Stripped

by Zoey Castile

  The ache in her voice hits me right in my chest. Fallon looks like he’s been sucker punched. Guilt makes his eyes crinkle at the corners.

  “I’m sorry, Mary. I’ll handle this. I’ll talk to Dad, okay? You shouldn’t have to be here. I should’ve gone home.”

  She nods, then rubs her face with her palms. She’s putting on a front so we don’t see how much she’s hurting, but she is. I know because I recognize the mask she’s putting on. I’ve been doing that all year now.

  “Let’s play,” she says. She manages a ROWS. I put down LOVE, and for a moment, I look up at Zac. He’s already staring at me, a sad smile pulling at his mouth.

  “Pass,” he says.

  “When is your next trip?” Mary Lee asks him.

  Fallon’s face goes blank for a moment, and he fidgets with his tiles. “Vegas. I’ll figure something out with Dad, okay?”

  That’s not what his sister asked him, and he seems to avoid it. Maybe he doesn’t want to acknowledge that our arrangement is going to be over soon. But something about the way he avoids my stare bothers me. So I ask him.

  “When is your Vegas show, Fallon?”

  His eyes flick to mine, but he can’t hold my gaze, so he stares at the open mouth of his beer.

  “June thirty.”

  My heart twists painfully. That’s in two weeks.

  “Oh.”

  Mary looks back and forth between us, sensing something’s wrong. “I have to pee.”

  When she leaves, Fallon tries to speak. “Robyn—”

  “Were you always going to leave so soon?”

  He shakes his head. He gets up and sits beside me. My senses are accosted with his scent, the warmth of his arm against mine, his eyes glassy and pleading.

  “It was a surprise. We were supposed to leave in September. But Vegas wanted us, and it’s always been the dream. I wanted to tell you, every day since, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I was afraid you’d end it.”

  I have two choices. I can end this, whatever this is, now. I can go upstairs to my apartment and avoid the hell out of Fallon the way I’ve avoided so many things in the past year. I can cut this string that’s wrapped itself around us, keeping us together. Let go.

  Or, I can see this through. What’s the difference between ending things now or in September? Everything comes to an end, doesn’t it? This is no different. This way, I can have my cake and eat it, too. The most amazing sex of my life and what was supposed to be a no-strings-attached romance.

  Then why does the idea of him leaving feel like a wrecking ball through my chest?

  “Hey, you should’ve told me sooner,” I say, pressing my palm on his chest. He places his hand over mine. Thumbs his finger across my skin. “But I want to see this through.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. I just, I want to break a rule.”

  He quirks his eyebrow up. “What rule is that?”

  “I want to ask another question.” I lick my lips, my heart beating loudly in my ears. “Do you want to be my date to Lily’s wedding?”

  He looks taken aback. “You want to bring me to your best friend’s wedding? Won’t that bring up too many questions?”

  “It’s okay if you don’t want to. I just want to spend as much time with you as possible before you go. And I can’t miss it, so—”

  “Then, yes,” he cuts me off. “I’m yours. Whatever you need.”

  I’m yours. For just a little while longer, Fallon is mine.

  And I’m going to make those days count.

  15

  Take Your Time

  ROBYN

  In the morning, I go through my mail. When I see the Savannah College stamp on the envelope, I open it quickly. It’s my first official rejection to grad school.

  You didn’t want to go there anyway, I tell myself.

  I can’t wade into those thoughts, because Fallon texts me. Mary is on a train back home. Meet me downstairs in five.

  We haven’t spoken since last night’s Scrabble match. To mine and Mary’s surprise, Fallon beat us by forty points using QI. Still, he called his dad and told a white lie for his sister with the provision that if she does it again, things won’t go down the same way. He’s a good brother.

  I pull my weekend bag over my shoulder and head down. Yaz is at Ricky’s apartment for the weekend and some of his boys are covering his shifts.

  Downstairs, Fallon is waiting for me against his car with two cups of coffee in hand. I take one and inhale the bitter aroma of fresh-brewed coffee. I take a sip, the dark roast coating my tongue. “How’d you know I drink it like this?”

