by Amelia Betts
“Hey, Dawn?” I grasped her padded shoulder lightly, not wanting to abandon her but unable to stay in that room for one more second. “I’m sorry. I’ve gotta get to a bathroom. I’m about to burst.”
She nodded sweetly as I gave a perfunctory wave goodbye and snuck out the door, fully aware that I was acting like a coward. Befriending a person like Dawn could have been the best thing for me at a time like this, but I was in no mood for reform. That was the thing about me and OA—we had a complicated relationship.
The church’s vast parking lot was the same one where I’d first spoken to Liam, and pathetically enough, I had parked in the exact same spot. I had done it subconsciously, out of the desire to run into him again no doubt, while telling myself I was going to avoid him at all costs. In keeping with the latter, I made a direct beeline to my car, eyes on the black asphalt that smelled like it had been freshly paved.
I allowed myself only one glance in the direction of Chapel A as I cut through the lot and saw a small group of men gathered on the sidewalk, smoking cigarettes and talking. I noticed the uniform posture they all seemed to have, with their backs arched and butts jutted out in a slightly vulgar way, the exact opposite of the slouched-over OAers, who were always trying to make themselves smaller by rounding out their shoulders and drawing their arms in tight. On the first glance, I didn’t see Liam, but as I got closer, I looked once more and made out his silhouette—he was wearing the same black jeans as before with a fitted, black leather motorcycle jacket. His back was turned, allowing me to take in his lean, perfect figure. A full-body longing to run to him, tell him how much I’d thought about him over the past two weeks, overcame me, but I did the opposite and veered away like a coward. When I had almost reached my car, I heard footsteps but shook off the hope that it could be him. I was better off if it wasn’t, right?
“Well, well, well. What have we here?” the person belonging to the footsteps called after me, his accent unmistakable. “Were you just gonna walk past me and not say anything?”
My heart pounded wildly at the sound of his voice. I turned to him with a guilty smile that gave me away. “Hi. I didn’t see you. I was just at a meeting,” I said. “The right one, this time.”
“Oh yeah? You sure you’re not a crazy Baptist? I hear they guard the crucifixion here, like in twenty-four-hour shifts.”
I laughed, remembering that on top of being beautiful and successful, he was also naturally funny. “Yeah, no. In my four years of living here, I haven’t found Jesus. Probably never gonna happen.” I bit my lip self-consciously, trying not to smile, but Liam’s own smile made it hard. A quick flashback to me running away from his restaurant made me shudder and I shook my head, hoping to physically remove the thought from my brain.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing. Umm…” I searched for something to say, unsuccessfully, as footsteps scuffled up behind me. I turned to find an older man in reading glasses whom I’d seen patting Liam’s shoulder at the meeting the week before.
“Hey there,” he said. “I’m Bobby.” He touched his chest to identify himself, sounding chipper but stern.
“Hi, I’m Mischa.” I reached my hand out, but Bobby ignored it. Something told me it wasn’t the reading glasses’ fault.
He established himself at Liam’s side and gripped his shoulder, Bobby’s proprietary palm making a subtle squeaking noise against the leather jacket. “I’m Liam’s sponsor. How do you two know each other?”
“We don’t really,” I said, getting the feeling that I was in trouble for some unknown trespass. It was like the high school hall monitor had asked to see my bathroom pass, and the answer was I most certainly didn’t have one. Perhaps this was fate stepping in—fate in the form of a punishing older man with bad style. When Liam didn’t immediately come to my defense, I announced that I should be going. “It was nice to see you!” I said, my eyes on Liam. “And nice to meet you, Bobby,” I added, my real smile quickly warping into a fake one. Bobby responded with a smirk, then ushered Liam, who looked a little dumbstruck, back to the smokers’ circle.
I turned to my car, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. If there were a wall handy, I would have knocked my head against it. Liam’s sponsor, that glorified hall monitor of a man, had clocked me from who knows how far away and decided I was some random slut threatening to end his sponsee’s latest streak of sobriety, and now Liam was probably convinced of the same thing.
Nachos and ice cream will fix this, I promised myself as I turned on the car. Nachos and ice cream.
Chapter Six
In the many hours of television I’d watched growing up in Eagle Grove, I had been exposed to multiple viewings of a local commercial for the Fort Dodge Fast N’ Furious Family Fun Center. It was the kind of establishment that had laser tag and go-karts and batting cages and arcade games, and also the kind of place that had filmed one commercial back in 1987 and saw fit to use it for the rest of eternity. In said commercial, there was a young boy who flitted from one activity to another, shouting at the top of his lungs, “I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS IS MY LIFE!” After the first few times I had seen it, I had been certain that something horrible was bound to befall this boy—that nothing was ever that good, and if you can’t believe your life, then you’re most likely on the precipice of some terrible tragedy. Although I hadn’t really thought about it until now, I’d been buzzing the last couple of weeks from the promise of Liam, in that “I can’t believe this is my life!” kind of way, when really¸ I should have suspected that it was too good to be true. Even as a television-addicted child, fully steeped in the imaginary worlds of my favorite shows and movies, I had innately known that life is not all go-karts and batting cages.
