by L A Cotton
“Blake.” His name was a prayer on my lips.
I buried my hands into hair holding on for life as he continued his sweet torture of my body. Skilled fingers worked me, in and out, and his mouth pleasured me to the point of seeing nothing but bright white behind my eyes. I cried out; over and over, I panted Blake’s name. He crawled up my body and kissed me, my taste still on his lips.
“Penny.” He pushed inside of me stealing my response, filling me so completely I felt sure I would fall apart all over again. I wrapped my weak arms around his shoulders and held on for life.
After Blake had left the apartment on Friday at lunchtime, I didn’t see him again all weekend. I had back-to-back shifts, Friday evening through Sunday, serving dinner to stuffy business types at post-Thanksgiving functions in downtown Columbus. The whole time, I thought of nothing but my morning spent letting Blake love me. Nothing could dampen my high or the euphoric feelings flowing through me. Not even the reality of our situation. Maybe six months ago, I would have been waiting for the bubble to burst, for everything to crumble down around me, or I wouldn’t have risked putting myself in this kind of situation in the first place. But this time, I wanted to believe things could be different. That, finally, I was getting my shot to live out from under the shadows of my past. Blake didn’t want to marry Brittany, he didn’t love her, and I believed him.
I had to believe him.
Of course, I wasn’t foolish enough to think that the road ahead was going to be easy. Blake still had to find a way to tell his uncle without losing the only family he had left. He loved them—Uncle Anthony and Aunt Miranda—and it showed in his voice every time he talked about them. Although his relationship with his uncle was strained, I didn’t want to be the one who came between them.
You know you will be. Anthony Weston will never accept you. I silenced the little voice in my head. Blake said he would handle it, and I had to give him the time and space to do that. As long as I didn’t cross paths with Brittany anytime soon, I could be strong for him.
For us.
I watched the city rush by in a blur of lights as I rode the bus back to my neighborhood. Three long shifts and I was ready for a break. My feet burned, there was grime embedded in my skin and hair, and I missed Blake. Forty-eight hours apart had felt like a lifetime. I now understood what people meant when they said they couldn’t stand to be without their partner. My heart was lost without him; a feeling I’d switched off for the last seven years.
Blake had awakened me, and I didn’t ever want it to end.
My cell vibrated in my purse setting off butterflies in my stomach.
I can’t get away tonight. Sorry. I love you. Blake x
Disappointment flooded me. Blake had said he didn’t know if he would be able to make it to see me tonight, but deep down, I had hoped he would find a way. I pocketed my cell, made my way off the bus, and started in the direction of The Oriental Garden. My pocket buzzed and excitement bubbled up. Maybe Blake had found a way to come.
“Hello,” I said not even checking the screen.
“What the hell is going on, Penny?”
“Marissa?” I asked taken aback at her stern words.
“Yes, it’s me. Tell me it isn’t true?”
“True? Is what true? You need to spell it out for me, Marissa, because right now, I have no idea what you are talking about.” I sighed picking up the pace. The snow had stopped, but temperatures were still well below freezing.
“You and Blake.”
Me and Blake? My mind immediately went into overdrive wondering how she could possibly know.
“Why am I getting cryptic messages from Blake asking me to watch over you over the next couple of weeks? Watch over you? Penny, why the hell do I have to watch over you? What the fuck has he done?”
“Whoa, slow down, Marissa. It’s not what you think-”
“It’s not?” Her voice wasn’t calming down any. “So what is it then? Did that fucker hurt you again? Because I have no problem driving down there.”
“Marissa, calm down. Blake didn’t do anything to hurt me.”
The line went silent for a second, and then she said, “He didn’t? So why-”
“We slept together.”
“WHAT IN HOLY HELL’S NAME DO YOU MEAN YOU SLEPT WITH HIM?”
I held the phone away from my ear out of fear it might do permanent damage. Even slipping the phone into my pocket did little to reduce the sound of Marissa’s shrills coming through the line.
“PENNY? PENNY WILSON, ANSWER ME RIGHT NOW.”
