by Ivy M. Jones
"I'm not worth it, Justin. The baby is, but I'm not." I really didn't want him to know it, but my emotions were all over the place with him. I was afraid, contrite, and beleaguered to the point of exhausted acceptance by my guilt. But with him, I also felt safe, secure, wanted. I didn't want that to end, but I knew it would if I told him the truth. I'd killed his cousin, the father of my unborn child. It was my fault.
"How can you say that? Is this about your parents? 'Cause I have to tell you, I'm this close to finding them and giving them a piece of my mind. You don't do that to your kids, no matter how bad they fuck up. That's just not cool," he panted, obviously angry.
"I'm sad that they're choosing to deal with it this way, but it has nothing to do with them or what they've said. It's about me, Justin. I'm not a good person. I've done stuff I'm not proud of. Made decisions that have had horrible consequences. I'm not going to drag you into my life when you deserve so much better than that!"
My voice broke at the end and came out louder than I had intended. Quickly, I darted a look at the door, hoping that I hadn't caught the attention of any of the other guys. When I looked back at Justin, his eyes were intense, pinning me in place.
"Decisions," he said, biting the word out.
"Yes."
"Consequences?" Again, the word was bitten out.
"Yes."
"Getting pregnant?"
"Not that. Never that. This baby is a blessing. To me, to your aunt and uncle. Even to Tyler's memory, if you want to think about it that way," I said. I wasn't trying to defend myself. There was no defense for what I'd done.
"You have to tell me what I can do to fix this, pussycat. I want to- no, I need to fix this for you. What can I do?"
I just couldn't deal with it. Sobbing, I crumpled to the bed, curling into a ball. "You c-can't f-fix it. He's already d-dead."
I was too wrapped up in my emotional overload to note what Justin was doing until I felt the edge of the bed sink down near my hip.
He didn't make a sound. Didn't try to talk to me. Just sat. After a while, his hand came out to rub against my back, and I felt the weight of my emotional burden get so heavy I couldn't breathe.
"I killed him, Justin. It's all my fault."
Silence.
"I'm sorry," I sobbed.
"You didn't kill him, Andy. He wrecked his car. He was drunk. That's not your fault." His voice was soft and he hadn't stopped rubbing my back.
"I let him leave... We agreed it was fucking better that way!" I sobbed, desperate for Justin to understand my culpability.
"But Andy, you weren't even there the night he died. I don't understand..." His words trailed off and then I heard him inhale sharply, putting it together. His hand on my back stopped moving.
"August thirty-first. That's what you said, Justin."
"Yeah. That's what I said." I felt his hand move away. "He left your place and he was still drunk?"
"I thought he was sober. He was the one who remembered the condom, fat lot of good it did. But I let him go. He got in his car and drove away and wrapped it around a tree." I choked, panic lodging in me, having finally spoken the truth and knowing that Justin would never smile at me again. I could feel the darkness threatening.
There were pinpricks of light and dark in my vision, but I didn't bother to fight them. I must have gone limp because Justin grabbed me.
"Stay with me, Andy!" He was shaking me, and when passing out seemed imminent, he flipped me to my back on the bed.
"You stay with me! Burning my hair stinks, pussycat."
He was yelling into my face, but all I could do was shake my head, my eyes rolling back and my lids sliding shut. Then, I registered the press of his lips on mine, soft, like a caress. He was kissing me.
I didn't know what to do. I was losing the battle with the incoming darkness, but his tongue sliding across my lower lip made it hard to remember that. Was I supposed to kiss him, knowing that I'd eventually pass out?
Then, it didn't matter. His hands brushed against my waist before snaking under my shirt and I gave up trying to think. All I could do was feel. It felt like his hands were everywhere, and I didn't even realize I was kissing him back until I heard him moan into my mouth.
Our bodies became tangled, wrapped around each other as we rolled around on the bed, desperate to get closer to one another. He was hard and thick, pressed into the V of my legs, and I raised my hips slightly to put him where I needed him.
