Use Somebody

by Riley Jean

  Liar.

  “Oh… you swing a different way?” I teased.

  Before I could blink, he had me on my back, pressing me into the couch. The breath rushed out of my lungs in surprise.

  “I will prove to you right here, right now, exactly which way I swing.”

  His smile was so playful, I started to laugh, barely trying to struggle out of his hold. “Oh! So you’re an armpit kinda guy?” I shouted between laughs, “No, no, you have an ankle fetish! I knew it!”

  Vance just shook his head at my ridiculous taunting and proceeded to tickle me crazy! I was lost in a fit of giggles, completely secure lying beneath him. He was looking down on me with a smile aglow with infectious joy and the warmth of sunshine. It felt so nice to let go and laugh with someone in these increasingly common, lighthearted moments.

  “I… was just… curious!”

  “Oh yeah? Well I was just curious what would happen when I tickled you. So far the results have been very conclusive.”

  “Don’t!” I laughed. “Stop!”

  “Don’t stop?”

  “I… can’t… breathe!”

  “Eh, breathing’s overrated.”

  He eased up on the tickling, but didn’t release his hold. Once our laughter died down, he looked directly into my eyes and told me sincerely, “My type is you.”

  I rolled my eyes, trying to lighten the mood from his suddenly intimate confession. “I’m not trying to trap you, goober. You can answer honestly.” I sounded indifferent, because frankly I was. It was an valid question—albeit a silly one—but I wasn’t trying to fish for compliments. I was secure enough with my own body no matter what his answer or anyone else’s was.

  “Honestly?” he rubbed the back of his neck, putting some thought behind his words. “It’s more about the whole package… proportions. Who wants huge boobs all up in your face when she looks like she’s about to topple over?”

  “Um,” I deadpanned, “Every man in the world.”

  “Don’t be fooled by the handful of tools you’ve known. Most guys don’t really want that and will lose interest quickly. What men really want is a little mystery, a bit of spice and a lot of class. A present only they get to unwrap. Slowly.”

  “And a tiny waist.”

  He shook his head and smiled patiently. “What fun is it to cuddle a stick? I like curves, but classy… natural.”

  I considered his answer, and decided I was impressed. Leave it to Vance to find a respectful way to objectify women. Proportions and class, huh? Were mine a good size for my frame? My eyes dropped to my chest before I realized Vance was still watching me. His eyes followed mine, flickering down before meeting mine and darkening, and I knew I needed to lighten things again.

  “Too bad… mine are fake.” I lilted.

  Probably not the best idea to keep the focus on the twins, I thought too late.

  The corners of his mouth tilted up, and his eyes sparked with mischief. “Oh really?” he probed. I could only nod beneath him, pressing my lips together to unsuccessfully hide my lying smile. He bent down until his face was only inches from mine, and just when I thought he was going to kiss me, he turned and breathed into my ear, “We’ll have to see about that.”

  He grinned again and his hands became too playful to be intimate. His fingers snuck under the hem of my shirt, pinching the flesh of my belly and hips. I had all the grace of a bull, thrashing and laughing as he tickled me without ceasing.

  “I’m going to have to inspect these to verify the validity of your statement,” he said with all seriousness, but his silly grin gave him away. And his hands weren’t in any hurry to travel north.

  He wasn’t holding me down, and I could have stopped him at any point, but instead I arched my back so he could lift my shirt higher. It seemed to surprise him that I wasn’t stopping this. To be honest, it surprised me, too.

  He paused, my shirt stopped right at my rib cage, still covering the essentials. My breathing continued to grow increasingly irregular, but neither of us were laughing anymore. He swallowed, confidence slipping, and slowly looked up to my face.

  His brows rose infinitesimally. Apprehension. Another new expression for Vance. I almost giggled at his attempt to maintain his coolness despite the condemning little furrow between his eyebrows. Was he nervous? Asking permission? For some reason I found that endearing.

  Now bunched around my midsection, my shirt formed an uncomfortable lump on my back. I wiggled a little bit to readjust, but it was no use. “This is bugging me,” I muttered, pulling the shirt up and over my head and tossing it on the floor.