“Hello.” I rounded the alleyway and dug into my purse to retrieve my keys.
“Did you put the phone down?”
“Maybe. You were really loud.” Treading carefully up the icy stairs, I balanced the phone between the crook of my neck and my ear. I quickly unlocked the door and hurried inside to get out of the cold.
“You can’t just drop something like that on me and expect me not to lose my shit. Christ, Penny, what were you thinking? You do remember he’s engaged, right? Betrothed. Promised to another. Shit, Penny.”
Guilt knocked at my conscience, but I refused to let her in. I would not feel guilty about what happened between Blake and me. It was real and pure, and even though Blake’s engagement overshadowed it, it was all I’d ever wanted. I couldn’t regret that—I wouldn’t.
“He loves me,” I said without hesitation.
“Now, she realizes that,” Marissa moaned. “Did I or did I not tell you that? What changed?”
“I love him too.”
“Has anyone ever told you that your telephone manners suck? Well, durrrr, of course, you love him. You’re like each other’s lobsters or something.” Her Friends reference lifted some of the heavy, and I laughed softly. “He doesn’t love her, Marissa. It’s all a front. His uncle wants him to marry her. Family politics…” I inhaled deeply to give myself a second to collect my thoughts, but Marissa beat me to it.
“So how is it being the other woman?”
“Marissa!”
“What? I need to know this kind of thing. I’m your best friend. Was it good? The sex, I mean. Was it toe-curling, sweaty, heart-exploding good? Oh, tell me it was.”
“I’m really uncomfortable right now.”
She tutted. “Of course, you are. But back to the sex. It was good, right? I’m right, aren’t I? Blake looks like he’d be a sure thing in the sack.”
Everything.
It was everything.
The words were on the tip of my tongue, but I found myself saying, “Nice, it was… really nice.”
“Nice? Penny, we really need to work on your sharing skills. I need details, girl, not nice. Nice is bunnies and fluffy clouds. I want to know if your world exploded.”
I settled down on my couch and smiled. My life was finally falling into place. I had a job I enjoyed working at with people I liked. I had a good friend in Marissa. She pushed me to open up and trust her, and I loved her for it. My anxiety didn’t define my life anymore. It no longer controlled me; I controlled it. And then there was Blake. The one person who knew me better than anyone else did, maybe even myself. It all felt too good to be true.
“This girl doesn’t kiss and tell,” I said with a hint of amusement in my voice.
Marissa snorted. “Wait until I see you. I’ll get it out of you. You’d better watch out, Penny Wilson. But seriously, things are okay?”
“They are.”
“So what, Blake’s just going to tell his uncle and piranha bitch that he’s out? I hate to be the voice of doom here, but that’s never going to happen. You know that, right? That’s obviously why Blake texted me because he knows shit is about to hit the fan.”
My eyes fluttered shut.
I should have listened to the little voice in my head.
It was always right.
If things seemed too good to be true… they usually were.
Age 22
“Congratulations, honey. We’re so proud of you.” Aunt M
iranda beamed as she hugged me tight and kissed my cheek.
“Welcome to the real world, son.”
I winced. I hated when he called me that, but Uncle Anthony and I had reached an understanding in our relationship somewhere over the last four years. Maybe it had to do with me not living under his roof or maybe it was the fact he paid my way through school and had given me more than I’d ever had—could ever dream of.
“Thank you.” I hugged my aunt back and nodded at Anthony over her shoulder. I would thank him properly, man to man, but right now, all I wanted to do was get out of this ridiculous gown and celebrate.
“Brittany, sweetheart.” Aunt Miranda released me and met Brittany with open arms. “You look beautiful. Congratulations.” She pulled her into a hug, and Brittany’s parents, Trent and Sandi, came around to congratulate me.
“Son, congratulations.” Trent took my hand in his firm grip and shook it. “We couldn’t be more proud of the two of you. And thank you for looking after our girl these last four years.” He winked; the fucker actually winked.
Brittany sidled up to her father and smiled up at him. “Daddy,” she crooned. “What have I told you? Blake and I are just friends.”
