by Haley Jenner
"Jake."
I see him. Standing in front of me; work shirt folded to his forearms, tie-knot loosened around his neck.
I know he's there, I could reach out and touch him to make sure, but I don't need to.
I know he's there, but I can't bring myself to believe it.
"David," my voice cracks and the end of his name is barely audible.
Clearing my throat, I shake my head to gather my wits. "I…uh…." I stumble, scratching my chest and neck in an awkward pause. Words fail me. The fuck is he doing here? I'd convince myself it was a hallucination, that I'd misconstrued his presence, but there’s no doubt he’s in his home, work papers held, forgotten in his hands.
"Aubrey mentioned she ran into you. Thanks for getting her home safely last night. She can be very immature and self-absorbed at times. I've only just gotten in myself so I appreciate you looking out for her. Someone needs to, God forbid she take that role on herself," he bristles, completely oblivious to my awkward behavior.
"Ah…don't mention it. She…uh…around?" I cough out, stepping back from the door.
David's attention has moved back to the papers in his hand, brow furrowed. "Sorry?" he questions, irritated at having his thought process interrupted and clearly having forgotten my presence. "Aubrey? No, she’s sleeping, has been all morning. Does that when she drinks," he shakes his head in annoyance, neck shading with the anger spiking his words.
I stare at him blankly for a moment, lost in my irritation at his dismissal of Aubrey's behavior. Does he give a second thought to why she goes out to drink away her sorrows? Escape her life?
"Look, kiddo, I'm flat out with work. I don’t have time for Aubrey’s juvenile scream for attention. I'll tell her you popped by to make sure she got home safe," he dismisses me, already pulling his cell from his pocket and turning his back on me.
Kiddo. That fucker just call me kiddo! I’m barely five or six years his junior and he views me as a child. Sees me as nothing more than Archer’s kid brother. He's so caught up in himself, he can't possibly contemplate the idea that I would be a threat. Dismisses me spending time with Aubrey, alone, as nothing because of a negligible few years.
I feel like a dickhead. I look like a dickhead. Standing on their porch having been dismissed as somebody so insignificant. I guess to David I am. I'm nobody to him. Just an acquaintance on the outskirts having no meaning in his life. If only he knew.
Forcing myself to move, I turn my leaden feet slowly and move towards my car. I sit within the confines of my Charger for an indefinite amount of time. Questions racing through my brain. Was she awake? Did she know I was there? Have they just reconnected? In the last few hours? Was I played? Or did I choose to ignore the possibility that Aubrey and David were always very much together?
I feel fucking sick. I want to empty the limited contents of my stomach onto the road. Rid myself of the overwhelming feeling of disgust overtaking my body.
David's a dick. There's no denying that, I've known it forever. He treats Aubrey like shit, and that’s what he lets us see, clearly its more deep-seated. He doesn't deserve her, and I have no idea why she settles for that, why she doesn’t walk away. But she makes the conscious decision to stay, has done for years and that’s on her. No one forces her hand and every day she chooses to stay, to give David something he shouldn't be welcome to. It doesn't mean he deserves the betrayal Aubrey has just served for him. For what? A one-night stand? Worse than that, she's pulled me into her lies. Unknowingly, I participated wholeheartedly. How can I, in all decency, ever look the guy in the eye knowing I fucked his woman? Felt her come around me and emptied my seed inside of her? Bare? When he hasn't?
Jesus. Fucking. Christ.
Who is this woman? Could I be that wrong about the goodness in her soul? Is this a common occurrence, was I just some schmuck she pulled into her web of deceit? Just to be discarded without a second thought.
I hate myself for even thinking these thoughts about her. I've known Aubrey for most of my life. There has to be something bigger at play. There has to be. Otherwise all these years of friendship, however slight, mean nothing. Not a damn fucking thing.
Pulling onto the street I drive away slowly, considering my next move. I call the motel and rebook my room. It's not been cleaned yet and I tell them not to bother. Call me a fool but right now I don't care. I just can't bring myself to head back to Carnation. To face Ma and Annabelle with this weighing on my shoulders. I need another night. Just to decompress the shit storm that's brewing in my head, hard and heavy.
