Inhibitions

by Kimberly Bracco

  I can’t help but think about the last time we had sex, which was nearly a week ago. She was hot as fuck, provoking the hell out of me, purposely being defiant.

  "Are you going to be a good girl, or do I have to restrain you?" I had asked her.

  Her response had been to wiggle her fine, naked ass against my cock.

  I grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled so she had to turn to look at me over her shoulder. "I think you want me to tie you down and smack that ass. Is that what you want?"

  "God, yes. Please tie me down, spank me, and fuck me," she’d practically purred out.

  She gets so turned on by being dominated. Fuck, if I don’t get rock hard just thinking about her… I love that she got off on everything we did together. I love sex with her, and each time is better than the last. There is definitely something to be said about sex with someone you actually care about emotionally. I’ve been thinking lately that I may even love her, but I’m not ready to admit that.

  I chuckle to myself, remembering how embarrassed she’d been at first about wanting to be dominated. As though I could ever think of her as the whore she’d thought that would make her. Seriously, what kind of assholes had she been running with before? I can’t seem to wipe the smile off my face whenever I think of her.

  I’m eager to get back to Ashley’s place. I hate that she’s sick, but this seems worse than a regular stomach virus. I’m taking her to the doctor when I get home if she doesn’t seem any better, whether she wants me to or not.

  Quinn answers the door when I ring the bell.

  "She's in her room," she tells me before heading to her room and closing the door behind her.

  I knock on Ashley's door and walk in.

  She’s curled up in the middle of the bed in the fetal position, her knees tucked under chin with her arms wrapped around them. Her face is blotchy and red, her eyes bloodshot and teary. She looks terrible. Yup, I’m definitely taking her to the doctor.

  I sit down next to her and run my hand through her hair, brushing strands out of her face.

  "Baby, you need to see a doctor. I’m not taking no for answer. I’ll take you," I insist, continuing to run my fingers through her limp locks.

  "I don’t need a doctor, Tanner. I know what's wrong with me," she tells me with tears in her eyes. She won’t look me in the eye.

  "Ashley, this can’t be a simple stomach virus. You look worse today than yesterday. I’m worried about you. Please let me take you to a doctor," I ask as nicely as I can while still trying to sound stern.

  "I don’t need to see a doctor. I already figured out it’s not a stomach virus, but I don’t need a doctor to tell me what I already know," she says, her voice deadpan.

  Huh? Now I’m confused. She sounds delirious and isn’t making any sense.

  "Do you have a fever? You're not making any sense." I put my hand on her forehead, but it's hot.

  "No, I'm not delirious, Tanner. I'm pregnant," she whispers.

  What? No, she's not. She can’t be. She has to be kidding just to get out of going to the doctor.

  "Yeah, okay, Ashley. Like I'd believe that. Come on, to the doctor," I say, trying to make her sit.

  "I'm not kidding, Tanner." She grabs a plastic stick that looks suspiciously like a pregnancy test from the night stand and hands it to me. From a little window, the word 'pregnant' stares mockingly out at me.

  "That’s not possible, Ash. You're on birth control. What the fuck is going on?"

  Suddenly, all the amazing things I’d been thinking of her on the car ride over don’t seem nearly as true, even though I want them to be.

  "About two months ago, I was changing the sheets, and I found one of my patches stuck to it. It was only off for a couple days. I googled what to do, and the website just said to put on a new one immediately. As long as it wasn’t off for more than seven days, I was supposed to be okay. I thought I was fine because I found it on Friday and you had a game that weekend, so I wouldn’t be seeing you anyway. And then we had the gala, and I totally forgot about it. I honestly never thought that being sick was related to that. I didn’t even realize that I haven’t had a period since then until this morning when I woke up."

  "I'm sorry, did you say you googled it?" I ask, utterly shocked.

  "Yes."

  "And what did your doctor say when you called him?" I ask. She can’t be this dumb.

  "Nothing. I didn’t call him. I just put on the new patch and started another round of birth control."

  "So you found your patch stuck to the sheets, where it had been there for a few days, and you immediately googled it? Why didn’t you call a fucking doctor, Ashley? Why didn’t you ask if there was anything else you should being doing? Like, gee I don’t know, maybe the morning after pill or something? You google it and decide that whatever some random website says is better than calling an actual doctor?"

  I have a feeling I know exactly what she was thinking, but I want to see what she has to say for herself. I can’t believe she’s just the same as every other bitch out there.

  "I figured the information was fine. It... it never said anything about calling the doctor," she says, stumbling over her words.

  Yup, caught in the act, Ashley.

  "Want to know what I think?" I ask.

  She nods, and there’s a hopeful look in her eyes. It won’t be there for long, though. She’s not going to fool me twice.

  "I think you saw the perfect opportunity to get something from me. That's what I think. Another perk of a rich hot boyfriend, as you said. Any normal person would have called her doctor and asked an actual medical professional what to do. A normal person would have told her boyfriend about said incident so they could discuss what had happened like mature adults. Gold digging whores, like Carrie and you, keep shit like this a secret,” I spit out. “You expect me to believe that you didn’t plan this whole thing out? You had fooled me into thinking you were different by pretending not to want anything but me, but you aren’t going to trick me with that lame story that you just gave me. Don’t insult my intelligence. I may be a jock, but I’m no fool."