The streets were quiet as I drove home from the meeting at the Baptist church. To ensure I would spend the least amount of time possible in the Maxwells’ kitchen, hoping not to get caught by body-snarking Cecile or, worse, Julien, I planned my nacho-making in advance, envisioning where all of the ingredients were and in what order I would add them before nuking them in the microwave. The gallon of strawberry ice cream I had shoved behind Julien’s frozen peas and berries was already half eaten, so I would be able to finish that without having to return it to the freezer. Sadly, these kinds of thoughts were the nitpicking obsessions that had taken up the better part of my brain for as long as I could remember: what I would eat next, where I would get it, how I would make it, when and how to dispose of the evidence.
Only when I was a few blocks from Julien’s did I stop building nachos in my mind long enough to notice a speeding car coming up behind me. It followed as I turned onto the dimly lit residential street that I now called home, and when I pulled over and parked by the curb, it stopped directly behind me, headlights flickering in a bright flash before turning off. My heart began to race. I fumbled for my cell phone and swiped at the screen. When the emergency call button illuminated, I let my thumb hover over it. Then, in a matter of seconds, I recognized Liam’s black leather jacket in my side mirror as he emerged from his car.
I gasped. He had somehow broken away from the watchful eye of Bobby, and more unbelievable than that, cared enough to pursue me after our conversation had been quashed. After all the missed opportunities, it felt like an actual miracle to see his reflection coming toward me. Of course a disapproving voice popped into my head, arguing that it was no miracle at all, that he was a sex addict and this is what addicts do, but that was no longer enough to deter me. My desire for him was unstoppable, unlike anything I’d ever felt before. I got out of the car to intercept him, not wanting him to glimpse the crumpled fast-food bags that littered my passenger seat, and asked incredulously, “What are you doing here?” even though the answer was obvious. Without a word, Liam kept walking toward me, and I nervously looked down and tugged at my shirt hem, simultaneously scared and excited because I knew this was it—this time I wasn’t going to run.
The minute he was within arm’s reach, Liam was backing me against my car, plant
ing his hands on the hood to trap me in. It was like a plane crash, the way it happened all of a sudden, as if our bodies were set to collide and our minds had nothing to do with it. Without warning, I felt his mouth on mine, his tongue moving past my lips. Excited prickles nipped along the surface of my skin as I kissed him back, grabbing at the back of his neck like I was hungry for him. His mouth tasted faintly, deliciously, of whisky, and the day-old scruff on his chin tickled my face. He started to lift me up against the car, but I struggled to keep my feet on the ground.
“Maybe we should go somewhere,” I said halfheartedly. But when he backed away, I reached out and drew him in again.
“Tell me you want me,” he said, his pelvis grinding into mine. I could feel his half-formed erection against my hip bone, reminding me of the time the sailing instructor had pressed himself against me at the bar.
“I want you,” I said, hardly able to believe that the Liam of my daydreams was now here, in the flesh. I pulled him in for another kiss, relishing the taste of him, our tongues teasing into each other’s mouths. Finally, I became conscious of the fact that we were right in front of my boss’s house. “Not here,” I said, glancing at Julien’s car in the driveway.
Liam kissed my neck ravenously, and I responded by planting my hands against his hips to hold him back. “Then where?” he said.
“Uh…” I looked over, surveying the scene at Julien’s house. There was a gate around the side that would take us to the guesthouse, but I didn’t want to risk being seen or heard. I searched my brain for alternatives while Liam reached his hand inside the waistband of my jean shorts and over my underwear.
“I wanna fuck you so hard.”
Wait, fuck? Already? For a split second, I had forgotten the reality of who Liam was. Things were moving fast, but I didn’t want him to stop either.
“You want me, don’t you? I got your lacy panties all wet.” He spoke at half volume into my ear as he began to move his hand against my sex, lifting my entire body up as he brought his hand forward, then inching me back down. I let myself give in, forgetting where I was. My head dropped back and I gazed at the stars as I felt his hands, cool against my skin. His touch was perfect, like he knew my body through and through. I had dreamed about this, awake, asleep, semiconscious, but the real-life version was better than anything I could have imagined. Liam was obviously an expert—capable, determined, in control—but he was also soft, intuitive, familiar.
“Not here,” I said again, even more halfheartedly.
“Shhh…” Liam had found my clitoris and was circling it with his index and middle fingers. He expertly danced around it, hovering above it, only hitting the spot every few strokes.
I wanted to make noise, moan with delight, but I was too afraid of anyone overhearing. The only thing I could think to do was bite down on my right hand to muffle the inevitable noises that would escape. This is how it feels when someone knows what they want and how to get it, I thought. He kept the circling up with his right hand while the other found my right nipple through my shirt, plucking at it lightly.
I stayed, head tilted back, as Liam’s hand slipped inside my shirt and bra and grasped at my breasts. I was so focused on his touch, his every move, that I had to remind myself to breathe as one of his fingers navigated the wetness between my legs and pushed inside me. I felt a little spike of pain and drew in a sharp breath. Then there was another finger inside me, his hand still moving back and forth, back and forth.