“Baby, I would be proud to call a fine young man such as Blake my son. Now, don’t you two have somewhere to be?”
Son? What the fuck?
I was still gaping at Trent when Brittany slipped her arm through mine and tugged me away, waving at her parents and my aunt and uncle.
“Did your dad actually just suggest we get married?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Blake. He was just kidding. You know they’d love us to get together.” She leaned in close as we walked toward the rest of our friends. “Although, we could celebrate tonight, you know, if you wanted to.”
“Brit,” I warned. It had happened twice. Okay, maybe three times, but I was always wasted, and she was usually rebounding from her latest boyfriend.
“What? I’m horny, and when was the last time you got laid?”
“I get laid.”
“Oh, okay then, who was she?”
“Some girl.” I shrugged; I was starting to feel pissed that she was pushing this.
“Some girl,” she mocked. “There was no girl, Blake. Such a waste,” Brittany mumbled under her breath.
We reached our crowd, and I shook her off me. I didn’t need any of the guys giving me shit over her as well. I had enough on my plate with Trent and Uncle Anthony.
“What’s up, guys?” Devon, one of our friends, said, pulling me in for a guy hug.
“We’re ready to party, man, and I need to get out of this dress.”
Everyone burst into laughter, and we headed back to our shared house to change.
“Shit, man, Brit is wasted.” Devon tipped his beer in the direction of where the girls were dancing. The plan had been civilized drinks and dinner at Brindley’s Brasserie. Uncle Anthony had made reservations for the eight of us, but the drinks flowed and before long, we were being ushered through the VIP entrance of Cashmere’s. It was full of students celebrating graduation, but we had our own private booth and waiter service.
“Yeah,” I groaned. “Maybe she’ll hook up with someone and I can sneak out without playing babysitter.”
“Dude, she’s had a boner for you since freshmen year.”
I scrubbed a hand over my jaw as my eyes watched the girls roll and pop their hips to the beat. Brittany was beautiful, no denying that. She had filled into her looks over the last four years. Killer curves, perfect rack. But what she had in physicality, she lacked in personality. College had mellowed her somewhat, but deep down, Brittany was as artificial and fake as the rest of the rich girls in our section of the club.
“Never going to happen,” I said taking a long pull of my beer.
“Your loss, man. Your loss.”
I shook my head with a smirk. These guys were my friends, but I still didn’t feel like one of them. Sure, I’d adapted to the money and the extravagance of life in Upper Arlington, but it wasn’t me. Not deep down. Not when I’d been the kid with nothing, the kid cold and hungry waiting for his mom to sober up and feed him.
“When do you leave for camp?”
“Not until June tenth. I can’t wait. Out there all the shit in here,” I tapped my head, “just disappears, you know.”
“I’m not sure I could do it, man. All those brats and not to mention the bugs. Ugh.” Devon shuddered, and I laughed. “It’s Hocking Hills, Dev. It isn’t Outer Mongolia.”
“Blake.” Brittany and the girls sauntered over; dressed head to toe in designer dresses and matching accessories, they left a trail of drooling guys watching after them.
“Easy, Brit.” I held her at arm’s length as she tried to slide onto my lap.
“Come on, relax. Have fun. Celebrate with me.” She pouted and leaned forward a little giving me a good eyeful of her tits.
“I’m always available, Brit. Just hop on over here.” Devon grinned that shit-eating grin of his and patted his lap. Brittany frowned before rolling her eyes. “I wouldn’t touch you if you were the last man alive, Devon.”
“Ouch,” he responded clutching his heart pretending to be wounded.
Brittany gave in and shimmied between us before reaching for her cocktail. Her hand slipped and the glass went crashing to the floor. “Shit.”
“Nice one, Brit.” I couldn’t hide the irritation in my voice. Her fumble had drawn attention to us; the thing I hated most.
“Sorry, maybe I’m a little more drunk than I thought. Take me home?”
“I can make sure y-”
I reached around Brittany’s slender frame and squeezed Devon’s shoulder. “Never happening, Dev. Might as well give it up.”