  I’d have to be a complete schmuck to think that this was anything other than a trap.

  "That isn’t what happened. And I didn’t try and trap you. I didn’t want this sort of bombshell any more than you do. How can you even think that?" She cries, but the crocodile tears aren’t going to sway me. Been there before, and that bitch was a liar too.

  "How can I think that? What am I supposed to think? You aren’t seventeen. Any grown woman should know better than to rely on Google for a medical decision. You’ve known about this all week, haven’t you? This is why you didn’t want me to know you were sick, isn’t it?”

  “No, no, that’s not true,” she says, shaking her head.

  “You thought that I would fall for your act just like that, huh? I might have if I’d known about the situation when it happened two months ago. I would’ve if you included me in this little dilemma and I’d known you’d tried everything you could. I could have accepted it then, and I’d be here for you. But you lied, and you’re using this as a way to play me. I won’t be played. You should know that about me. Thanks for taking everything I ever told you about me and using it against me. Hope you’re happy because I’m done. And if you’re actually pregnant, I expect a paternity test. Apparently you like to keep secrets. Who knows what else you're hiding?" I turn on my heel and I walk out without giving her the chance to say another word. I don’t want to hear it. I can’t believe a word she says.

  I don’t know what to think anymore. How could I have missed the signs? I can usually spot them a mile away, like radar or something for moochers. I felt something different with her from the beginning. This is why I’ve always stuck to Melissa. I never had to worry about this crap with her. Granted, I’ve never had real feelings for her either, but at least I knew that this wasn’t going to happen. Fuck this shit. I need alcohol.

  I dial Alex's number, and he picks up on t
he second ring. "Yo, Tag, what’s up? Come up for air? Ashley let you out of bed?"

  "Meet me at my house and stop at the liquor store on your way here. I don’t have enough alcohol there to make myself forget." Alcohol is the only thing that’ll make my mind shut the hell up right now. I can’t believe I’ve been so stupid.

  **********

  "Dude, don’t you think that you have enough?" Alex asks. Or at least I think that’s what he asks. Things are little hard to follow after a bottle of Jack.

  "Did that bitch still betray me?" I ask before slamming back another shot. I’ve been at this for about two hours now. "Then no, I haven’t had enough yet."

  “Man, you're best my friend, but you're being a real asshole right now. I think you should just stop and think about the situation before you do something you’ll regret."

  "What the fuck are you talking about? Have you been fucking listening? I already did something I regret. You’d think I would’ve learned from the past. Bitches always wait until you’ve hit it big to try and trap you into something. In Ashley’s case, she waited until I was falling in love with her. I can’t believe I fell for her shit. Shit, I probably gave her the idea when I told her all about what Carrie did," I honestly can’t believe this is happening to me again. Who knows if that kid is mine? I can’t trust a thing that she’s ever told me.

  "Don't you think that you’re reaching, man? Ashley doesn’t seem the type to do something like this. There’s a reason we all like her. There’s a reason you pursued her relentlessly. Come on, man. Pull your head out of the bottle and think for a minute. I mean, really think logically," my supposed best friend says in a huff.

  Whose side is this asshole on? "Think about what? That I should have just kept up what I had with Melissa and left well enough alone? If it ain’t broke don’t fix it, right? I had to go messing with things when they were working just fine.” I can’t sit here anymore. This dickhead has me pissed off. Why can’t he see this for what it is? “I’m such an asshole. Kid probably isn’t mine anyway. We'll see soon enough, I guess. That bitch isn’t getting a dime from me until she proves it’s mine. Does she think I'm stupid?" I ask as I pace back in forth in front him.

  "I think you're stupid. At this point, I hope that kids isn’t yours. I wouldn’t want you as my dad with the way you're acting."

  Why did I call him? All he’s doing is making me angrier. "I'm like three seconds away from planting my fist in your fucking face, asshole. Seriously, what part of her story sounds legit to you? What sane person uses google instead of calling a doctor? Why didn’t she tell me about this? It all seems fishy to me. I. Don’t. Trust. Her," I say through gritted teeth, clenching my teeth so hard it fucking hurts, even drunk.

  "First of all, people use google for shit like that all the time. I’m in the medical field, Tag. Trust me, I know. Do you know how many people ask me shit like 'Hey, I read on google that I should do this or that, should I?' And as someone with decent medical knowledge, I'm going to tell you that it mostly likely wouldn’t have mattered either. If she found the thing a few days later, the damage was most likely already done. I get that you’re mad at her for not telling you sooner, and I completely agree with you there, but all this other shit is bogus. I’m telling you, friend: you’re going to regret this. She made a mistake, but you're making a bigger one." Alex stands, getting in my face.

