by Amy Daws
I storm in and twirl on my heel, folding my arms over my chest, ready to rip him a new one. Before I get a chance to open my mouth again, he’s on me—kissing me and working feverishly on my shocked and unresponsive lips. For a brief second, I respond because kissing Brody is so natural to me. Abruptly, I get a hold of my senses and turn my face away.
“I can’t handle this, Finley,” he rasps. He tries to kiss me again but I push him back. His face looks pained, even in the darkness of his apartment with just a soft blue light streaming in the window from outside, I can see something is tearing him up inside.
“What can’t you handle, Brody?” I ask, despite myself. I should be steaming mad at him and not forgive him, but shit. I love us too much not to care.
“These feelings. They are too much,” he says as he backs away from me, raking his hand through his now shaggier dark brown curls. I asked him a few weeks ago to hold off on getting it cut because I love rubbing my hands through it so much. He was more than happy to oblige.
“I know I’m acting like a psycho. I can hear myself. But shit, Fin! I’ve never cared about anyone the way I care about you. And watching you on display like that, for all those dudes…it feels like…like…”
“Feels like what?” I ask, my voice rising in alarm.
“Like it’s only a matter of time before you cheat on me,” he groans, and stomps off into his bedroom. I stand there a moment, stunned by his admission.
“Cheat on you? What the hell, Brody. I’ve given you no reason to think I’d cheat on you!” I say, walking into his room. He’s looking out the window, shaking his head like he’s trying to stop himself from saying more.
“Don’t hold back now! We’re here. We’re fighting. Let’s lay it all out on the table,” I tell him.
“You’re telling me that if Jake,” he pauses, and swallows painfully. “If Jake came running to you and telling you he wants you…you wouldn’t consider it?”
Just hearing Jake’s name after everything Brody and I have said to each other feels like a slap in the face. I shake my head violently and turn to leave his bedroom.
“Finley, wait.” He rushes up behind me, pressing my front up against the open doorframe, encasing me in his arms.
“I don’t fucking deserve that, Brody,” I croak out, my voice thick with emotion. How could he say something so cruel about me?
“I know, I know. But I think about it all the damn time.” His statement shocks me. He sounds desperate, hurting.
“Why wouldn’t you say something?” I ask, turning my head to look over my shoulder at him. I need to see his face. I need to see where this is all coming from.
“Because it’s too fucked up to admit,” he replies, sounding desperate. His mouth is dangerously close to mine. “I’m a freaking mess, Finley. I’m scared to tell you any of this because I don’t want to lose you. I thought I was over all the shit with my past. But with you, I care even more. Everything feels even scarier. The stakes are higher.”
I turn in his arms to face him and drink in his glassy eyes, swimming with torment, pain—fear. “That’s because it’s real, Brody.” My hands instinctively go to his waist, even though I’m still pissed and hurt. “We’re for real. I want a future with you. I love us. That means something to me!” I add.
“It means something to me too, Finley. It means everything.” He sighs and presses his forehead against mine. “I love us so damn much…I can’t keep my head on straight.”
My anger softens at his vulnerability. Even in his desperate, wrong, messed up way, it’s all still good. He’s still letting me in. He’s being open. “Brody,” I croak, “You can’t get all caveman every time I want to have a little fun. We are still in college ya know?”
“I know,” he whispers against my face. He brings his hand up and strokes his fingers from my forehead to my neck. He started doing that after only a few weeks. He said he loves the feel of my soft face on his fingertips. I’m pretty sure I gave him crap about being weird, but the sensation is toe curling. I love it almost as much as when he tugs my hair.
As if reading my mind, he slips his fingers into my hair and squeezes softly. “I’m sorry, Finley. I’m so sorry.” He kisses me. It feels real this time—not desperate like before. It feels honest. I open my mouth and accept it—what else am I going to do? I love us.
Brody deepens the kiss and presses his hips into mine. I’m surprised to see he’s already aroused.
“Does fighting turn you on?” I ask, looking at him with wide eyes.
