by Stacy Borel
“I’m confused.”
He lifted his head slightly so that he was peering down at me. He released my hip and used his fingers to brush away an errant hair that was across my forehead. Tucking it behind my ear he said, “I want to know why you look like you do. For the past week, I’ve been walking into a house with a woman who seems more lost than I am. How is that even possible?”
It wasn’t a rhetorical question. He looked melancholy. I couldn’t take my eyes away from his. He was holding me in more ways than one. It scared me that he let himself in here, as if there were no boundaries. Plus, I had no clue why he even cared. I wanted nothing more than to push him off me and tell him to leave me alone. I didn’t want to be seen that way. And by the same token, I wanted to pull him closer to me and beg him to hold me—even if it were just for one night. I’d never let someone I didn’t know into my bed. Confused was an understatement. My thoughts were flying around like a damn tornado, and my emotions were being rocked with debris.
“I don’t understand any of this, Dawson. Who are you?” I whispered, tears prevalent in the corners of my eyes.
“Doesn’t matter. I just know that I don’t think I can go another day seeing you walking around looking so defeated.”
A sob bubbled up. “I didn’t know you cared.”
He shrugged. “I care. Now more sadness tonight. Tonight we just sleep knowing neither of us is alone. Tomorrow we can go back to the way it was.”
My chest shook as I tried to pull back the tears that were sweeping down my cheeks. God, that sounded nice. However odd it might be to anybody else, I felt safe at this moment. I desperately wanted to sink into the warmth he was offering, and to let it all go, just for one night. I needed sleep. And yet he didn’t even realize he was part of the reason sleep had been evading me. I wanted more than just to nod off with him. I wanted him to touch me. I wanted to feel him everywhere. There was a low undercurrent of desire buzzing through me, but I couldn’t act on it. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I couldn’t. He frightened me. I would never attempt any moves toward a man who looked and acted like he did. I was not an aggressor. And as much as I was craving to know what it felt like to be touched by him, there was no way I could cheat on Seth. Not now, not ever. It was not who I was.
I couldn’t stay laying like this. I could handle feeling him, but I couldn’t handle keeping my eyes open and seeing him at the same time. My senses were already on overload. Rolling over to my side, I faced the bathroom and scooted back into him. This was my version of bravery. He moved in a couple of inches until his body was flush with my back. So, this was spooning, I thought to myself. Seth never cuddled with me. He always said he got too hot and couldn’t stand any body parts touching. Clearly, he was missing out. This felt amazing. Dawson’s larger size nearly engulfed my own. His arm came around my side and rested with his palm flat on my stomach. That low buzz I had felt before was now like an electric charge pulsing through my system.
“Breathe, Chandler.” Dawson spoke near my ear.
Closing my eyes, I sighed. “I’m breathing.”
He chuckled and I felt the rumble against my back. “No, you’re not. You’re wound tight. Breathe.”
He said nothing else the remainder of the night. I knew he had fallen asleep when his arm became limp and heavy and when a soft snore reverberated from his chest. Me, on the other hand—my eyes were wide open and looking at everything on this side of the room. I didn’t think I was going to be able to pass out. I didn’t want to. I wanted to stay awake for as long as I could so I could memorize every snore, every breath, every second that I was actually feeling something more. I wanted to roll over so I could watch him sleep, but I didn’t want to move from the exact position that I was in. I was afraid that if I did, this perfect little bubble would pop and Dawson would go back to his room. Instead, I held perfectly still and continued to catalog these memories. I never knew when I’d need to pull them out again to remind myself that I was still alive.
