The Other One

by Jiffy Kate

  Hearing her yell my name sends me over the edge, and I come harder than I have in years, the result of my orgasm covering Loren’s stomach.

  After my breathing stabilizes, I start to move, intending to get a warm washcloth for to clean her up, but she stops me.

  “Don’t leave this bed.” Her words don’t have much strength behind them since she’s practically falling asleep as she says them, but still, I obey, only moving to cover us up with my blanket before succumbing to sleep myself.

  Waves are crashing around me as rain falls from the gray sky. A vision of white floats ahead in the water, and I strain to keep my eyes focused on it. At first, I’m not sure what it is I’m watching, but I know deep inside my bones that I need it. My dark clothes are heavy, soaked, and stuck to my frame. It’s difficult to move through the ocean, but I command my muscles to push me forward, my only goal being to reach the white object.

  It feels like an eternity has passed when I finally arrive at what I now can see is gauzy white material. My body aches, and I’m out of breath, but still my arm is outstretched, reaching for my prize. The cotton slips through my fingers, so I grab again, this time finding something firm yet delicate.

  A hand.

  I tighten my grasp and pull, not stopping until a female form is cradled in my arms. Rejuvenated by my find, I waste no time walking back to the beach, each step lighter than the one before it. I lay her down and move the thick wet hair away from her face, revealing the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.

  Without another thought, I place a kiss on her mouth and whisper, “You’re safe now.”

  My dream is fresh in my mind when I wake up, and I use this quiet time to analyze it further. I’ve never been one to put much stock into dreams, but this recurring one is different. It’s shown a progression between the dream-me and the girl in white that parallels my relationship with Loren. With my previous dreams, I’ve always felt scared . . . unsure when I awakened, but not today. Today, I feel comforted, as though I’m exactly where I should be . . . where we should be.

  I gaze down at Loren sleeping beside me, and I know without a doubt she’s the one I rescued in my dream. But the truth is, she’s the one who’s saved me.

  Moments later, I have a plan. I feel bad for waking Loren up and making her get dressed, but I’m too keyed up to stop myself. I need to show her how serious I am about her . . . about us . . . and that I want to move forward in my recovery. With her.

  “Where are we going?” she asks, slipping her arms into her jacket.

  “You’ll see.”

  Once we’re both bundled up, I lead Loren downstairs and to the garage. She seems to know what’s behind the door, and I hear her suck in a deep breath as it rolls open, exposing the Impala.

  It hurts my heart to see my car in this condition, but I only have myself to blame.

  “The wreck did all of this?” she asks.

  “No, I did most of this the night you told me about PJ . . . the night I realized our wrecks were the same.” I turn away from her, shame covering my face. “Ben had worked on it from time to time, trying to fix it for me. I ruined all of his hard work.”

  The feel of her hand on my back warms me, and I swallow the lump in my throat before turning to face Loren again. “I need you to push me when I need it, but I also need you to catch me when I fall. I’m gonna mess up.” Her arms wrap around my waist in reply. “You once said PJ taught you about cars and how to fix them up.” I pause, gauging her reaction. “Will you help me fix my car?”

  A single tear slips from her eye as she nods emphatically. “Of course, Tripp.”

  I’ve made her cry. Shit. Maybe this is too much, too soon. Maybe this will be too painful for her.

  “I’m sorry, baby. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I should’ve thought more about how this will affect you and your own healing. We don’t have to fix the car now. It can wait until we’re both ready, I promise.”

  I cradle her face, ensuring she sees the sincerity in my eyes, and I pray she believes me. Her hands cover mine, and she’s smiling through her tears.

  “Thank you for thinking of me, Tripp, but I’m ready. I swear. I think we both need this.”

  My shoulders sag with relief, and I’m suddenly exhausted, needing more sleep that the few hours we’ve had. Loren must have a sixth sense, because she simply takes my hand and leads me back upstairs without another word. She undresses me, down to my boxers, and then she does the same. We both crawl under the cool sheets and she wraps her arms around me, holding me. I pull her to me, as close as possible, loving the way her bare skin feels against mine.