  His eyes were on me in an instant, wide and wanting, soaking up every curve and detail. I interlocked my fingers and rested them under my head, posing provocatively underneath him and allowing him quite the eyeful. The familiar look of desire swirled in his olive green eyes. For perhaps the first time in my life, I felt incredibly sexy.

  “Your body…” he whispered almost reverently as a single finger slowly traveled from my collarbone to the front clasp of my bra and lower, leaving a sizzling trail in its wake. My whole body quivered at his teasing touch. His eyes followed the movement.

  “I’m going to tell you something, and you’re not gonna wanna believe me. But I’m asking you to trust me.” His eyes met mine. “Will you trust me?”

  His hands on my exposed body, his blistering heat melting right through me, his velvety voice turning me on… and he wanted to talk… now?

  I bobbed my head fervently. I would’ve agreed to anything right then. I was all ears. His smile told me he was well aware of my state of mind. He moved forward anyway.

  “First off I want to thank you for being honest the other day about your reservations. I know it wasn’t easy to open up like that, and then I got so tongue-tied I couldn’t even finish the conversation,” he chuckled. “I didn’t want to freak you out. So this time I’ve put a little more thought into what I want to say…

  “I agree that sex can be complicated—trust me, I’ve lived it. But I want you to know I believe it can also be amazing. I’ve seen firsthand that real love does exist, the kind that outlasts decades, wrinkles, and even death. And despite the pressure we all feel to indulge those physical urges, I guess it gives me hope. I’d like to believe that sex wasn’t meant to help us find love or acceptance; love starts here,” he said, placing my hand over his heart, “and sex was designed to express it. Being that close to someone you love is the connection you’re craving, the release. That ache you feel can’t be satisfied by the physical act alone.”

  There weren’t words.

  There I was, lying beneath him in nothing but jeans and a bra while he poured out his thoughts of love and desire. Between the beat of his heart against my palm and the earnestness in his eyes, I felt incredibly close to him, unguarded and vulnerable, yet somehow still not close enough.

  He continued. “That being said… I want you to know I respect your decision to wait. I respect whatever physical boundaries you want to give us. And I promise I will never, ever pressure you.”

  He said all this while holding my palm against his beating chest and lightly caressing my fingers with his. The sweet sensations of his touch were both sensual and calming. But I heard his words. I heard all of it.

  “This is the part I need to you to hear. Are you listening? Good… I know you probably have doubts that a man can be satisfied in a relationship without sex… The truth is… everything we’ve done together feels ten times better than anything I’ve ever experienced before.”

  My eyes bulged, aghast but riveted. His words struck me as crazy yet at some level I wanted them to be true. “But… how can that be… you’ve… you know… and we’ve only… you know.” I blushed and looked away.

  His gentle hand cupped my face and directed me back. He was biting that sexy lower lip to contain a laugh, or maybe a string of words. What came out was this: “Oh yes, Rosie, I most certainly know.”

  I turned red enough to earn my namesake.r />
  “You know what feels good to me?” he asked, to which I shook my head. “It’s the way you trust me enough to let me in a little more each day. The way I’m the only one who gets to see you like this. The way your body responds to my touch.” He leaned down to place a light kiss over the curve of each breast.

  At his soft exploration, everything inside of me accelerated. My back arched, hungry for more of his rough hands and satin kisses. But he was patient as ever, driving me insane with need, building the anticipation for both of us. “As strong as that wall of yours is, you give up control when we’re together like this. And that, Scarlett Rose, feels better than manipulative sex any day.”

  “Vance,” I pleaded through ragged breaths. I could feel the truth in his words, the sincerity in his eyes and the desire in his touch. How could it be that the more respect he gave me, the more I wanted him? He held nothing back yet all I offered in return were more walls. And they were getting harder and harder to hold up.

  “You can say stop anytime, and we’ll stop,” he promised. “Do you want to stop now?”

  No. With all that out of the way, I was ready for him.