The next morning, I woke up to a cold and empty bed beside me. Dawson must’ve gotten up for work and left. I sat up and looked at the clock. It was just after ten. Geez, I hadn’t slept this good in almost a year. I stared up at the ceiling, thinking about last night and how it felt in the arms of a stranger. I tried to pick apart and analyze why the feel of him felt so natural. I wanted to know what drew me to him. It was more than just the lure of good looks and sexual need. Something about his very essence drew me in and called to my soul. In the short time I’d been around him, I’d had more emotion bubble to the surface than Seth plucked from me in three years. It was very disconcerting. Nobody should be able to do that. Not when you know so little, and not when you’re supposed to be invested in someone else. Dawson was making my head spin. Last night was something I think I needed but didn’t realize it. His words played around in my head. He said I was lost. Was I lost? Yes, I think I was, but he shouldn’t be able to see me like that. I had on a mask for everyone else, and yet he saw underneath it. I didn’t consider it a good thing.
TURNED OUT, OUR ONE NIGHT of keeping each other company wound up being an every night occurrence thereafter. Dawson would come in about an hour after I’d gone to bed, and we’d lay there talking about little things. Things that didn’t really matter and things that I got the feeling he didn’t tell too many people. For example, I found out he used to play football in high school. He was the star player. He was supposed to go to college on scholarship, but he was hurt during practice and lost it all. He also carried a lot on his shoulders. He took care of his family, albeit he didn’t go into detail. He wanted to have kids someday, and he wanted to get married.
All of the things he shared with me made me feel like I was special. Like he was particular about the bits and pieces he divulged. I got the feeling he didn’t open up to just anybody. For whatever reason, when he told me something about himself, I listened more intently than if he were Seth, Sydney, or anybody else I’d been close with. I wanted to know things about him. I craved knowledge about his life. On this particular night, we were laying side by side, facing one another. I’d just finished telling him about the trips I’d taken during the summer months to my grandparents’ house. Although I’d left out the bit about it being here. It got quiet, and I stared into his dark brown eyes. I’d just started getting used to feeling so exposed around him, knowing that he could read people easily. Call it a sixth sense, but he knew a person in the first ten minutes of talking to them. Baffled me.
Dawson had smiled at me before he rolled over to his other side, ending the conversation for the night. He did this often. Unless he gave my arm a tug, which told me to curl into him. I was looking at his back and I swore I could feel the itching in my fingertips. I desperately wanted to reach up and trace the pattern of the tattoo on his back. It was a cross with a man’s name underneath it. Same last name as his. I could only assume the name was his grandfather or father. Fortitude filled me, and I did what I thought I couldn’t.
Tentatively, I reached up and lightly touched the top of the cross. He didn’t tense up or ask me to stop. His skin was so warm and soft. I let my finger run along the black lines.
“Can I ask who your tattoo is about?”
I felt him breathe in deeply. Several beats had passed before he spoke. “It’s my dad.”
I stilled. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I was young when he passed away.”
I could hear the tension behind his words. He might have been young, but it still very much affected him. “That’s awful. How did he die?”
“Heart problem.”
I didn’t want to continue to push him. He was giving me something very personal right now. So, I closed my mouth and drew my finger over his father’s name. The fact that he was letting me touch him so freely made me feel less guarded around him. He trusted me at this moment, and I trusted him. I couldn’t really call him a stranger any longer. It was not the length of time that you knew someone that mad
e the relationship but the connection. I felt connected to Dawson—right here, right now.
He must have known when I got to the last letter in the name because he rolled over, which caused me to shift onto my back. He leaned over the top of me, his face only a few inches from my own. What was happening right now?
“If I kissed you right now, would you be okay with that?” he asked.
I didn’t think I’d ever felt my heart beat so hard in my chest before. Breathily, I answered, “Yes.”
He dipped his head down and gave a gentle brush of his lips across mine. It ignited a fire through my body. I inadvertently arched into him, which let him know I was more than okay with what he was doing. He pressed his lips on mine a little more firmly this time. They were soft and full. Opening my mouth slightly, Dawson took advantage and I felt the tip of his tongue touch mine. Sighing, I opened more and he went deeper. One of his hands came up and slid under my neck. My body was on fire. God, I needed this; I needed him. Not a single thought of Seth crossed my mind. I had no guilt that I was kissing another man. There was no remorse that Dawson knew nothing of him. Everything about this felt so right that I couldn’t allow those thoughts to penetrate past my desire for the person who was currently pulling me into his arms. I needed more.