Nothing is ever quite like we expect, but in this moment I felt as if I were watching the movie version of my life—real and unreal at the same time. Liam and I were in perfect sync. Our bodies moved like one and every time we looked into each other’s eyes, it was clear how much we both wanted this. Nothing about it felt strange or dangerous, the way it had the other night at the restaurant when I had felt so wary of him. And it wasn’t just physical, whatever was happening here. His longing was written across his face, and I’m certain he could see mine. I had been thinking about him nonstop, and he had been thinking about me too. We were two lost souls finding a momentary refuge in each other, breathing a sigh of relief as our bodies came together.
He kissed up and down my neck and my cheeks, then zeroed in on my mouth again. We parted our lips at the same time, and when our tongues met, I shivered. Added to the sensation of Liam’s mouth and fingers penetrating me in perfect unison was the warmth of his legs as mine squeezed against them. The thrill of it all made me come faster than I ever had in my life.
“You feel that?” he asked as I gulped a swallow of air and whimpered.
“Yes.” I nodded, my eyes fluttering open.
“The muscles in your pussy are fucking insane,” he said, pulling his fingers out of me as I pulsed and contracted around them, my body not ready to let him go.
“Can we get in your car now?” I asked, a hint of begging in my voice. I had turned a corner. All I could think of now was Liam inside me. I wanted him right away, not to mention later that night, the next morning, and every day for the rest of my life—the thoughts of an addict.
He didn’t have to be asked twice. The headlights of his car flashed as he pushed a button on his keychain and we hurried inside. The leather interior smelled new. I found the scent arousing as I smoothed my hands against the seat.
“Drive around the corner,” I instructed.
Liam blindly followed orders as I studied him from the side, trying to memorize the chiseled jawline and slightly imperfect nose that looked as though it may have been broken once or twice. In the time that I had noticed his car in my rearview mirror, my infatuation had intensified by a thousand, and I knew I couldn’t fight it. I was wired for obsession, and Liam, in this moment, was the perfect object of desire. As he shifted in his seat, I wanted to dive out of mine and plant myself on top of him, recklessly straddle him like some girl in a music video. I had an undeniable need bubbling up inside me to have him right then and there, in my mouth, between my legs, on top of me, behind me, wherever I could get him. Not since freshman year, in my skinny phase, had I felt so sexy and turned on. Despite a nagging awareness that he was light-years out of my league, the incongruity of his hotness with my relative frumpiness was almost liberating. No one would have placed us together in a lineup, but whatever it was, it was working.
He pulled over on another neighborhood street and parked in a dim spot between the streetlights.
Instant panic set in the minute I considered the reality of our surroundings—that this was where Liam and I were going to have sex. The idea didn’t exactly sit well in my prudish brain. “Hey, I’ve got a better idea,” I said, remembering the one secret getaway I had in this town. “Do you know where Oceanside Plaza is?”
Liam looked at me with an eyebrow inadvertently raised as he turned the car off. “That’s ten minutes away. I want you now.”
His green eyes had turned dark, serious. I glanced around, unsure where or how we planned to do it in his tiny car, and heard his seat belt unclick. Silently, Liam got out and walked around to my door, swinging it open wide. Although I was apprehensive about what was coming next—would we do it in the grass? Against one of the bulky stucco-housed mailboxes?—I trusted him enough to take his hand and follow him around to the back of the car, where he pinned me against the sloped trunk.
I had never had sex in public. Nowhere near it—never even outside of the bedroom. If someone had asked me two hours ago whether I’d even be capable of such an act, I would have said absolutely not. But I was operating outside of reason at this point and falsely comforted by the fact that none of this felt quite real. My hands found their way to his belt buckle, but they weren’t doing the job fast enough. Liam shoved them out of the way and ripped the jeans down his legs.
Underneath, he had on black boxer briefs that bulged with a massive hard-on. My jaw practically hit the floor at the sight of it. I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I was. Unabashed, I stared as he pulled down his boxers to reveal the biggest male org
an I had ever encountered, both long and wide but also smooth and perfectly shaped. Of course, I didn’t have much to compare it to, given it was only the second one I’d ever seen in person, but I sensed that by general standards it must be in the top one percentile. Which was confirmed when he removed a magnum condom from his jacket and tore at the package with his teeth. I imagined myself detailing this to Gracie, trying to think which little tidbits would make it into the retelling. She probably wouldn’t believe me no matter how realistic the account.
It was around then that I felt my knees start to buckle and my vision blur. Too bad we weren’t in Victorian England, with smelling salts at the ready. If you miss this, I will kill you! I thought, coaching myself to remain conscious and counting backward from ten. Liam undid my jean shorts and let them drop to the ground, along with my lacy panties that were steeped in my wetness. Sliding his hands back up my sides, he kissed me hard, then grabbed underneath my butt and lifted me against the car. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he rocked his hips to and fro, teasing me with the tip of his erection. The sensation revived me as a new wave of yearning took over. I wanted him so badly I could taste it, but when he finally started to thrust inside me, I tensed up, scared it wouldn’t fit.
Liam seemed to be thinking the same thing. “Are you a virgin?”
I shook my head no.