  I shook my head avidly, which earned me a heated smile.

  “Your body…” he whispered again. Just the exhale against my flesh warmed every inch of me. He fingered the little jewel at my navel. Surprise danced in his dark, blazing eyes when they locked to mine. “This is my perfect type. You.”

  And then his hands were on me.

  * * *

  Later that night, after Vance showed me with his palms and fingers and lips and—oh dear—his tongue, just how sexy I really was, he fixed me a homemade hot cocoa complete with whipped cream. I stood in his kitchen barefoot but otherwise fully clothed once again. Though the way he kept looking at me made me feel like putting my shirt back on had been a lost cause.

  Despite all the ways he challenged me, he never pushed my physical boundaries. He said he respected me and I believed him. He was more than happy to take the baby steps necessary to make me feel comfortable. After some of the experiences I’d had, that meant the world to me.

  I sipped my hot cocoa and caught sight of a picture over the rim of my mug. I had noticed it before—the one on his fridge with three young boys and a golden retriever.

  “These are your brothers?”

  “Yeah,” he said, then pointed to the oldest boy. “That’s Tobias, star quarterback, graduated summa cum laude in Business Management. And that one’s Roman, semi-pro surfer, vice-president of his fraternity, majored in Public Relations. Both graduated from Pepperdine.”

  I laughed softly. “They look so small to be such overachievers.”

  “And then you have me. Townie. Professional ice cream scooper.”

  I turned from the picture and found him studying me, watching for a reaction. He wasn’t usually the self-deprecating type, and in this instance I couldn’t agree less. Maybe he wasn’t following in his brother’s footsteps, but theirs was not the only path to success. If you asked me, Vance had it together more than most.

  He had traits that no fancy university could teach… like respect, patience and kindness. Most other young adults were out partying and hooking up. And look at me—I was an emotionally stunted college dropout with a bleak future that still lived with my parents.

  “You’ll get no judgments from me. Maybe you don’t have everything figured out just yet, but you’re healthy, happy, and responsible enough to take care of yourself. That qualifies as maturity in my book.”

  A very pleased smile appeared. “I have a few things figured out. I want to start by finishing college.”

  “Finish?” I said. “Did you drop out, too?”

  “No. I earned my Associate’s Degree.”

  My jaw dropped, dumbfounded. “When?”

  He chuckled. “Around the same time you started working at Mooshi.”

  I shoved him playfully. “You never told me that!”

  “You never asked.”

  He was right. There was so much I had yet to learn about Vance. And the more I discovered, the more I liked. How had we come this far without me taking the time to really get to know him?

  “I started in May. So basically, you were going through finals that whole first month that I worked at Mooshi?”

  “Yep.”

  “That explains all those trips to Honey’s,” I laughed. “Loading up on sugar to stay awake and study?”

  “Uh… actually no.” He watched me out of the corner of his eye, unsure of my reaction. His hesitancy seemed unwarranted.

  “Then what?” I couldn’t imagine why he was nervous to answer this question. What was he going to confess?

  “I never told you this. It’s just, when you first started at Mooshi,” he said, his volume dropping in concern, “you were very… thin.”

  “Oh.” My voice had never been smaller. I couldn’t believe it. All along, he did it to feed me… I didn’t know whether to feel humiliated or endeared. Was it possible to be both at the same time? “I didn’t have an eating disorder or anything,” I said faintly. “I was just under a lot of stress and my metabolism got all out of whack.”

  He nodded. “Glad to see you looking better then.”

  He was staring at me in that way again. Too intimate and all-consuming. I cleared my throat. I’d have to revisit that later because really, I had no idea what to make of it. My thoughts were all over the place.

  “So… did you do the big graduation ceremony?”

  He leaned against the cabinets opposite from me. “Nah. I’ll take the stage when I earn my Bachelor’s degree. Why wear that goofy cap and gown more than absolutely necessary, right?”

  I nodded. “Where do you think you’ll transfer? Pepperdine?”