He nipped at my lower lip, and I moaned. His tongue brushed across the area that stung and soothed away the pain. Never in my life had I been kissed like this. Pretty sure I could do this for days and I still wouldn’t want to stop. I would do anything to keep this going. Even sell my soul to the devil.
“You’re shaking.” He spoke so quietly against my mouth.
I was. It was from my need mixed with nerves. When you hadn’t been with someone else for so long, there was a fear that nagged me in the back of my head saying I wouldn’t be any good. That he was just kind and I was vulnerable.
“It’s okay. I’m okay,” I said more to myself, than to him.
“You sure?”
I nodded and he continued where he left off. My body was working itself up into a frenzy. I could feel the wetness seeping through my panties, and I would have gotten on my knees and begged him to touch me there, but I was nowhere near audacious enough to lead his hands where I wanted them. Didn’t matter. His mouth was on mine and I had been having nightly dreams about doing this very thing for two solid weeks. I didn’t want it to end. I didn’t know how long we kissed each other, but it did eventually end. He tenderly pecked me then kissed my forehead.
“Get some rest, Chandler.”
Tangling his feet with mine, I pressed my head against his chest. We were at my favorite part of the night. I discovered he found comfort when any part of his body was touching mine. Normally, his feet and legs wound around mine and he’d pull me in. It was so endearing that now sleep would only take me under if I were getting comfort from him like this. Listening to the steady beating of his heart, I closed my eyes and let myself go.
“I’m not trying to pressure you, Chandler. I’m just saying it’s been over a month since we’ve been intimate. That’s not normal.”
I was standing on the other side of the bed from Seth, and I pulled back the duvet and sheets. “I know you’re not pressuring me. But it kind of puts a damper on my mood when you remind me how long it’s been.”
“I’m a guy. Sex is important. Hell, it’s important in any relationship.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. I’ve just had a lot on my mind lately.”
“Like what?” He laid down and pulled the covers up to his chest.
“I don’t know . . . just things.” The truth was I didn’t want to talk to him about anything that I’d been thinking about lately. How I had been questioning the solidity of our future together and how I’d been wondering if he even made me happy.
“Well, that’s helpful,” he scowled.
I sighed. “Seth, listen. You throw out the excuse of being a guy and that sex is important to you, but I’m going to throw right back at you that I’m a girl and everything is emotional for me. It’s hard for me to shut my head off and let go enough to just do it. I know you don’t understand that, but please try.”
He brought his hand up to my face and brushed his fingers across my cheek. I closed my eyes and attempted to stop thinking about every errant thought that I could. He wanted this, so why didn’t I? As his hand dropped, it grazed my neck and moved over my breast. His palm raised and he cupped me, his thumb rolling over my nipple. I waited for something, anything that would suggest that my body was responding. Nothing was happening. Seth moved forward and kissed my lips. It all shut off at that moment. I tried to picture someone else . . . anyone else. I failed.
Pulling my head back and moving out of his grasp, I looked at him, knowing the disappointment I’d see over his face. And there it was. “I’m sorry. I’m just too tired tonight.”
He dropped his arm and flopped back onto his back. “Don’t worry about it. Just go to sleep.”
Seth was mad. I didn’t know what else to do to fix this, so I took my glasses off, shut off the lamp on my side, and faced away from him.
I was sitting at the kitchen table eating some grapes and reading when the memory from only a month ago slammed into me. I was reading a book I’d read before and it reminded me of that night. One of many I’d had with Seth like that. It happened pretty often. More often than I’d care to admit. Leaning back into my chair, I popped a piece of fruit into my mouth and slowly chewed. The last couple of months, whenever he was home, I found myself less and less interested in him that way. I figured it was me. At first, I thought it was simply a phase. Maybe it would subside and things would naturally fall back into place, like how it was when we first met. But I realized it wasn’t a phase. I felt defective and broken.