  And we sleep.

  And it’s the best sleep I’ve had in months.

  Tripp

  “HERE,” LOREN SAYS, sitting on the chair across the room from me, staring at her laptop. “This junkyard out in Kenner says they have a lot of parts for cars from the ’60s and ’70s, specializing in Chevy models. We should call them and see if they have the side mirror or the front fender we still need.”

  “But that’s all the way out in Kenner. It’s too far.” I roll over in my bed and place the book I’ve been reading on my nightstand.

  “It’s not too far if we drive.” She continues to stare at the computer, waiting for me to respond. She already knows how I feel about driving . . . or riding for that matter.

  “Not an option.” I feel bad shutting her down so quickly, but I can’t do that. I’m not ready. “I’m sure they’ll show up at a junkyard closer to town.”

  “And we might be waiting a year for that to happen!” She closes the screen to her laptop roughly, shoving it into her bag. “You said you want to get back to driving. This is the first step.”

  “I don’t know,” I tell her, because just thinking about getting into a vehicle makes my heart beat faster, my palms start sweating, and my throat feels like it’s closing in.

  “You can’t live your life in fear, Tripp. It’s not healthy. No one knows what’s going to happen from moment to moment or day to day, but would you really want to?” She pauses, looking over at me with her deep brown eyes. Her hair is in a messy bun on top of her head, and she looks gorgeous. I want her. I want everything with her. “Are you even listening to me?” she asks, her brows furrowing.

  “Yes.”

  “What did I say?”

  “I can’t live my life in fear . . . and then . . . Well, I’m not sure, because I got distracted by how sexy you look sitting over there with your hair all messy, wearing my sweatshirt.”

  A pillow makes direct contact with my head, causing me to laugh.

  “You’re incorrigible,” she huffs.

  “You’re adorable when you’re mad.”

  “I’m not mad.”

  “Okay, well, whatever you are, it’s cute.”

  She tries so hard not to smile but fails miserably.

  “I should go. I promised Grace that I would be around tonight to celebrate Christmas with her before she goes home.”

  “I wish I could walk you home.”

  “Well, I drove since I knew it’d be late.”

  “You could stay the night.”

  “I’m not going to be one of those girls who ditches her friends when she gets a boyfriend.” She smirks over at me as she finishes packing up her books. I hate when she doesn’t sleep over. It’s strange, though, because I’ve never shared a bed with anyone before, but it feels like something’s missing now when she’s not here. Hopefully, after tomorrow, she’ll be all mine until Christmas break is over. That’s a solid three weeks of good sleep and alone time. I can’t wait.

  “I’ll at least walk you to your car.” I grab her overstuffed backpack and toss it over my shoulder.

  I close the door behind me on our way out, and I nearly bump into her as she pauses at the top step. For a second, I think she’s possibly changed her mind. She turns to me, leaning into my chest and gripping my shirt.

  “Think about what I said.” She places a soft kiss on my jaw before tur
ning around and making her way down the steps.

  She doesn’t have to say another word. I know what she means, and I will think about it. For her.

  I’d do anything for her.

  I wish I didn’t have to work today. Loren’s roommate, Grace, left this morning for Christmas break, which means that Loren is all mine for a few weeks. I would love to be spending the day with her instead of waiting tables.

  “Order up!” Shawn calls from the other side of the counter.

  As I load up my tray, Julie comes into the kitchen carrying a bucket of dirty dishes. She has a ridiculous Santa hat on her head and a cheesy grin on her face. Apparently, Christmas is her favorite holiday. Who would’ve guessed that under all that dark hair and dark eyes and back-alley smoking habits, is a Christmas enthusiast?

  “Need help with those?” she asks, motioning to my overloaded tray.