  He shrugged. “I can get a good education anywhere. Do you know how many colleges are within thirty miles?”

  I stared at him. “You want to stay here.”

  “Why would I leave? This is my home. I don’t envy my brothers, Rosie. Like I said, we’re different. But if you ask me, I did it the smart way.”

  “What’s the smart way?”

  “They spent their entire trust funds on their education. Four years having the time of their lives in Malibu. I went to a junior college and plan to transfer to a state school, which barely makes a dent in my savings. Then I invested the rest.”

  “Invested?” I inquired. “In what?”

  “You’re standing in it,” he said, gesturing all around us. “This condo. It was a fixer upper when I first moved in. I’ve updated the kitchen and bathrooms, redid the floors, slapped on a new coat of paint, and viola. It basically doubled in value. Especially thanks to the current market.”

  “And you did it all by yourself? Like the fireplace?” Looking around his condo, I was in awe. This was no typical home for a twenty-year-old bachelor. He had a real knack for style and quality. From the tile patterns to the warm colors on his walls, everything looked very well thought out and put together. Never in a million years would I call it amateur work. He was good.

  “Well, I needed to call in the pros for the kitchen. Granite cutting is a science and I don’t have all the right equipment. But most other projects, yes. Laying tile isn’t much different than laying brick. Painting is easy, relaxing even. The rest is just physical labor and a good set of tools.” He shot me a grin. “And I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty.”

  Oh my.

  “How’d you learn to do all this?”

  “My gramps taught me. You know the stone fireplace in the cabin? That was the first thing we built together.”

  “Wow… So you’re really going to sell this place?” I asked, wondering if he’d grown attached to his first property.

  “Yeah. I mean, that was the idea. Make enough profit to flip another one and so on. Maybe turn it into some kind of a business venture.”

  I couldn’t help grinning at him, finally seeing the man emerge from the boy. I always liked Vance as a friend, and recently I cam
e to enjoy his company in a physical sense. But now, hearing about his dreams, it made me feel something new… inspired… a fond admiration.

  I could almost picture him down the road—which was something I’d avoided before—and the one thing I could see for sure was that he was going to be happy, no matter what. And coming from someone still wandering through life, it made me really proud to call myself his friend.

  “You know… you’re kinda brilliant.”

  “Yeah?” he smiled, “Now that you know I’m not just a professional ice cream scooper?”

  Yikes. I had thought that, hadn’t I? A part of me had resented his easy life and cushy trust fund. I bit my lip and he laughed. “It’s okay, Rosie. I know it’s a little weird that I still work there at twenty. For a while it just worked well between school and home projects, considering the flexible hours and all the downtime for studying. Even so, you never judged me. You even called me responsible and mature!” He placed his hand over his heart in a gesture of mock flattery. “That’s a compliment in my book. Especially compared to… well… before.”

  I smirked. Very smooth. “Did Evelyn support your plans?” I asked. He had said she wanted to change him, but surely she couldn’t have disapproved of his dream. He had a real vision and talent in his blood.

  He frowned slightly. “Evelyn wanted the Holloway legacy. Pepperdine grad with honors, future C-suite management. But that’s not who I am. I want to make things with my hands, and that’s no white collar existence.”

  “But it’s better,” I insisted, “you get to use what your grandfather taught you, to create beauty, travel wherever you want and turn houses into homes for families. I can crunch numbers but so what? How does that really help make the world better?”

  He laughed quietly and shook his head. “Why couldn’t I have found you four years ago?”

  “I’ve wondered the same thing,” I confessed with a rueful smile. “If only.”

  We exchanged a long, thoughtful glance, ruminating on the glimpse at what might have been. That could have been us—a couple in love, blissfully ignorant to turmoil or baggage.

  Then again, I couldn’t help but wonder if Vance would have ever wanted me in the beginning, had I not been so broken. Or if I would have wanted him, given my history of poor judgment. Maybe all of this—our attraction—stemmed from situations in life that made both of us vulnerable. Maybe, had we been two perfectly healthy teenagers, we never would have felt the pull.