Changing Teams

by Jennifer Allis Provost

  I slid out of bed and found Britt huddled against the wall, her arms wrapped around her waist. “Baby,” I said as I knelt before her, “Are you okay?”

  “I get that I shouldn’t have climbed onto you like that,” she choked out around her sobs. “But did you have to push me off the bed?”

  “I’m so sorry, baby,” I said, pulling her into my arms. “I was having one of my nightmares, and when I woke up I thought you were part of it. Are you hurt?” I probed her shoulders and the back of her head, feeling for bruises. God, please don’t let her be bruised.

  “A nightmare made you freak out like that?” Britt asked.

  “Yeah. They always do.”

  “God, Sam,” she murmured, tracing her fingertips down the side of my face. “What the hell do you dream about?”

  “Terrible things.” I touched her cheek, my fingers coming away wet. “Don’t cry, baby.”

  She frowned and ducked her head. “Sorry. Hurts.”

  I placed a hand on either side of her face and forced her to look at me. “Please, baby, don’t cry. This is all my fault. I’m so sorry, baby.” She smiled, but her tears didn’t slow. She was so beautiful, her honey brown eyes shining in the dim light, and I couldn’t help but kiss her. Her mouth was sweet, sweeter than the wine we’d had at the wedding, sweeter than anything I’d ever tasted. I stood, lifting Britt under her thighs as I turned and deposited her on my bed.

  “What are you doing?” Britt gasped.

  “I think it’s kind of obvious,” I said, kissing a path down her neck.

  “Sam,” Britt said. “Sam, I know you don’t really want to—”

  I kissed her between her breasts, then I slid up her body so my face was directly above hers. “Oh, you know what I want, do you?”

  “Like you said after you pushed me off the bed, I think it’s kind of obvious.”

  “Wrong, baby,” I said, raining kisses onto her face. “God, I want you so much.”

  “After you pushed me, I thought you hated me,” she whispered.

  “Hate you?” I said, gazing down into her brown eyes. “I could never hate you. Said I’d love you even if you were a midget, remember?”

  Britt laughed as she wrapped her arms around my neck, sinking her fingers into my hair. “And I’d love you if you were rich. Or poor. Or somewhere in between.”

  “Would you, now?” I asked, grazing my thumb across her cheek.

  She smiled the sweetest smile I’d ever seen. “I would.”

  I kissed her lips, her cheeks, then I nudged her thighs apart with my knee, but I hesitated with my cock poised at her entrance. Should I go get a condom? That would be smart. Wait, I still hadn’t bought any new condoms, and the ones in my bathroom cabinet were more than two years old. How could I have forgotten condoms? I’m a guy, I should be on top of these things.

  I looked down at the woman in my bed, and decided that condoms didn’t matter. Well, I hoped they didn’t matter, but that would be up to Britt. I knew I was clean, and Britt had mentioned on more than one occasion that she’d been single for over a year. Of course, there was still the threat of unintended pregnancy, but I pushed that out of my mind. If that happened, I’d let Britt make the decisions and support her all the way.

  Still, my biggest fears loomed over me: what if I couldn’t do it? What if I disappointed Britt?

  “What’s wrong?” Britt asked.

  “I, um, forgot to buy condoms,” I admitted. “I still only have the old ones. And, um, I don’t want to get you—you know.”

  Britt smiled tightly. “It’s okay, I have that birth control implant,” she said. Well, that was one less thing to worry about. “There’s one in my bag, inside pocket.”

  I got off the bed and located the pocket, and the little foil wrapped package inside. Once I’d rolled it on, I climbed back on top of Britt. Her honey brown eyes were gazing up at me, so full of trust and love I froze in place. Of all the times to have stage fright.

  “All set?” she asked.

  “All set.”

  When I still didn’t move, she said, “Sam, we don’t have to—”

  I rubbed my cock against her, and her words dissolved into moans. “I think we do, baby,” I murmured. “I need you so much I fear I might burst. Is this okay?”

  Britt tensed for a moment, then she relaxed underneath my body. “It’s okay.”