Dawson came walking in the front door, and I looked at him with such desire and lust that I now knew that I was not broken. It wasn’t me at all. It wasn’t even Seth. It was that I didn’t think we ever connected on that level. With Dawson, I was getting desperate to be with him more sexually. I was ready to beg. After he had removed his boots, he came into the kitchen and got a glass of water. I stared intently as he tilted his head back and watched his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed. I was getting flushed and a little more than turned on.
“Hey,” he said, setting his glass in the sink.
“Hey back.” I smiled.
“Whatcha up to?”
I looked down at my e-reader. “The usual.” He chuckled. “You hungry? I made some paninis for lunch. There are a couple leftover in the fridge I can heat up.”
His usual hard stance softened. “I’m good, thanks. But I do have a question.”
“What’s that?”
“Want to go out to the bar tonight? I think we both could use a night out to relax and get a change of scenery. Well, at least you do. I don’t know how you stay cooped up in this place all damn day.”
I scrunched my brows together. “I’m not cooped up. I’m content.”
“Sure, you are.” He gave me a fake half-smile. “Anyway, what do you say?”
Hmmm, Dawson, alcohol, maybe some dancing if I got drunk and daring enough . . . where did I sign up? “Okay, sounds good.”
He pushed off the counter he was leaning against. “I’ll go shower and we can go after that.”
“All right.”
As soon as he was out of sight, it occurred to me that I had nothing to wear. I’d been wearing the same things over and over again. Crap. Looking down at my most basic attire, I glowered. I was in jeans and a t-shirt. My hair was piled on top of my head and I only had mascara on. Well, it was going to have to do. I’d add a little more eye make-up, but the rest of me wasn’t changing. I couldn’t imagine there’d be very much dressing up in Big Sky anyway. I heard the shower start.
Thinking back about Seth, I realized that more time than I should have allowed had gone by without any communication from me. I needed to let someone back home know that I was alive, but I was dreading it. Not sure who w
as the lesser of all evils, I walked to my room and grabbed my cell phone out of the nightstand drawer. Sitting down on the bed, I powered it on and waiting for all the messages to pop up. There were another two voicemails and five text messages. Not even bothering to look at who they were from, I pulled up my contact list and hit send.
“Hello?” a deep voice on the other end answered.
“Daddy?”
“Chandler? Dear God, child, please tell me it’s you.” His worry sank into my bones and guilt washed over me.
“Hi Daddy, it’s me. I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to worry you.”
“Of course, I’ve been worried. Where in the world are you?”
I clammed up. I wanted to tell him so bad. Anything to take away the sound in his voice. “I don’t really want to say. I’m sorry. But I had to leave, please understand that.”
He was quiet on the other end for a few beats. “You do realize that I almost called the police. If it wasn’t for Syd telling me that you’d been calling her, I would have sent out every police officer in the state of Maine to find you.”
“Yes Dad, I know. But I’m not even in the state anymore.”
“You’re not?”
“No.”
“Where are you?” he asked again.
I should tell him. Just so someone knew where I was. I called my dad for a reason. I trusted him. He was the one I always went to when I was a teenager; I talked to him about boys or any other issue I was having. Most girls were close to their mothers, but I was best friends with my dad.
A tear made its way down my cheek. “Montana.”
I knew he’d know exactly where I was. “Why that far, baby?”
The wetness was now free flowing and coming down like a river. “I felt like I couldn’t breathe being under that roof for another second. I didn’t know what else to do. I want you and Mom to know I didn’t plan this, and I didn’t want anybody to talk me out of it. I just had to go, so I left. I got in my car and drove until I realized I was coming here.”