Then his hands were peeling my shirt over my head and I returned the favor, removing his. His hands moved up to my breasts, squeezing them and playing with my nipples through the cotton cup. He pulled the fabric away on one side, setting my breast free and quickly took it into his mouth.
I arched my back at the sweet sting of his teeth and tongue against the sensitive bud. Before my back hit the bed, he moved on to the other side, freeing that one as well, then assaulting the nipple in the same way.
He moved so fast, I was dizzy. I could feel him all over my body, pressing, stroking, sucking, licking... I was drugged, overdosed on Justin and I didn't care. Perhaps it was a holdover from almost passing out, but I felt disconnected from reality, only able to focus on him and what he was doing to me.
His hands moved down to the fly of my jeans but I took over before he could do anything. I had my pants kicked off and my underwear to my ankles before he could stop me.
I didn't want to think about the secret I'd been carrying around, about how I'd never get to touch Justin again or see him smile at me. I just wanted the pain, the nightmare, to go away for a few minutes. And I knew Justin could give me that reprieve even if it was only just this once.
I didn't even notice that he'd removed his pants but I felt his bare legs twine with mine and he was kissing me again. Then his hand gripped my waist. They went lower, brushing against my belly button, making me shudder against him. Then lower, until he was running his fingers up and down my slit and I could feel him slide easily against me.
"Oh, fuck. You're so wet," Justin breathed into my neck.
I arched into him, pressing his fingers deeper. His free hand came up and caught my ponytail, pulling my head back and baring my neck to his lips. From the tip of my chin, he kissed and licked while his fingers continued to stroke me deeper and deeper, his thumb brushing against my clit lightly.
"Justin... More, please!" I begged.
He moved, rolling us to our sides so that we were facing each other, his fingers still relentlessly pleasuring me. The hand in my hair twisted as he wrapped my ponytail around his wrist, locking my head in place.
His lips crashed against mine. Our tongues tangled. The intensity of the kiss was both brutal and explosive. I couldn't get enough of him and it was as if he couldn't get enough of me either.
My hips bucked against his hand and he complied, driving his fingers into me, stroking my slick heat.
"Oh god!" I mewled into his mouth.
"Come for me, pussycat. I wanna see you."
Then his mouth was back to mine and I gasped against his lips and tongue as my orgasm climbed higher and higher, threatening to fling me into oblivion.
With a gentle pull, Justin gripped my ponytail to remind me that he had me pinned safely to the bed and I let go. Stars exploded behind my eyelids as my climax overtook me and I twitched and writhed next to him until the last few aftershocks allowed me to settle back to the bed.
We lay panting until I realized that he was still hard against my hip.
Slowly, I removed his hand from between my thighs, smiling a bit when he moaned his regret at the forced retreat. I pushed gently, rolling him to his back and he moaned again when I placed a kiss against his belly button, nipping gently before I moved further down.
"Pussycat..."
I let him feel my smile against his skin then slid his boxers down until he had to lift his hips to help me get them off.
He sprang back against my cheek and I rubbed against him like that, letting his length caress across
my cheek to my lips. My tongue snaked out to give him a quick lick at the very top, running the width of my tongue over the head, tasting his essence where it clung at the tip.
"You don't have to do thi-" he began, but I silenced him by pressing him into my mouth. I let him slide out from between my lips with a soft pop. "Oh god, do that again."
I licked my lips and pressed him back inside, wrapping my hand around the base to grip him then slowly moving my hand up and down in synch with my mouth.
"Come for me, Justin. I wanna see you," I said, reminding him of his own words.
"Oh, fuck yeah," he groaned. His hand was still loosely wrapped in my ponytail, and until that moment, he had seemed to have forgotten it was there.
He remembered.
I was fucking him with my mouth, thrilled with the hums and groans I was eliciting, when his hand tightened in my hair. Then he was fucking my mouth, using my ponytail to hold my head in place as he gently moved, not forcing me, but definitely guiding. My hand on the base of his shaft kept him from choking me, and when I pulled back for air, he didn't hesitate to let me. But his hand never loosened. And I came right back to his silken length as soon as possible.