  “Well, there’s no sugar or milk in your kitchen,” he says, opening the door for me. “But the first time we met you had a full pot. You know I read somewhere that people who drink black coffee have the potential to be psychopaths.”

  I roll my eyes and settle into the front seat. “Maybe I just like the pure taste of caffeine. I’ve been drinking coffee since as long as I can remember. My dad used to pour me some in one of the little cups from my tea party set. Back then I used to load it up with sugar. But I lost the taste.”

  “No sweets,” he says. “Got it.”

  Part of me wants to say, “It doesn’t matter because you won’t have to remember this soon.” The other part of me that enjoys that he notices such little details wants to cling to him and not let go.

  “Am I allowed to know where we’re going?”

  He shakes his head. “You’ll see. My buddy Aiden suggested it. As much as he tries to deny it, he’s a romantic at heart.”

  “You are, too,” I say.

  “What?”

  “Romantic at heart.”

  He takes my hand and kisses my knuckles. We drive north, and by the time we pass Sleepy Hollow and drive along the Hudson River, I know where we’re going. We park in the North-South Lake Campgrounds of the Catskill Mountains. There’s a great big lake with people rowing and kayaking. A small beach is full of early summer people barbecuing. It’s too cold to swim, but that doesn’t stop the hordes of kids who splash into the cold water.

  I remember our date in the park. I wanted to go in the rowboats. When I turn around to face him, Fallon is smiling down at me.

  I press my hands against his chest and reach for a kiss. “Thank you.”

  We rent a tandem kayak, put on the puffy orange life vests, and set off into the dark water. We paddle, our rhythm in sync from the beginning. The day is bright and clear, and we are surrounded on all sides by lush green trees. The tops of the nearby mountains are capped with snow, but the sun is so bright, it feels like the height of summer.

  We reach a patch of lily pads, and I think of the wedding. I failed my Lily.

  “Where’d you go, Robyn?” Fallon’s fingers run down the length of my ponytail, then settle at the back of my neck. We rest the paddles across our thighs.

  “I was just thinking about Lily.” I reach out to touch one of the flowers, not yet blooming. “I need to make it up to her, but I don’t know where to start. The wedding planning is over. It’s not like I can usurp the maid of honor title back from Sophia.”

  Fallon drags his fingers across the cold surface water. I feel his cool fingers on the back of my neck, droplets trailing down my back. It’s a nice reprieve from the heat, and I love that he knows just where to touch me.

  “Maybe she was right. Maybe you need to talk. But get through the wedding first. You can’t talk about what’s bothering you if you can’t put it into words. Come, try it out with me. I’ll be Lily.”

  I look over my shoulder. “You’re nuts.”

  He shrugs, but smiles. “I’ve been called worse. Come on. Use your words. I’m Lily.” He coughs and makes his voice more high-pitched. “Robyn, you’re the worst maid of honor ever. Why?”

  My laugh echoes in the wide-open space. “She doesn’t sound like that.”

  “Work with me, Flores.”

  “This is dumb.” But I go along with it. “I’m sorry. I�
��ve been late to every single fitting, dinner, and shower. I try to be there, but I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  “Why are you late?”

  I look up at the green trees, so perfect and serene. No one expects anything from trees but to grow when they’re supposed to. I should be a tree.

  “Sometimes I have a hard time sleeping. Then I oversleep. Then I’m a mess the next day. It’s a domino effect, really. Eventually, there’s too much to catch up on. At one point, I realized there was so much to do that it was easier to not do anything at all.”

  “Sounds like you were depressed,” he says.

  “I shouldn’t be. My life is great. My parents are freakishly happy together. I had a boyfriend who thought he loved me, but I wasn’t attracted to him.”

  “Are you talking about me?” Fallon asks, laughing.

  “No, stupid. This was an ex last year. I’d have to be unconscious to not be attracted to you. And even then, I’d be dreaming up ways of how to sex you up.”

  “Good. Continue.”

  “I think I’ve spent my whole life trying to get into the perfect school, to have the perfect career, to meet . . . to meet the perfect man.”