“You turn me on,” he says, seriously, not allowing me to lighten the mood with teasing. “Seeing you in this tiny dress has been driving me mad, Finley. I need you.”
I smile. “Then what are you waiting for?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Brody grabs my thighs and hoists me onto his waist. I instinctively wrap my legs around him and hold on. Instead of going to the bed, like I thought he would, he walks us to the bathroom and sets me down on top of his sink.
My hands fist in his sweatshirt, feeling achy and desperate for him to be all over me all at once. He tosses me a naughty grin. “This is our first make-up sex, babe.” He steps back, kicking out of his shoes and pants, and heads over to the shower. “I’m going to make it count.”
I laugh as he turns on the water. “Don’t make a habit of it, alright?”
He looks down sadly for a moment. His eyes darken as he takes in my spread legs. “That dress is hot, but it’ll be even hotter on the floor.” He pulls me off the counter and drags the dress up over my head, revealing my matching pale pink panty set. The bra is sheer and shows the sharp pucker of my nipples.
“Fuuuuck,” he exhales, drinking in my body. Goosebumps pimple over every spot his eyes touch. “I’m a fan,” he says, leaning down, and wraps his mouth around my nipple over top of the see-through fabric. He scrapes his teeth gently, tugging on my nipple and I cry out at the painfully, erotic sensation. His hands reach behind me and make quick work of my bra. “Let’s ditch these too,” he says, pulling my panties down. I’m now completely nude, except for my high stiletto-heeled boots.
I lean down to remove them, but he stops me, and walks me back to the counter. He drops down on his knees. I lean against the edge of the counter, feeling ten shades of excited for what’s about to happen.
He strokes my boot-covered calf with his hand. “I’m sorry I doubted you,” he says, dropping a soft kiss to my exposed kneecap. I instinctively close my legs. He eyes me seriously—like he’s a dog and I just took away his bone. I open my legs back up to him.
When he places his mouth on my sex, I squeeze my thighs tightly around his face. He doesn’t seem to notice or care. He works his tongue feverishly, pushing me toward climax. In a matter of moments, I’m coming apart all over his mouth, my head slamming back onto the mirror. If I hurt myself, I don’t even notice because my body is consumed with the intense pulsating pleasure between my legs.
“Jesus, Brody,” I exhale. I drag my eyes up to him as he takes his shirt and underwear off.
“Am I forgiven, babe?” he asks with a small smirk.
“What were we fighting about again?”
His chest vibrates with laughter. “Let’s take a shower.”
A shower? Oh, ummmm, let me think about it. Yeah, okay.
***
It’s completely dark, except for the glow coming in through his curtains from the security light outside. After Brody’s very thorough bathroom antics, I’m feeling completely sated and deliriously happy.
“Do you ever wonder how the heck it took us so long to find each other?” I ask Brody, as we cuddle completely naked in his big king-sized bed.
“Not really.” He snakes his arm around my waist and pulls my back tightly against his chest. He nuzzles my hair, inhaling deeply. “Damn, I love the smell of my shampoo in your hair.”
I giggle and turn around to face him. Our legs are tangled together intimately. He sweetly strokes my wet hair away from my face, and
looks into my eyes adoringly.
“I’m serious. Don’t you ever wonder?” I ask again.
“I’m glad we didn’t.” I scowl at him and he chuckles and kisses my brow line. “I would have hated to meet you a year ago. If you think I’m a pain in the ass now, you should have seen me then.”
“You never talk about her. Or your other ex. Not really at least. You don’t get that detailed about your past. I don’t want to pry, but after tonight, I’m a lot more curious.”
He sighs, looking sad. “I’m not keeping anything from you on purpose. It’s just kind of embarrassing, I guess.”
“Embarrassing? How?” I’m clueless as to how an incredible man like Brody can feel embarrassed and insecure.
“It’s just a real ego blunder when you have not one, but two, serious girlfriends cheat on you. It makes a guy feel like he’s not good enough. Like he’s not doing things right. He’s not…I dunno…satisfying, I guess.”