Sealing my lips around him, I let him thrust in and out while I sucked, his soft cry of pleasure becoming louder and louder, until he stopped making any noise at all.
He pumped three more times while I did my best to keep my hand moving in time with his thrusts.
"Andy! Oh fuck, pussycat, yeah!" he called out. Then he came, and it was so damned erotic, I didn't care that I'd basically let him pound into my mouth like a freaking porn star.
When he was completely spent, I swallowed, then licked him clean before releasing him from my grip.
"Mmmmmm," he sighed. Still on his back, he loosened his hand from my hair, only to wrap me up in both arms and pull me to his naked chest.
I was laying there, sated and warm against his skin, when I remembered how we'd gotten into this position.
"Thank you."
"And thank you, too, pussycat."
I laughed. "I meant, for helping me not pass out. It seems to be a problem since I got pregnant. I passed out once when I was in middle school, but no one ever did anything like that to help me."
"When you were in middle school? God, I'd hope not. That's just wrong, no matter how fucking sexy you are now. I feel like a pedophile just thinking about it," he laughed.
I grinned, then stopped.
"I should go." I stood and began replacing my clothes.
"Why? Because the guys are here?" I looked up at the door, shocked that I'd forgotten about the potential audience. Blood rushed to my face in my mortification.
"They couldn't hear anything, I promise," he said, trying to coax me gently back to the bed. I sat, unsure what else to do.
"I should still leave. Because of... You know... With Tyler..." I muttered.
"Look," he sighed, looking at the closed door as if he needed to leave, "I need to talk to the guys about this upcoming thing we're doing. We have to plan some practices. But I want you to stay. Hang out, relax, maybe take a nap if you want to. I'll come back as soon as our meeting is done, okay?"
I didn't look up, just hunched back down to a ball. Justin wrapped the comforter back over me, and I closed my eyes, trying very hard not to cry.
Once the door closed behind him, I scurried to get my clothes back on, then slowly opened the door. I darted a look around, saw that the coast was clear, and headed for the living room. It was silent as I rounded the corner... The room was empty. The guys must have been somewhere else in the giant apartment. Snagging my purse from the floor, I made one more cursory sweep.
I'd only spent the night. One night. And we'd fooled around. Once. So why did the apartment feel so much more real than my apartment across town?
I shook my head to clear my thoughts. Then, resolute, I left.
Justin
Five days. It had been five days since Andy had taken off from my apartment while I talked shop with the guys in the game room.
What. The. Hell...?
I'd called my mom, my Aunt Georgie. Both told me that they'd been in contact with her. Andy was even planning on coming out to see Aunt Georgie and Uncle Ed for dinner, but she'd told them we'd had a falling out about Tyler and she didn't want to see me anymore.
"But we didn't! I have no idea what she's talking about. Something came up, but she left before we had a chance to discuss it!" I yelled out at Aunt Georgie.
"You don't get to deafen me over the phone, Justin Bradley Moreland," Aunt Georgie said sternly.
"Sorry, Ma'am," I muttered apologetically.
"Now, if there's something you need to say to the young lady, then you need to talk to her. I'll not be your go-between."
"I don't have her number. And I don't know where she lives. That's why I was calling you," I explained.
"Oh. Well..." I could hear her thinking on the other end of the line. "You did promise to sort through the rest of Tyler's stuff. And I didn't tell you not to come over tonight. I guess it can't be helped that you have a house key, now can it?"
I could almost hear my Aunt Georgie grinning in the phone. That same conspiratorial grin Tyler used to pull. He had come by it honestly.
"Yeah," I mumbled. "Can't be entirely sure when I'll be able to stop by..." I hemmed and hawed.
"Well, we have company coming at 6:30, so you'll need to work around that..." she explained, trying for blatant deniability.
"Understood. I'll see you tonight, Aunt Georgie. Thanks for reminding me about that promise," I chuckled lightly, even as I recalled that I would have to go through Tyler's things.