  “So far you’re batting zero?”

  “I don’t know how to answer to sports references,” I say playfully. “But I did the perfect school thing and I burned out. I gave my everything to trying to have a stable career and I’m an elementary school teacher. I love my kids. You know the other day one of my girls drew a picture of me? I was a knight. I told them a story about a lady knight who rescues her best friend from an evil wizard. I made that up. But she saw me that way, and I wonder, what if I saw myself with a fraction of the love that my students see me with? They deserve better.”

  “So do you, Robyn.”

  I realize we’re moving, and he’s carrying both of our weights across the great lake. I shut my eyes against the cool air. I deserve better. Now I just need to figure out what that better thing is.

  “What about the perfect man?” Fallon asks, his voice a whisper in the wind.

  “He’s leaving soon.” I turn to look at him. My voice hitches, and I feel my lip tremble, so I turn to face the trees again. “But at least I know I found you. Even for a little while.”

  “Robyn—”

  A fish jumps out of the water and startles me. It flops on my lap. I yelp and laugh, trying to get the little guy back in the water.

  “Don’t move!” Fallon shouts, but it’s too late. We’re rocking too hard, and then we’re plunging into the freezing cold lake. I hold my breath and try to let myself out of the harness. Fallon unhooks himself, but I’m stuck. He grabs me, his hands already freezing from the water, my chest tight from holding my breath. He pushes me up toward the surface. When I break the water, I gasp for breath.

  “Fallon?” I shout his name. I’m still buckled to the kayak, soaked from head to toe. “Fallon?”

  A nearby couple in a kayak paddle over to us. Fallon surfaces, and seeing his face is a relief.

  “You okay?” the couple asks.

  “We’re all right,” Fallon says. “Lost a paddle. Thank you.”

  They paddle away, and when they leave, Fallon splashes me with water. I splash him back.

  “Can you get back in?” I ask, wiping water from my eyes. My teeth chatter and I hold on to the one paddle we have left.

  “I might tip you over again,” he says. “Can you paddle back alone? I’ll swim.”

  “You’ll swim?”

  “I was raised on a bay, baby,” he says. Then he dives under the water and swims back.

  My fingers are numb as I grip the paddle and drag it through the water. The wind picks up, and threatens to push me. But I keep going, trying to stay a safe distance near Fallon.

  I reach the beach first. One of the park workers helps me drag the kayak in and I explain that Fallon is swimming over here.

  He appears from the shore, water dripping from his light-brown curls, some sort of green plant wrapped around his ankle. Even covered in lake sludge, he’s the hottest man I’ve ever seen.

  I cup his cold face with my hands. “Are you okay?”

  “Nothing a hot shower won’t fix.”

  The ranger brings out towels and blankets. We pay for the lost paddle, and then we’re on our way back to the parking lot. I fuss over him the entire way, even though there’s nothing I can do to help. We just have to get somewhere warm. Still, he never lets go of my hand, from the lake to the car to the ride leading into a small town. We park behind the bed-and-breakfast and ring the doorbell.

  An older woman greets us.

  “Sorry,” Fallon says, all charm and smiles. “We fell in the lake.”

  “Oh dear,” she says, leading us in. “Don’t worry about the floors. I’ll take care of that later. Are you the Fallons?”

  Fallon looks taken aback. “The reservation should be under Fallon, yes.”

  “That’s right,” she says, flipping open a book. “Mr. and Mrs. Fallon. Well, this is no way to spend your anniversary. I’ll take you up to your room. I told the girl on the phone we only had the honeymoon suite. But she said you wouldn’t mind.”

  “Girl?” I ask.

  Fallon sighs. “Mary Lee.”

  “Follow me,” the old woman says.

  I smirk as he waits for me to go and says, “After you, Mrs. Fallon.”

  FALLON

  Mrs. Fallon.

  I like the sound of that, especially when Mrs. Diaz, the bed-and-breakfast owner, keeps referring to Robyn as such. Robyn smirks, and even though we’ve been had by my little sister, we play along with the ruse. It’s a lot easier than explaining the real situation. That in a couple of weeks, we won’t be together. That my little sister is getting back at me with what she thinks is humiliation. Being pretend-married to Robyn isn’t humiliating.