“Never.” He grinned at me. Have you seen her tits? he mouthed behind her back.
Shaking my head, I stood and offered my hand to Brittany. “Come on, let’s go.”
“Why don’t you want me?” Brittany blurted out in the back of the cab. I eyed the cabbie, but he didn’t seem to be listening.
“Brit, you’re drunk, and it’s late. Let’s not do this now.”
She leaned her head on my shoulder and sighed. I thought she had fallen asleep. Apparently not.
“We’d be so good together, Blake, and it would please our parents. You know they want us to make it official. Join together two of the most influential families in Upper Arlington. It would be perfect. We’d be perfect…” Her voice trailed off, and her breathing evened out. Brittany was asleep.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want her; I just didn’t feel anything for her. She was a friend, but my uncle had forced even that. Aunt Miranda seemed indifferent about whether we dated, but on more than one occasion in the last three years, Uncle Anthony had tried to set us up.
I was partly to blame. After that first kiss on the night of my eighteenth birthday, I think I gave Brittany false hope that we would end up together. But the truth was I couldn’t make myself feel something I didn’t feel.
My heart belonged to another; it always would.
I paid the cabbie and lifted Brittany out of the taxicab. Our shared house was on the outskirts of University District. A modern two-story, four-bedroom house with a small pool and awesome roof terrace—just another way Uncle Anthony had sweetened the deal for me to attend Ohio State instead of applying to schools outside of Ohio. Attending college hadn’t even been on the radar back when I lived in Lancaster, and for as much as I hated my life in Columbus sometimes, I couldn’t deny that my aunt and uncle opened up doors for me and my future.
In some ways, it was as if I was two people: The Blake I showed to my uncle and aunt and all of their rich friends, and then there was the Blake I was in private. The Blake who still dreamed of nights under the stars in No Man’s Land and a future with a girl who stole his heart when she was just twelve.
Maybe I should have pushed harder. Maybe I should have packed a bag, driven out to Lancaster, and demanded to see Penny. But in the e
nd, I was weak. I let my uncle dictate the rules and I fell in line. Even when I received Penny’s card, even after I kissed Brittany, I still wanted to go and find her. To track Penny down. Uncle Anthony had tracked me down for Christ’s sake—I was pretty certain his resources could find anyone eventually. But somewhere along the line, I gave up. I accepted my fate and played the role expected of me. The only thing I had was Camp Chance—my sliver of normal among my life of fake.
My uncle had originally sent me to volunteer at the summer camp for foster kids in Hocking Hills as punishment for the final time I had tried to sneak out and see Penny. But my uncle underestimated my love of the outdoors and my patience with the teen boys I was there to guide. I saw so much of myself in those kids that after that first summer, I begged Troy, the owner-manager, to let me return the following summer. It had taken some persuading with my uncle, but Aunt Miranda stepped in and he came around. She felt it was good for me to have time away from the family business, and I think she was worried it would only push me further away if my uncle didn’t agree. This year would mark my fifth season out at Camp Chance, and I couldn’t wait. The sooner I was away from my uncle and Brittany and all of the shit that being a Weston brought with it, the better. My name didn’t matter in a place like that.
All that mattered was who I was.
“Blake, I think I’m going to hurl.” Brittany retched, and I scooped her up and rushed to the bathroom, Camp Chance suddenly feeling like a whole world away.
Brittany slid out of my arms and crumpled to the floor, pushing her head down the toilet. I stood outside waiting as she deposited her stomach contents into the bowl. When she stopped puking, I offered her a wet towel and some water.
“Thanks. I think I’m dying.” She held an arm over her head.
“You’re not. Come on, I’ll tuck you in,” I half-mocked. It wasn’t the first time I’d played nursemaid to Brittany. She had a tendency to go overboard on Bellini’s or Long Island Iced Teas or whatever the hell she felt like drinking. I wouldn’t say she had a problem, but she enjoyed a drink. Part of me wondered if it was her way to cope with the pressures bestowed on her by her family. I shut down, and Brittany got wasted.