I stop by the closest supermarket in Arlington and buy booze, a truckload of it. I text Steve when I arrive back at the Motel and tell him I'm stuck in Arlington for an extra night and that I won't be at work tomorrow. He texts back his acknowledgment, totally cool with it. I'm a hard worker, he knows it. If I'm not there, there's good enough reason. He respects that, and I appreciate it.
I sit in my car instead of moving straight to my room, and staring blankly ahead I try to understand what the fuck has happened. Twenty-four hours ago I was getting ready to play a gig. Sing some songs, get paid and head back to Carnation to my friends, to my family. Now I feel I've been thrown to the wolves, completely lost, trying in earnest to find any kind of direction. I sit in my car for at least an hour, contemplating my life and replaying the previous night’s events in my brain. Did I misconstrue her words? I can't remember her saying the exact words, but she well and truly implied they were done. Didn't she?
Finally folding from the Charger, I grab my shit and move to the manager’s office to grab my key. Again. Walking back towards my room, my feet halt their movement when I see her, leaning against the door, her eyes fixed on my car. She’s caught in her own head, standing there like the living dead, eyes empty, soul seemingly extinguished. I could easily turn and walk away. She hasn't seen me, I could wait her out elsewhere and she’d eventually leave. I'm certain of it.
"Seems like you’re about an hour in the wrong direction," my voice startles her and she turns quickly to locate me.
"Jake. Baby, I can explain. I…" she rambles, moving towards me.
I ignore her advance, continuing forward to unlock my door. "Seems like I'm pretty well educated on what happened. If I had any sense of confusion, seeing David in your home surely cleared that up."
She follows me through the door without an invitation, dropping her bag on the bed, eyes lingering at the rumpled sheets. I work to ignore her presence and the effect it has on me. I want to move into her space and touch her again; taste her, feel her against me, smell her, hear her. But instead, I flick the cap off a beer and empty half the bottle down my throat in one long swallow.
"Big plans tonight then?" She gestures towards the bags of booze and I laugh humorlessly.
"Better than heading back to Carnation. Thought my shitty mood might be a bit hard to explain to say, I don't know, Annabelle. 'Sorry I seem a little messed up Annabelle, fucked Aubrey last night, thinking she was single, turns out she's not, still living happily with the dickwad Solicitor'," I recite angrily before downing the remainder of my beer.
Aubrey recoils from my words, tears threatening to spill from her eyes.
"Do not fucking cry, Aubrey. You don't get to do that to me. What I said was rude, maybe unfair and not me, but…shit, baby, I'm so fucking confused. I thought… I… FUCK! Strawb'ries, I don't even know what I think."
She nods quickly, pulling a big breath through her nose, relaxing her body on an exhale.
"Beer?" I offer with a wry smile, and she laughs, nodding her head and moving to sit on the edge of the unmade bed.
"I'm struggling to remember if you alluded to the fact that you guys were done or if I'm just telling myself I heard that to make myself feel better about it all," I start and she pulls the bottle away from her lips, using a finger to wipe away the excess moisture.
"I guess it could have been taken that way. Not trying to defend my own actions but I don't think I said that he and I were d
one…" she drifts off and I want to shake her.
"Aubrey, you told me you'd wasted years of your life with someone who doesn't love you for you and I offered to stop, numerous times, I…"
"I didn't want you to stop," she cries. "Not once, not at all. I meant what I said, Jake, last night was the best night of my life. You gave me that."
"I don't get it, Aubrey. If that’s the case, what's the problem? Go back, tell him it’s done, and start building something else," I argue, but she's already shaking her head.
"You don't understand, Jake. You’re young, you…"
"Don't you dare pull that shit on me," I cut her off and her sigh is loud.
"I didn't come here to argue, Jake. I just wanted to explain my side. I feel awful that you saw him. God, what you must think of me," she worries, rubbing her temples to rid the tension.
"I think you’re sad. I think you've settled for a life and you deserve better. David's a dick, Aubrey, and he doesn't treat you right. But in saying that, he doesn't deserve to have his woman fuck other men behind his back."