  In fact, it’s terrifying that I like the sound of it.

  The room is small, with a rustic woodsy feel. Everything is a deep green pine color, and the bed is solid wood. There’s a fireplace, and the warmth of the room feels nice as we shiver our way in.

  “I’ll be right in with towels. You’re a bit earlier than I expected, but it’s no trouble at all.”

  The minute Mrs. Diaz leaves, I chuckle. “I’m going to kill Mary.”

  Robyn grabs a blanket from the love seat near the fireplace. She shivers as she wraps it around her shoulders. She looks up at me and I close the distance between us. I rub her arms over the blanket, and she leans into my chest.

  “It’s okay,” she says, and winks. “Plus, we’re getting topnotch service.”

  I’m going to kiss her, when Mrs. Diaz knocks and pushes a small food cart into the room. There are towels stacked on the bottom shelf. The top shelf has a bucket with iced champagne, strawberries, and a box of decadent chocolates.

  “If you need anything,” she says, “my husband and I are on the first floor to the right. Happy anniversary.”

  There’s a cheerful twinkle in her eye, and for a moment, I’m worried we’ve lied to her. But when she’s gone, the guilt vanishes.

  Robyn lifts the champagne bottle. “Nice. Want to do the honors?”

  I take the bottle from her, suddenly hot despite the goose bumps on my skin. I undo the foil.

  “I’ll be right back.” Robyn darts into the bathroom.

  My heart, the Epic Fool, has taken over my senses. Right now, I’m not a guy on a date with a girl. Right now, I’m celebrating an anniversary with the woman I love. Fuck me. How am I supposed to leave her?

  No, the Epic Fool scolds me. None of that. Pop that champagne.

  So, I do as my heart commands. There’s a bunch of noise coming from the bathroom, water running and items being moved around. I blow on the bubbles that threaten to rise from the bottle, and pour two glasses in the delicate flutes. They look ridiculous in my calloused hands, but I’ll roll with it.

  “Fallon, come in here.” Robyn’s voice is a siren song, and I’m helpless ag
ainst it, walking toward the bathroom holding two glasses in my hands.

  “Fuck me,” I sigh.

  She’s naked.

  She’s naked and I’m hard as hell and she’s standing in the middle of a giant bathtub brimming with bubbles. There are candles. Where did she find candles? Oh, right. Honeymoon suite. Of course, there are candles. But who gives a flying fuck about candles when Robyn Flores is naked.

  I nearly drop the champagne, but then I take a breath to steel myself.

  “You are perfect,” I manage to say. I mean every single word. Her long dark hair is still damp and curls at the ends, covering her breasts. Her waist is so small, with hips that bloom outward like the curves of mountains. Her thighs are muscular, powerful, and I picture them draped over my shoulders, my face nestled between them. Her long calves disappear into the bubbles, water still rising around her. She sits, waiting for me. Just looking at her sends fire alarms going off along my skin.

  “What are you waiting for?” she asks, her hand extended to me. That hand is a lifeline to her.

  I set the glasses down on the rim of the large bathtub and undress. I take her hand and step into the warm water. It sloshes in small waves with the movement of our bodies finding each other. She faces me, straddling me. Soapy water moves around us as we kiss. My dick rests against her pussy. Just one slip and I’d be inside of her. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  She bites at my neck, sucking fresh bruises onto my skin. I find my way through the water and search until I find the treasure I’m looking for. I sink my fingers into her silky wetness.

  “Ohh, keep doing that,” she moans, pulling my hair and pressing her slick body against mine. I pin her against me, fuck her with my fingers until she cries out and is nothing but trembling against me.

  We lie back in the bathtub. There’s water all over the floor, soaking into the bath mats and our mountain of clothes. She lies down on top of me, her ear right against my heart.

  She turns her face up to mine. My heart seizes when I look at her, and this feeling, this feeling of wholeness and calm, is more terrifying than anything else I’ve experienced.