“That’s ridiculous, Brody.” I drape myself over his chest. “You are completely satisfying.”
“No, I know,” he answers dismissively, like he barely registered what I said. “Thank you, babe. It still doesn’t change anything though. Like, Cora, my high school girlfriend…we never fought…nothing. We never said anything bad to each other. We never even disagreed about what movie to go to. She was the nice girl that got along with everybody. And then she was so damn nice that she told me immediately after she cheated. She thought that was kinder or something, I don’t know. She slept with her friend’s boyfriend at a party the night before. She practically ran straight to me when she was done to tell me everything. I didn’t even know she went to the party! She totally blindsided me.”
I remain silent. I’m not sure what to even say in this situation.
“Then, Lyndsay. Lyndsay was like, the total opposite of Cora. She was loud and flirty and all over the damn place.” He swallows hard. “I think that’s why I flipped so bad tonight. A lot of what I saw just brought me right back to her shit.”
“Yeah, but I’m not her. You can’t persecute me for something someone else did.”
“I know, Finley. You’re not her. You’re so much more. I’m so damn sorry. I hate that I did that. I guess I still have shit to work through.” He shrugs and looks down. “I don’t know why I even stayed with her as long as I did. She was constantly messing around on me. I was such an idiot.”
“And she had sex with one of your friends,” I finish, reciting what he’d told me previously.
He nods and I see that muscle in his jaw tick. I rub his cheek and sigh, trying to muster up the courage to open up.
“I kind of know how that feels,” I offer. His frown relaxes and he looks into my eyes, curiously. “I don’t know how much you heard about me and Jake. I mean, there’s not much to hear. We never hooked up or dated…nothing.”
“So, what was the deal then?” Brody asks, and his voice sounds thick. Forced.
I shrug. “He slept with Olivia. I walked in on them. It was freaking mortifying.”
“But you guys weren’t even dating?”
“That’s correct. And I know I had no claim on him. It just seemed like people thought…I thought…”
“That you two would end up together,” he finishes for me.
“Yeah, I guess. Jake and I were best friends. We spent so much time together in such a short time span. I fed into the fantasy of it all, I guess.”
Brody shifts away from me and lays on his back staring at the ceiling. “Babe, I hate hearing you call him your best friend.”
I groan. “Brody, I’m sorry. I’m just being honest here.”
“I know…and I’m glad. But hearing you care that much about another guy is fucking painful as hell.” He closes his eyes like he’s trying to compose himself, and it tears me up.
“You have nothing to worry about, Brody. Jake’s not even in my life anymore. I love us. That’s not something I say lightly. I’ve never even said I love you to a guy before. And I was kind of a serial monogamist through the years, so that’s saying something.”
“I feel the same,” he says, as he turns back to me so we’re face to face. He pulls my hips into his so our bodies are completely flush against each other. “My two exes,” he starts, “I said I loved them, Fin. I said those words, and now, thinking back to the moment I said them…It doesn’t even compare to what I feel when I say them to you.”
My heart swells. I close the small gap between our faces and meld my lips to his. How did I find this guy? I don’t know how I could possibly deserve it, but I’m taking it anyway. I’m taking it all.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
A couple weeks later, campus is buzzing in anticipation for Homecoming. Homecoming at K-State is huge. It always has been. Wildwood and the study strip are the two of the biggest party scenes. Everyone who doesn’t go to the football game tailgates in the parking lot all day long. People are drunk and puking before the sun even goes down.
Brody and I manage to actually socialize with our friends without murdering each other. It’s nice. It feels right. Being able to look at him from the dance floor at The Tank and have him bring me drinks and not glare at every guy within a five-foot radius, shows that we are growing and developing together. Maybe he is beginning to feel more re-assured in our love.
Angela and I decide to invite a few friends over to pre-game at our place before we head out to the study strip later in the night. Brody and Mark stroll into our apartment with several cases of beer. I smile and drink in Brody’s tall frame. He’s wearing skillfully distressed jeans and a purple K-State t-shirt that hugs his biceps. I find my way over to him and pull him in for a kiss.