"Other men? That’s what you think of me? That I do this often?" She speaks sharply, her head lifting quickly to meet my eyes. The anger gifts me a glimpse of the Aubrey I’ve come to know over the years. The strong, unapologetic woman who owns who she is. She’s torn between the two opposing personalities vying for dominance within her. The coward and the resolute.
I shrug offhandedly.
"Then you don't know me like I thought you did. I've never cheated before; I've never even really looked at another man the way I saw… see you," she corrects herself softly, the fight I saw only seconds ago gone, replaced with defeat.
"What did he say when you left to come here?" I question, and she looks ashamed, her eyes tipping downward, watching her hands.
"He didn't even notice, Jake. I left and he haphazardly waved me out. He doesn't care."
"Then why, Strawb'ries?' I implore, moving into her space and dropping to my knees in front of her.
She doesn't answer, instead, placing her beer bottle on the ground to glide her hands along my shoulders, up my neck, and into my hair. Dropping her lips to my forehead she breathes in the scent of my hair as my hands rub along her jean-clad thighs.
"Because,” she pauses and I search her eyes trying to read what she’s not telling me. God, right in this moment I wish I could see inside the mess of her mind if only to have the ability to crush any of the justifications she seems hell bent on hanging onto. “I just… I... You couldn’t possibly understand. You have to accept that it's a decision I’ve made for myself and I have to keep it."
Stroking my thumbs under the hem of her shirt to feel the soft skin of her stomach, I’m disappointed by the lack of faith she has in me. So much so, she won’t even attempt to try and explain why. "Give me more, Aubrey. Tell me how you can justify making a decision that makes you so miserable,” I squeeze her hips lightly, exaggerating my plea.
“You don’t need to understand, J-Baby. You just have to respect my decision. Please."
Her soft hands cup my face, scanning my eyes. The pain reflected in her blue stare is caustic, and I hate it. Hate that she would feel any kind of pain. That her heartache is so great it causes her physical hurt. I find myself wanting to fix it. Wanting to comfort her and remove the burning in her soul. So I leave it. I don't push any further. I don't force my need for understanding. I don’t want to respect her decision because I don't want her to settle. I want happiness for Aubrey. I want her eyes to shine with the mischief and optimism I'm so used to seeing. Instead, the light in her soul is being slowly extinguished, flicker-by-flicker and it makes me feel violent with anger.
Aubrey's soft lips meet mine, and my will collapses with little resistance. I let her tongue explore my mouth. I let her teeth bite into my bottom lip. I let her kisses dance across my face, down my neck and back up again.
"Please, Jake," she begs. I know she's asking me not to deny her. Not tonight. She's asking for this. For the night. To have complete access to one another with no shackles. She knows that it can't move further, that tomorrow will never be a possibility either one of us can entertain, not like this. She's pleading for the fantasy of the moment, asking me not to destroy the illusion of what this is.
I wish in that moment that I were stronger. That my heart was more protected. That a steel frame would encase the organ beating rapidly in my chest. That way I could say no. That way I'd have the power to put a stop to this moving any further. I'd tell her to go home. I'd get in my car and drive back to Carnation and pretend Aubrey and I never happened. I'd drown the memories of how she felt, her taste, her touch, her sounds. I'd bury them so deep they'd have no way of finding traction in my mind ever again.
Instead I'm weak. Powerless against the way she makes me feel. My self-control is gone, worthless against the pull she now has over me. After only one night spent together and for that, I'm almost grateful. Because now I get it all again. I have the opportunity to touch her. To taste her. To feel her come for me. To watch her uninhibited and so lost in what we're doing and nothing compares. Nothing.
Pulling her boots from her feet and unbuttoning her jeans, I undress her quickly. Her hands move with mine, helping to rid herself of the confines her clothes bring. Yanking her shirt over her head, she unclasps her bra as I remove her panties.
My pace slows automatically as she sits before me completely naked. Bare for my hands, my mouth, my body to touch. Bare for me to explore every inch of her skin.