  Thank fucking God for that. I worked my way inside her, inch by inch, until I had no idea of where I ended and she began. Finally I was where I needed to be and I held her close, my forehead pressed against hers, feeling our hearts beating in time.

  “I had no idea it could be like this,” I said. I felt at one with the universe and bigger than the universe, complete unto myself and part of something amazing; I felt like my life’s sole purpose was making Britt every bit as happy as she made me.

  Britt moved her hips beneath mine, sending electric shocks of pleasure throughout my body. “It can be even better,” she said.

  “Show me, cowgirl.”

  Show me she did.

  Afterward, I laid on my back with Britt’s head resting on my chest, feeling like the king of the world. For the first time in thirteen years I’d let myself be who I really was, Real Sam, as Britt had put it. And Real Sam wasn’t plagued with nightmares from the past, or terrified his aunt would burst through the door and ruin his life some more. Real Sam was happy.

  Real Sam was completely in love with Britt, and he had no idea how to tell her.

  Out of the blue, Britt pinched my nipple. Hard. “Hey,” I said, swatting her hand away.

  “If you hadn’t been all about my nipples at Nash’s, we probably wouldn’t be here now,” she said.

  I smoothed back her hair, then I kissed her forehead. “Do you like being here now?” I asked.

  “Yeah. I do.” Britt arranged herself so she was propped up on an elbow, her soft brown waves falling onto my chest. “Have you ever been with a woman? Before me, I mean.”

  “Not like I was with you,” I said, squeezing her bottom. “And before you ask, I’ve never been with a man like that, either.”

  “What?” Britt clambered on top of me and planted her hands on my shoulders, staring me in the eye. “I thought you’d been gay all these years.”

  “Oh, so being gay means you’re promiscuous too?” I demanded.

  “No, of course it doesn’t,” she said, ducking her head. “But if you’ve never been with any boys…”

  “I’ve messed around a bit,” I said. “Me and Michael dated for over a year, you know. We were hot and heavy for a while, but I never wanted him that way. You know, he’s the only guy I’ve dated since I came to New York.

  “Really?” Britt asked. “I thought all the boys liked you.”

  “Of course they do,” I replied, Britt laughing as she buried her face in my neck. “Anyway, since you think it only counts when there’s penetration, then I guess none of what I did before tonight counted.”

  Britt laid her body flat atop mine with her arms crossed on my chest, her chin resting on her wrists. “Sam MacKellar, are you saying I popped your cherry?”

  “Britannica Lynn…” I almost said “you surely did,” but that would have been a lie. I’d already lied so much, and I just couldn’t do it any longer, especially not to her. “Britannica Lynn, I wish you had.”

  She frowned. “What does that mean?”

  “If you really want to know, I’ll tell you,” I replied, working my fingers into that silky hair of hers. I would never disparage drugstore conditioner ever again. “I’ll warn you, it’s a hard story to hear.”

  Her brow creased. “Did someone hurt you?”

  “Yeah. Someone did.”

  “Is this what started the nightmares?” When I nodded, Britt relocated again, this time pressing herself against my side and wrapping herself around me in one of those octopus moves I loved. Once she was settled, she said, “Okay, I’ve got you. Tell me.”

  “When I was ten, both of my pare
nts were deployed to Afghanistan. I was sent to stay with my Aunt Sophia, but she’s not really my aunt. She’s more like a third or fourth cousin. Anyway, there was no one else who could take me without me having to change schools, so to Aunt Sophia’s I went.”

  “I take it all was not well with auntie,” Britt said.

  “Sure wasn’t.” I held Britt for a moment, burying my face in her hair. “I assume you know, darlin’, that a man’s body checks its circulation every morning? With a most embarrassing side effect?”

  “As evidenced by this morning’s wood,” Britt mumbled into my shoulder.

  “Well, Aunt Sophia saw it as an opportunity.” I squeezed my eyes shut, remembering the worst days of my life. “The second morning I was in her house, I woke up with her on top of me.”

  Britt gasped. “Oh my God.”