“Well, hello to you, too,” he mews, attempting to conceal a pleased-as-punch smirk. Damn, I love when he tries not to smile.
“I missed you,” I say, reaching my hands up above his shoulders, and hugging him tightly. Brody and I have been spending a few nights apart every week, because both of our studies were starting to suffer as a result of our whirlwind romance. As much as I hate it, the nights we are together, we more than make up for our time apart.
“Do I smell food in this apartment? Answer: No. Did you girls seriously not make any snacks?” Mark drawls, standing next to the fridge.
“No, we didn’t make food, Mark. We don’t have to make food for you guys every time we see you,” Angela answers, slamming the fridge door and crossing her arms across her small chest.
Mark cocks his head to the side and says, “Is purple your color? Answer: Every color is your color, you beautific modern-day maiden.” He pinches her sides and she yelps and swats at his hand.
“Could you be any more weird? Answer: No!” Angela smiles clearly pleased with her impersonation.
Mark shoots her a challenging look and sprints after her. She giggles and runs into her room. He follows. Mark is definitely getting under her skin, in a good way. Maybe soon that will be more than a metaphor.
“We drinking?” Brody asks, pulling me into the kitchen with him.
“Does a bear shit in the woods?” I ask, and he scowls at me.
“Damn, my woman says the sexiest things.”
***
“LET’S GO TO THE BAR!” Angela shouts over the swarms of people that have packed into our tiny apartment. A sudden downpour forced all the parking lot partiers inside. And since our place isn’t nearly big enough for the amount of people that were congregating outside, we’ve all overcompensated with our cozy discomfort, by drinking—heavily.
The rain lets up for a bit, so we all file out of the apartment and head over to the study strip. The study strip, during homecoming, reminds me a bit of Mardi Gras in New Orleans. The partying happens on the streets outside the bars, just as much as it does on the inside. Since we’re all pretty hammered, Angela, Mark, Brody, and I, opt to just walk around and socialize with everyone wilding out.
As we’re loitering outside of The Tank, a familiar voice calls out from behind me. “Finley? Damn.”
I turn and see Rider Grayson, my huge, massive, one-night-stand nightmare, standing right in front of me in all his jock glory.
Rider was not one of my finer college moments. I was a sophomore and had been doing fine, hopping from short-term boyfriend to short-term boyfriend, sowing my wild oats. Rider caught me fresh off a recent breakup, and I got that dreamy-eyed look in my eye. He wasn’t particularly gorgeous, but he had that air about him because he was a football player. It’s hard to put my finger on it, but that player-confidence was enthralling to me as a sophomore.
The worst part of the whole situation was that after we slept together, he went right back to ignoring me on campus. He never even acknowledged me with a head nod. He’d pass me at the dining hall, walking to class, and his eyes would glaze over me like I wasn’t even there.
I remember telling Angela that maybe he forgot we had sex because he was drunk. How pathetic was I to be hoping a guy was too drunk to remember having sex with me. The alternative was that he had sex with me, and it was so bad, he couldn’t stomach talking to me again. So for him to be addressing me like he knows me is just completely weird.
“Rider, hiiii,” I rasp out, and do a quick glance around for Brody. I see him down the sidewalk a ways, his back turned to me, chatting animatedly with Mark and a few other guys.
“How you doing, girl?” he asks in a thick southern accent, brazenly looking me up and down. I’m suddenly regretting the K-State tank, mini skirt, and tights I matched together.
“I’m fine. I thought you graduated?” I look into his baby blue eyes and feel like he’s aged more than time should have allowed. His kinky blonde hair is still shaggy and shoved into a ball cap. I get none of the same feels I got for him two years ago.
“I did. It’s homecoming. Gotta come back for homecoming. Pshh…who you hanging with tonight?”
“My boyfriend, actually.”
“Oh, snap, you got a boyfriend now? That’s a shame…for him!” He laughs, looking back to his friends for support, but they are too busy talking to one another and typing into their phones.