"Most of what's left is going into the trash, or Goodwill. But I hope you get what you need," she answered.
There was no extra car in the driveway at quarter till seven when I pulled in. If Andy was there, she didn't drive. Then I realized, I didn't even know if Andy had a car.
Striding up to the door, I pulled out my keys and quietly unlocked the door, hoping not to give anyone a heads-up. I kicked my shoes off without thought, then walked into the house, up the stairs and into Tyler's room. I'd brought a cardboard box, which I promptly opened, pulling the folds open to start filling it.
Aunt Georgie and Uncle Ed had been going to a grief councilor, I knew. As part of "letting go", they'd both already been in to collect the sentimental things they wanted from Tyler's old room, leaving an collection of miscellaneous things behind.
I ignored Tyler's college text books. As I flipped through it, the paperwork in his desk got tossed into the trash as I determined each stack had no value to me. Next I perused the posters off the walls and the stack of CDs next to his stereo. I picked through and pulled a few to keep. Not my taste, but the guys might want them.
I boxed his hacky-sack and the little Courage trophy that Andy had held. Into the trash went some more stuff from the top of his dresser. I cleared his bedside table off as well, tossing pretty much everything into the trash.
Trying to decide what to deal with next, I sat down on the bed, hearing it squeak slightly as it settled. I braced my hands behind my head and lay down, needing to sort my thoughts. Tyler had been gone for only a few short months, but so much had changed in that time, it somehow felt so much longer.
And yet... I could still see him sitting at his desk, spinning a football in a spiral straight up into the air a few feet, then catching it right back in his palms without even watching as we talked about all sorts of things. Most times, Nicki would be sitting on the beanbag chair in the corner- unless we were talking about women.
But always with that football in his hands. He always had a ball with him, it seemed. Even with his injury, he still loved to play. And whenever the opportunity came, he would‒ flag games, pick-up games, anything he could. Even with the shadow of completely ruining his shoulder lingering overhead, he still wanted to play.
He'd felt guilty passing up a local show to play ball with friends until I'd smac
ked him upside the head. "You don't even like our music, dumbass. Just go play."
"But you're my cousin," he'd said, shrugging, as if that was reason enough.
"And I'll still be here after the show. Come to the after-party instead."
Since he really hadn't liked our music, the after-party had been a decent enough compromise. And he never traded on my name to get lucky while there, either, which said a lot about him. He really had been a great guy.
My mind drifted back to Andy.
Downstairs, I could hear the sounds of talking, but I couldn't make out Andy's voice for sure. She could be down there, sitting with my family, laughing, eating. And here I was, being a pussy and hiding out in Tyler's room, reminiscing.
Man up, Moreland.
I sat up, grabbed the box, and hauled it downstairs. Loudly.
When I got to the kitchen, I decided that acting innocent would be too obvious, so I simply pushed through the swinging kitchen door and dropped the box on the laminate countertop.
Three faces looked up at me. Two seemed completely shocked to see me, but Aunt Georgie had to hold back a smile.
"I'd like to grab one of his old footballs and maybe some pictures, but this-" I gestured to the box- "is really all I need." I looked right at Andy. "Hi, pussycat."
"H-hi," she managed. She had a fork lifted half way up to her mouth but it was frozen there.
"We need to talk. I'll wait until you're done with dinner but we're having this discussion tonight."
She didn't nod or agree in any other way. I gave her a clipped nod and turned to wait in the living room.
"Have you eaten, Justin?" I heard my aunt ask me. Turning, I shook my head. "Then just sit your butt down and have some chicken with us. Whatever you and Andy need to talk about will go easier with some food in you."
I darted a look at Andy. She was still stuck with her fork in midair. I moved to an empty chair at the table. Aunt Georgie popped up to get me a plate and silverware. After she sat down and pulled her chair in, the near-silence of her serving me a heap of potatoes and fried chicken was broken by the clatter of a fork dropping on a plate.