  “God had nothing to do with it,” I snapped. “I tried hiding from her, locking my door, but she always found me. Or she used a screwdriver and took the doorknob right off.”

  “Did you tell anyone? Call the cops?”

  “No. If she’d been taken away, there would have been no place for me to stay. That’s pretty scary to a ten-year-old.” I snuggled Britt closer, and warned, “This might be the worst part.”

  She squeezed me. “I’m here. Tell me.”

  I sighed. “It got to the point where she’d walk in on me in the shower, in my room while I was changing, putting her hands all over me. Since I didn’t want anything to do with her—”

  “And you were frickin’ ten,” Britt snapped.

  “—my cock didn’t react. One time, she was real mad that I wasn’t getting hard, and yelled what’s wrong, are you gay or something? So I said yeah, I am.”

  Britt reached up and loosened my fingers; while recounting my aunt’s misdeeds I’d clutched her hair so tightly I nearly pulled it from her scalp. “Sorry, baby,” I murmured, kissing her forehead.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “But I don’t understand. Your aunt thought you were gay, so you decided you were?”

  “Not exactly. When my mother returned from overseas, Aunt Sophia gave her an earful about her nasty, deviant son. You see, my aunt was so disgusted by the thought of a homosexual nephew, she never touched me again.”

  Britt snorted. “Homosexuality is bad, but it’s okay to rape a kid.”

  I shuddered; for so many reasons, I hated that word. “She was sick, but my parents were awesome. Instead of being disgusted, they supported me and my gayness. They found groups of other gay youths for me to hang out with, campaigned against bullying, and made sure no one ever talked down to me because of my sexual preference. By the time I figured out that being gay meant kissing boys, I’d been out for years.”

  “But you were never gay.”

  I brought her hand to my mouth and kissed her fingertips. “No. I never was.”

  “When we met at Nash’s studio, and you were making a big deal about my cleavage, you weren’t gay.”

  Hadn’t we already established that? “No, Britt, I wasn’t. When I first saw you in that orange dress—”

  “You lied.”

  My blood turned to ice in my veins. “I was lying to myself,” I said. “I went from being a scared kid to someone with an identity he never wanted to—”

  “To someone who lies.” Britt got out of bed and threw on the skirt and blouse she’d worn the day before yesterday. “At any time, you could have said hey, maybe this gay thing isn’t for me. Maybe I’ll give the chicks a try. But you didn’t do that. You kept right on lying.”

  “Every time I thought about a woman I saw my aunt coming at me in the dark,” I shot back. “You think I didn’t try to be with women? That I didn’t want women? I did, but I couldn’t.”

  “We got on pretty well,” Britt snapped.

  “Sorry my childhood trauma didn’t manifest while we were kissing,” I sneered.

  “What happened to you was terrible,” she said as she pulled on her boots, “but you’re pretty terrible too.”

  I jumped out of bed and grabbed Britt’s arms. “Baby, I’m sorry,” I said. “I never wanted to lie to you. I’ve never told anyone what happened with my aunt, not even my parents.”

  “So I can’t verify any of it.” She smirked, and added, “Convenient.”

  “What, you think I’m lying?” I demanded. “What kind of psychopath would make that shit up? I shared the worst moments of my life with you!”

  “You want to hear about some of my worst moments?” she countered. “Imagine being a single girl in the city, sick to death of being alone, then all of a sudden you meet this perfect guy. Perfect as in, too good to be true perfect.” Britt tossed back her hair and speared me with her gaze. “Then you find out that he really is too good to be true—because he’s a fake.”

  I staggered back as if she’d knifed me in the heart. “You think I made all that up?” I rasped. “Britt, I swear to you on my life I’ve never been with anyone romantically before tonight. Ask around, try to find someone who fucked me. You won’t.”

  A tear slipped down Britt’s cheek. “You’re right, I won’t, because I won’t be asking. Stay away from me, Sam MacKellar, if that’s your real name.”