Using my palms, I stretch her thighs apart and focus on the smooth, exposed flesh of her pussy. Moving her feet up onto the edge of the bed, Aubrey spreads herself wider for me, and I groan out loud. Applying a small amount of pressure, I use the pad of my thumb to roll over her clit. She moans softly around a smile, her arms stretching back to support her weight as she watches my touch. I repeat the movement and feel her knees contract at my shoulders. She's glistening already, dampness welcoming my touch. Sliding two fingers inside her they glide in easily. Her breath comes out heavy, no other sound, bar the air escaping her lungs at the feel of my hand. I stroke the inside of her slowly, finding her sweet spot and driving her hips upward as she seeks greater pressure. Her sounds are quiet, such a stark difference from the night before. I like it, the quiet desperation of her breathing feels private. Solely meant for my ears.
Maintaining the unhurried pace of my fingers, I drop my mouth to suck lightly on her clit. "God! Yes," she chokes out, her strained whisper cracking through the room.
My tongue moves in rhythm with my fingers and aside from a few softly spoken; please, more, yes, her labored breathing is the only sound she makes. She pulsates against my fingers, along my tongue and the desperate way she closes her knees onto my shoulders tells me she's close. She comes without further warning; her back arching, pushing herself further into my mouth on a strangled cry. I lap it up. All of it. Every last shudder.
Pulling on my neck, she draws me to her mouth and our kiss is deep, wet from her release and our simultaneous groans are lost as our tongues intertwine.
We spend the night lost in touch. Each time is different. The passion changing from slow and burning to rough and fiery. I can't get enough and neither can Aubrey. We claw at one another, struggling for closeness. I feel her wanting to embed herself in my skin, become connected in a way that's impossible to sever.
As the night wears on, our desperation for each other only grows and I can sense our fear. Stopping now would mean the beginning of the end. In every shared touch, the relief throws us deeper into our attachment and we can pretend this isn't at its finale. If we give into sleep, if we fall into unconsciousness, we wake up apart. Every climax brings an overwhelming sense of dread. Was that it? The last time? So we keep going, knowing that if we don't stop, if we don't let tomorrow finally come, we can live in this moment. Remain in blissful denial for just a little longer.
Aubrey's obvious need to live inside my skin is no longer a dream or an ideal
she's fighting for. It's a reality and when finally, as the sun breaks through the drapes in this cheap motel and we give into exhaustion, our bodies and mind sated and sleep consumes us, I'm not actually sure where I begin and Aubrey ends. I feel like she has embedded herself into my soul and I can't think of a single reason I'd ever want to rid myself of that connection.
Stirring a few hours later I watch Aubrey's body move in sleep. Her breathing causing her chest to expand and contract in a rhythmic calm. She's out, her mouth slightly agape, causing a quiet click on every breath in. I consider her for close to an hour. Trying to commit every single feature, however small, to memory. Ghosting my lips across hers, I let myself taste her one last time before I leave. I don't leave a note or an explanation for my departure. She will understand, she has to. This is, after all, what she wanted.
CHAPTER THREE
Jake: Four Months Later
"Why the fuck did Annabelle have to make us wear penguin suits?" Toby bristles, tugging at the tie at his neck.
"Belle didn't make you wear anything, hippy boy. I chose the tux, it’s classic. Like Belle," Archer replies, fixing his cufflinks, rechecking his appearance in the mirror.
"Hey! What the fuck? Why's he got somethin' else on?" Toby accuses, pointing to the suspenders over my dress shirt.
"Duuude, chill. I'm wearing the same outfit as you. You won't even see these under my jacket," I reply, rolling my eyes.
Toby moves toward the door. "Grabbing a beer,” he huffs, pulling at the collar at his neck once again.
I watch as he leaves the room, amused at his tantrum. Archer and I are left in quiet after Toby closes the door and I watch silently as he completes his outfit, pulling on his jacket.
"Nervous?" I ask as he turns to face me.
"About getting married?" he queries and I nod. Archer shakes his head once in the negative, lips turned into a dismissive frown. "Nah. Just want it done. I want Belle to be my wife." He pauses for only a moment before pinning me with his stare. "You don't think she's nervous?" he questions, concern plaguing his green eyes.