  “Nah, I’m good.” I carefully lift the tray and balance it on my shoulder as I back out of the kitchen. Before the door swings shut, I catch a glimpse of Shawn whacking Julie’s hat with a spatula. I’d always wondered if there was something between the two of them. I smirk to myself, knowing that when guys tease girls, it usually means they’re into them. Good for them.

  While I’m serving the large table, I hear the bell chime above the door. A familiar buzz flows through my body, and when I turn around to see chocolate-brown eyes and windswept hair, a smile breaks across my face. She looks like a fantasy that just blew through the door.

  My fantasy.

  A sight for sore eyes.

  And a very welcomed surprise.

  As quickly as possible, I finish up with the table I’m serving, asking if they need anything else. One lady needs some butter, and another dropped her fork. I try to keep a pleasant look on my face as I tell them I’ll be right back, but I want to tell them to get it themselves. My girl just walked through the door.

  My Ania.

  When I walk back out into the café, I see she’s sitting at a small table for two on the opposite side from where she normally sits. She places her bag down by her feet and looks up, finding me across the room, smiling brightly.

  “Welcome to The Crescent Moon,” I say as I walk up to her table.

  “Thank you,” she replies, going along with the ruse.

  “Can I get you anything? Tea or coffee, perhaps?”

  She purses her lips, trying to hide her smile as she looks at the menu. “I think I’ll have a hot tea with lemon and honey, please.”

  I can’t hide the smile on my face. It’s impossible. Just the fact she’s here is huge. I didn’t expect it, and it’s making my palms kinda sweaty, and the marching band in my chest is in full swing. I want to lean down and kiss the shit out of her, but I can’t.

  I take the few minutes while I’m getting her tea to calm down and collect myself. I don’t need to get fired for indecent exposure right before Christmas. That would suck.

  Sliding the steaming cup of tea in front of her, I take the liberty of sitting in the empty chair. “Is someone sitting here?” I ask, keeping up the charade.

  “I was hoping you would.” Her eyes are hooded as she blows on her tea. It’s too much to handle. I discreetly adjust myself and thank God for the tablecloth that’s hiding my uncomfortable situation. She has no idea what she’s doing to me. When I look back up, she has a sly smile on her face.

  Maybe she does.

  “So, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

  “I was missing you.”

  The drumming in my chest is louder and more pronounced. “The feeling is mutual.”

  “Grace left, and I was looking around my mostly empty dorm room and couldn’t think of anything to do, so I came here. Besides, I needed to apologize for pushing you so hard yesterday.”

  I reach across the table and grab her hand. “You don’t need to apologize for that. I told you to push me, and you did . . . and I’m glad.”

  “You’re not mad at me?”

  “Of course not.”

  “So, we’re good?”

  “We’re so good,” I smirk, rubbing circles on the palm of her hand.

  She clears her throat, but her eyes stay glued to where our hands are on the table. “How much longer until you get off work?”

  I look at the large clock on the wall that reads four o’clock. “I get off at six today, so a couple more hours.”

  “Mind if I occupy a space?”

  “I can’t think of anything I want more at the moment. Well, there might be . . .”

  “Get back to work.” The blush on her cheeks tells me she knows where that thought was going. When I stand up, I lean over and place a chaste kiss on the side of her mouth. Her audible exhale tells me she’s thinking the same thing.

  I check on her periodically over the next couple of hours. She ordered a sandwich, and for whatever reason, that made me happy. I guess seeing her happy is what makes me happy, knowing she’s not here to feel guilty or punish herself . . . or whatever she was doing.

  From the first moment I laid eyes on her, all I wanted was for her not to be sad. To think I may be the reason for her happiness is overwhelming. I have so much love for her. It scares me sometimes. Everything is going so well, almost too well, and I feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop . . . something to trip us up. The last few years of my life have been like that. Just when I get to a good spot, something comes along to ruin it. I can’t let that happen with Loren. I want her with me always.