  She turned her back on me and grabbed her bag, then she headed toward the door. I got there before her, putting myself between her and her escape. “Samuel Milton MacKellar,” I said. “I’m named for my grandfather, who was a general in World War Two. He was named for his father, a lieutenant in World War One. Remember, I mentioned them to your stepfather?”

  “Great, your name’s real,” she said. “I’m still leaving.”

  “What about all the times we’ve been together?” I pleaded. “The times we hung out, holding hands? The time on the ferry, or watching movies, or when we had oysters? That was all me and you, Britt. Just me and you.”

  “Sam.” Britt raised her head, revealing more tears. “Let me leave.”

  I placed my hand on the nape of her neck. “Britt, baby, I don’t know if I can. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  “Yeah, well, you might be the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.” She reached behind me, and grabbed the doorknob. “Sam, please, let me leave. If I really mean something to you, let me leave.”

  I did the only thing I could do, and stepped aside. Britt was out of my apartment in a hot second, leaving me more alone than I’d ever been. I leaned my forehead against the closed door, and said, “I love you, Britannica Lynn.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Britt

  “I love you, Britannica Lynn.”

  After I’d stormed out of Sam’s apartment I leaned back on his door, my emotions flying around my head like those winged monkeys from Oz. God, making love with Sam had been perfect, and I’d hoped that my fantasy about him really being bisexual instead of gay had come true. But it turned out that nothing about him was true.

  Then I heard him say he loved me, and I almost ran back into his arms. Was he lying when he said he loved me? Yeah, probably. From his own admission he’d lied about everything for most of his life. I did not need that in my life; the fact that I wanted Sam more than anything was just something I’d have to learn to deal with.

  And there was no way last night was his first time. No one is born knowing moves like that.

  I burst out of Sam’s building into the chill morning air; being that it was early on Sunday morning, the streets were still rather empty. I searched my purse for my phone so I could see what time it was, then I remembered leaving it on Sam’s kitchen table before we’d left for the wedding. Crap.

  Well, I sure as hell wasn’t going back up to his apartment, and filed my phone situation away to deal with at a later date. I resolved to hail a cab, but swore when I looked inside my wallet. Since the wedding had been open bar, I’d left all my cash at home.

  Whatever, I’ll just walk. I looked left and right, mentally calculating how many blocks it was to my apartment, when I heard the door behind me. I looked over
my shoulder and saw Sam standing there, clad only in a pair of jeans.

  “You forgot your phone,” he said, holding the device toward me.

  “Thank you,” I said. I grabbed my phone from his hand, then I started down the street.

  “You’re walking home?” Sam called after me. “Britt, at least take a cab.”

  “No cash,” I replied without stopping. Sam jogged in front of me, blocking my way.

  “I’ll pay,” he said.

  “I don’t want your money,” I said, trying to slip around him. Not that that worked.

  “Then let me drive you,” he implored. He grabbed my elbow and said, “Please.”

  “Don’t touch me,” I snapped, stepping out of his reach. “Can’t you just leave me alone?”

  “I will, as soon as I know you’re home safe.”

  I stared at him, the most stubborn, most infuriating man I’d ever encountered. However, it was cold, and I didn’t relish the thought of walking all the way to my place. I weighed my options, and decided that Sam driving me would put me less in his debt than owing him cab fare.

  “Fine. Drive. Just keep your hands off me.”

  Sam winced, but he nodded. After he went up to his apartment for a shirt and some shoes, he had the garage attendant bring out the Beemer. Once the car had been brought up Sam put my bag in the backseat, and we got in. We made it an entire block before he started talking.

  “Britt, baby, I’m so sorry,” he began. “You were right. My whole life, I’ve been a fake. The only person I’ve ever been myself with was you.”

  I stared out the window, refusing to acknowledge him. After a full minute of silence, he sighed.

  “I wish I could say what it is about you that made me not want to hide,” he continued. “When I first saw you at the studio, I thought you were beautiful, but I see beautiful people all the time. Then we hung out that night at Catalonia, and I found out that you’re smart, and funny, and…” We stopped at a red light, and Sam fell silent. I looked at his reflection in the window, and saw him rubbing his eyes.