacket. Her hair is loosely curled and whatever makeup she has on her eyes makes them pop.
She’s breathtaking.
I can’t believe she is dressed like this, looking this good, and going to meet Tom.
Fuck you, universe. Fuck you.
“You’re up.” Her smile is shy. “Hope I didn’t wake you?”
“Nope.” Minimal responses will be best.
“How do I look?”
“Fishing for compliments really doesn’t suit you.” My voice is sharper than I intend.
She gasps a quick intake of breath, then says, “I wasn’t.”
I backpedal, trying to ease the sting of my comment. I chuckle. “Relax Gigs. You look good.”
That is the understatement of the year. She looks hot. She looks sexy. She looks fuckable.
“Thanks. I think we’re going to grab some pizza and then come back and watch a movie.” My expression darkens and she reads it immediately. “That’s okay, right? I made plans before I knew you—”
Sorry to interrupt your fuckfest. “It’s fine.”
There’s a sharp rap on the door and we both jump at the sound. She makes no attempt to move, just holds my gaze a few moments longer. “You sure it’s okay?” she asks again.
I don’t answer and actually think about telling her how I feel right here, right now. Another sharp knock breaks the thought and instead I say, “Sure, no worries. Now go. You don’t want to keep Tommy waiting.”
She gives me one more, long look before turning to the door.
This is going to be a long ass night.
Anders left over two hours ago. He was pissed. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him that pissed. But I don’t know what the hell I did? I know he doesn’t like people over, but it was just Tom. I mean seriously, he’s known Tom longer than I have. And we were just watching a movie. It’s not like we were having crazy sex on the sofa in front of him.
I don’t get it. Every time he’s out—even when I am with him—women fall at his feet. I can only assume that he is hooking up with them. Taking advantage of their offers. After all, he does have a reputation. And I never say anything. Even though it kills me every time.
Every. Time.
After Tom left, I showered and got changed for bed. I decided mid-shower that I wouldn’t be sleeping upstairs with Anders. It was time for me to relocate to the couch. I was fine with it, really. I wasn’t going to miss him cuddled next to me. I wasn’t going to miss the warm fireplace that Anders always made sure was cranked high for me because he knew I liked it warm. No, the couch was fine. Just fine.
I flip idly through the channels but I can’t focus on anything. My mind keeps wandering to Anders. Where is he? What is he doing? Who is he doing? But most importantly, why did he get so mad at me?
As I switch off the end table lamp, I hear his keys rattling in the door. I hesitate for a second, contemplating whether or not I should pretend to be asleep, but decide that I’m not that much of a coward.
Moments later he stumbles in. His loud breathing and labored movements indicate that he’s drunk. He doesn’t notice me at first, as he turns back to face the door. He rests both palms flat on the door and hangs his head down.
After a minute or so, he locks the door and turns toward the living room. His eyes find me in the dim light of the TV. We stare at each other for a few moments, neither one of us saying a word.
Finally he breaks the silence. “Where’s your boyfriend?”
Honestly I don’t think I even need to dignify that with a response. Tom is not my boyfriend. We hung out once, but still, I can’t help myself. “You just missed him.”
Anders eyes widen and his nostrils flare. He stomps over to me loudly. His movements which are usually so smooth and fluid, are awkward and clumsy. “Tell me, Elena, does Tom know that you spend every night in my bed?” His face is inches from mine, and I can see that his pupils are wide and dilated, but I don’t know if it�
��s from his anger or the alcohol. Maybe both.
I’m momentarily stunned. He’s only called me Elena once before, and I can’t help but note that this time is very different. The way he spit my name out, it’s like a weapon he’s using against me. Like I’m nothing to him. It hurts more than I let on. I regain my composure. “You’re drunk.”
“I guess that’s a no then. Wonder what he’d say about that?” Anders’s words slur a little and his accent is thicker.
“Anders, go to bed. We’ll talk in the morning.” Annoyance tinges my words. I never had much patience in dealing with drunk people. Just ask Maria.
Rather than listening to me, he turns away and walks into the kitchen. I don’t follow him, but can hear the kitchen faucet turn on. When he returns he’s holding a partially filled glass and walks past me to the stairs. He ignores me as he passes by.
I settle back down on the couch and leave the TV on, knowing that I won’t be able to fall asleep at this point. Restless, I toss back and forth on the couch. My hands shake with anger as I reach for my blanket. How dare he?
I hear rustling around upstairs as he strips out of his clothes. His pants hit the floor with a loud thunk, then, more softly, his shirt. When I hear the click of the fireplace turning on, my heart skips a beat. He teases me about the damn thing. Why is he putting it on? I hear him mutter a curse and then a loud crash as his glass hits the wall. I’m tempted to go see what the hell he is doing up there, but I remain rooted to my spot on the couch.
Five minutes later, Anders stands before me wearing nothing but his boxers. He is cast in blue shadows from the TV and I try really hard not to stare at him. I’ve never seen him this naked—he usually wears a t-shirt and pants to bed when I sleep with him. I knew he was ripped, but wow.