  Glancing over at her from across the room, a new surge of want and need bubbles up. The last few minutes of my shift can’t end fast enough. I want to be near her, touch her, feel her. She sees me and smiles as she slips her book into her bag.

  Wyatt must realize my anxious behavior because I notice him smirking at me from where he’s standing in the back of the café. He nods his head in the direction of the kitchen, telling me it’s okay to leave. I don’t waste any time. Ripping my apron off, I hurriedly hang it on the hook and jet out the back door, yelling my goodbyes as I go.

  When I round the corner, she’s standing there under the streetlamp, by our bench, exactly where I thought she’d be. Her long hair hangs loosely down her back, and her hands grip the straps of her backpack. Everything about this moment is similar to so many moments before, but something is also different. Maybe it’s the fact I know I love her, and I know she loves me. I hope she knows just how much I love her.

  My dad always told me that the best way to tell someone you love them is by showing them. And the best way I can think to show Loren right now is to let her know I trust her and I want to get better for myself, but also for us.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey,” she says, standing on her tiptoes and pulling me closer. She places a searing kiss on my lips and I open my mouth to allow her access, my hands instinctually going for her perfect ass, gripping her cheeks.

  “Did you drive?” I ask into her mouth, needing her to say no, because I don’t want to let her go.

  “No,” she says, pulling away to look into my eyes. “I walked. I wanted to be able to walk with you.”

  I smile at her and take her hand into mine, loving how it fits so perfectly, and we begin to walk in silence, enjoying the cool evening breeze.

  When we turn down the block and start heading north, no longer blocked from the crisp air, Loren latches onto my shoulder with her other hand, leaning her head on my arm. I bend my head down and kiss the top of her head, inhaling deeply.

  “I’ve been thinking . . .” I start, swallowing the flood of nervousness I get from what I’m about to agree to, but knowing I need to do this.

  Loren tenses a little beside me, before asking, “About what?”

  “I’ll ride with you . . . out to Kenner,” I tell her, forcing the words out of my mouth and forcing my body not to react.

  She stops in the middle of the sidewalk, pulling me to a stop with her. “Tripp, I meant what I said at the café. Don’t do this if you’re not ready. I’m sorry
for pushing so hard.”

  “I meant what I just said too. I want to ride with you. I’m ready.”

  “I see the nervousness in your eyes. I don’t want this to be a setback for you.”

  “I can’t make any promises that it won’t be, but I want to try.” I frame her face with my hands, tilting it up so that she’s looking me in the eye. “I want to do this . . . I want to show you how much I want to get better . . . for you . . . for me . . . for us. Just promise me you won’t leave me if things go to shit.”

  “Never,” she says, shaking her head adamantly. “I’m not going anywhere. You believe me, right?” She laughs lightly, but grows more serious when I don’t answer right away.

  “Yes? No?” I say, smiling. “Of course, I do.”

  “I love you.”

  Those words leaving her lips cause me to press mine to hers. “I love you.” Our noses touch and her breath is warm on my face, causing the familiar burn to build in my stomach.

  “Stay the night with me?”

  “Of course.”

  I feel like sweeping her off her feet and running the two blocks to my house. She laughs when I grab her hand and take off speed walking.

  When we finally get inside my apartment, I kick my shoes off at the door and quickly begin peeling off the layers, tossing my jacket on the chair and unbuttoning my flannel. I look up to see Loren mimicking my actions. The need and want on her face are evident. I still don’t feel like we’re ready for sex, but it doesn’t mean we can’t be together. It doesn’t mean I can’t bring her pleasure. I’ve found various ways to accomplish that, and I’m pleased to know I haven’t lost my finesse. The cocky teenager I once was surfaces now and then. It’s inside me—part of who I am, and I can’t help it. But I’m learning to like the new me . . . a mixture of who I once was and who I’m becoming.

  When Loren has her jacket, shoes, and sweater off, she walks over to me, toying with the buttons on my jeans. “I’ve been thinking about being alone with you since I had to leave last night.”