  Whatever. He doesn’t know what the fuck he is talking about. I don’t give a shit if he is a physical therapist. "Fuck you!” I yell. “The only thing I'm regretting at the moment, other than Ashley, is calling you up, asshole. Doesn’t matter anyway. I told her to the hit the road. I'm sure I'll hear from her if the kid is mine, but until then, fuck her. I’m not going to be responsible for some other dick’s kid. If you’re going to continue to nag, you can get the fuck out. But if you decide to put your balls back where your vagina is currently sitting and stop annoying the fuck out of me, you can stay. I'm done talking about this shit. I’m going to finish my scotch and then hit the sack and pray that when I wake up this shit will all have been just a dream."

  If only I could be so lucky. I wish that I could sleep off the betrayal. It feels as though someone stabbed a knife into my back. I really had thought that Ashley was different. How could I have been so wrong? Everything feels so out of control, and there’s this horrible churning in the pit of my stomach. I hope like hell it only has to do with the amount alcohol currently residing in it.

  Chapter 29

  ASHLEY

  Broken.

  That’s the only word I can think of to describe myself right now. I don’t know how long I lie in bed crying. I only know that I need to get up and shower and return to the land of the living, but I can’t wrap my head around everything that’s happened.

  How the hell could Tanner think this was a trap? How could he think I’m like all the other people in his life? Haven’t I proven that I just want him for him over the last few months? Granted, the situation isn’t ideal, but was that reaction really necessary? Is that how he treats the people who love him when he doesn’t like something they’ve done? I didn’t do anything wrong. Maybe calling a doctor would have been a better option than consulting Google, but I honestly hadn’t thought that anything would come of a silly lost patch. I’ve been on birth control for ten years, I’d never thought I would actually end up pregnant after one slip up.

  Do I love Tanner? This morning, I would have said yes with no hesitation, but now I don’t know. I guess it doesn’t really matter either way. We’re done. He’s made that very clear. I don’t know if I would want to be him with anymore after that. I still don’t get it. How have I ever given him the impression that I’m like the rest? I’ve never asked him for anything. I declined most things that he tried to do for me. I treated him like a regular guy. The more that I think about his outburst, the angrier I get. He obviously doesn’t know me at all. Or maybe I never knew the real him…

  I feel a new wave of tears coming. No matter which way I spin it, it still hurts, and it hurts because I did actually love him.

  I let myself cry for a few more minutes and then give myself a mental pep talk. Does this situation suck? Yes. Did I ask for this situation? No. Is there a way to change it at the moment? No. Then it’s time for me to put on my big girl panties and deal. It isn’t just me I have to worry about anymore. I may not be all that thrilled about the pregnancy but I know that I have to do right by this baby. He or she needs one parent on their side. That parent is going to be me.

  I drag my ass out of bed and into the shower. All my emotions have been blocked out by the nausea, so I’m able to actually function at the moment. The shower feels amazing after so long in bed and does more for my mental state than I’d anticipated. Nothing like a hot shower to pull you out of a downward spiral.

  Quinn is waiting for me on my bed when I come out of the bathroom.

  "So, how did it go?” she asks. “I heard enough to know that it went pretty bad, but I thought I’d ask for the whole story before I pass judgment on the douche."

  "It went pretty bad. It’s over. He told me I’m just like everyone else who wants a piece of him. He’s convinced himself that I want to trap him." I shrug. For the last few hours, I’ve been thinking about nothing but him and the situation, but I can’t anymore. I need to get moving.

  "Wow, what an asshole thing to do."

  “Yeah, but what can I do? It is what it is. I can’t dwell. I need to focus on what’s next, not what happened last. This baby needs someone in its corner. That’ll be me. Even if I’m standing in it alone," I say with more conviction than I’d realized I had, and I can’t help but smile.

  Fuck him. I don’t need him, and neither does my baby. It finally sinks in for me: I’m going to have a baby.

  "If this is what you want to do, you will never stand in that corner alone, Sweets. Awesome Aunt Quinn will be right by your side all the way. You don’t need a man to have a baby. He already did his part. I'm your partner from here on
out," she says, getting up to hug me.

  "It’s the only thing I can do.” I smile. “I love you, Quinn."

  "I love you more, Ash. So what’s next?"

  "Maybe we should google it," I suggest, laughing. What else can I do but laugh at this point? I refuse to roll over and play dead. "I need to call my gyno and make an appointment. It’s only three o'clock, they should still be open.”

  "Okay, so make an appointment to check on my niece," Quinn says as she bounces over to get my phone.

  "Or nephew." I take my phone from her and catch myself looking down at the screen in the hopes that I have a missed call or text from him. There’s nothing waiting for me. I feel the moisture building in my eyes but I hold it back. I pick up my head and look at Quinn. "I wish I could turn off my feelings as quickly as he did. Even after all the shitty things that he said to me, I still love him. How fucked up am I?"

  "You're not fucked up. You love him. That isn’t going to just stop because he went bat-shit crazy on you. Especially with all those hormones you’ve got going on now. Don’t beat yourself up for still caring. That’s what makes you you, Ash. You have an unbelievably huge heart, and I couldn’t be more proud to call you my best friend. Now make that phone call so we can figure out what the fuck is going on in your uterus."

  "And that right there is why I am proud to call you my best friend, Quinn."