by Portia Moore
I shake my head, but I can’t tell him what really is wrong, and I don’t know how to make something up right now. So I just bury my face in his chest and cry until the tears start to slow, and he keeps rubbing my back and stroking my hair the whole time.
“Babe, it’s going to be okay. You’re just overwhelmed,” he says softly. “Listen, the party is almost over. Hang out back here for a bit and we’ll go home where you can eat ice cream, and I’ll rub your back while you watch chef Ramsay tell people to fuck off.” I take in the horribleness of the moment because I’ve never felt safer more at home than in his arms in this moment.
I nod, still sniffling a little. “Okay,” I say quietly, more than a little embarrassed by the scene I’ve caused.
True to his word, Alex wraps things up as quickly as he can once the reception is finished, and although we’re quiet on the drive home, he rests his hand comfortingly on my thigh and leaves it there.
The lights are all off in the apartment when we walk in the door, and he leads me into the bedroom, closing the door behind us and bending down to run his hands through my hair, kissing me softly. “I’ll go get your ice cream,” he tells me with a grin.
“I don’t want any ice cream.” I lean up and kiss him this time and it’s sweet and warm. His lips brush softly over mine; I respond instantly, leaning into him. His body solid, broad and muscular, a safe haven for mine. He holds me against him, one arm wrapping around my waist, and I hear him sigh, feeling the warmth of his breath against my lips. His hand slides up under my shirt, his palm slides up my back, and then both of his hands are at the edge of my shirt, pulling it up over my head. He unclasps my bra as he tosses the shirt aside, his warm hands moving over my bare breasts.
I moan, leaning up to kiss him again, and then he’s moving me backwards, picking me up by the waist to lay me back onto the bed. I wrap my arms around his neck, wanting him as close to me as he can get.
He kisses me again, his tongue sliding against mine as he groans softly, rocking his hips against mine for a moment in an eager, needy motion before he pulls back and rises up on his knees, looking down at me hungrily as he strips off his own shirt in one fluid motion.
I watch, enjoying the sight of the muscles in his chest and arms flexing, letting my eyes drift downwards as he reaches for his belt, undoing it. He slides his pants off in an easy, practiced motion.
We’re both naked in a matter of moments. His skin against mine is a relief, making me feel breathless and relaxed all at once as the warmth of his body melds against mine. He pushes the hair away from my face gently, thumb stroking my cheekbone, and then he moves down my body slowly, kissing his way inch by inch, his mouth dragging over my collarbone, my nipples, my stomach. His tongue between my legs makes me arch my back and cry out, my legs spreading wider as he slides his hands under my ass and lifts me up, holding me in place so he can have all he wants of me. His tongue flicking in quick strokes and then making slow circles, the fingers of one hand moving up to tease me before sliding inside of me slowly.
It doesn’t take much to bring me over the edge of climax. Alex knows my body by now. He’s learned the spots where I like to be touched most, the rhythms that I respond to—he’s learned some things better than I ever knew them myself. There’s nothing demanding or selfish about his touch. Every caress, his tongue, his body, are all sweet and gentle, pulling me into an orgasm that washes over me like a cresting wave, making my back arch and my body shudder, my thighs tightening around his head as I quiver on the bed.
He moves up my body then, all of that muscular hardness leaning over me as he angles himself between my legs and presses the tip of himself against me, piercing me slowly as he bends his head to kiss me again, his hand on my waist, sliding up, reaching to brush his fingers over my nipple as he sinks into me.
He groans as he feels me envelop him. I’m already dripping for him, my legs coming up to wrap around his waist and my arms around his neck. I moan softly as I kiss him, my fingers buried in his soft hair. We move together in perfect sync, my hips rocking against his with each thrust downwards. I arch up, pressing my chest into his, luxuriating in the sensation of his skin against mine. I can feel the changes in his body as he gets closer and closer to the edge. The hitch in his breathing, the tension in his muscles, the way he loses his careful rhythm and becomes quicker, needy, more desperate for the approaching release. I press my mouth against his, clinging to him as I hear him gasp my name, feel him thrust harder, and then he is inside of me as deeply as he can go, hard and throbbing, his orgasm wracking him with waves of pleasure that I can feel vibrating through him as he kisses me again and again. We stay locked together for seconds that seem to drag on into minutes, before we roll apart, gasping and sweaty, trying to catch our breath.
Alex is a cuddler. It’s something I’ve always loved about him. The way he immediately molds his body into the curves of mine or pulls me against him when we’re done. The guys I’ve been with usually wanted space, room to breathe and to cool down, and I never minded since I wanted that myself. But Alex still wants me even after he’s come, and I find myself needing him afterwards.
He falls asleep quickly, the way he always does. I lay in the curve of his body, fingers entwined with his. I realize that I can’t tell him, ever. Whatever happens in the future, I won’t tell him about Jackson. I can’t lose him.
This secret will stay a secret. It’ll have to.
8
Alyssa is bouncing off of the walls from the minute Alex drops us off at the airport. I don’t know if she’s really excited or if it’s the three Starbucks coffees she drank in the airport. I don’t mind flying but I’m not the biggest fan of it, especially after being on a jet, but I push that memory far into the recesses of the darkest pit of my mind. As we head through the airport I watch Alyssa get a few glances from men. She’s beautiful but looks especially so next to me right now. I’m bundled up in my usual cozy flying gear—a pair of comfy, stretchy black leggings; a long, olive-green top made out of soft cottony material; and a cashmere cardigan that I’ve had for such a long time. I don’t even remember where I got it—I may have “borrowed” it from Mel.
Alyssa, on the other hand, is wearing high-waisted, ripped black skinny jeans, a lime-green tank top tied above her navel with paint splashed “artistically” over it, and a jean jacket several sizes too big hanging off of one shoulder. She has a black canvas backpack slung over her arm and skater sneakers in a neon checkered pattern. Her hair is in a sleek ponytail, and she’s wearing a full face of makeup like she’s a gorgeous model doing a shoot from some rocker-type urban brand. It’s impressive, I think, as I watch her go through security. Her and Alex are so different. I’ve never seen him have the kind of energy she has.
As soon as we’re through security she goes off in search of food, coming back with a smoothie and a candy bar. She’s definitely not going to shut up on the plane. I pray to God I didn’t forget my headphones. “Do you want anything?” she asks, taking a long slurp of her smoothie. I shake my head.
“I’ll probably grab a bottle of water or something. Come on, let’s find our gate.”
Once we’re on the plane and settled in, Alyssa turns to me. “You know, I like how Alex is with you.”
I look at her curiously, pulling out my tablet and setting it on my lap along with my headphones. “What do you mean?”
She shrugs. “He’s younger with you. He used to be like a real adult, you know?”
I stifle a laugh. “A real adult?”
“Like…wearing suits. He had the fancy house, a wife—that whole thing that they sell you on, you know? What you’re supposed to have when you’re grown up. The whole package, everything but the dog and kids, and well…” She bites her lip, trailing off. “You know about that.”
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “I do.”
“Anyway, he’s so much happier now, with you. When he was with Holly, it was like he was walking on eggshells all of the time, careful about everyt
hing he said and did, making sure to never put a foot wrong so that he stayed on the right path. Now it’s like…he can be whoever he wants. You don’t care if he’s a bartender, or if he has a warehouse for an apartment, or if you eat at that one shitty diner he loves so much every date night. You just love him for who he is, and it’s made a difference with him. I can tell.”
If it was anyone but Alyssa I’d think she was insulting me but I know that she is genuinely impressed. Alex is happier with me, even his sister who barely knows me can see it. We have a great life together. We’re good together. Telling the truth would do nothing but blow up not only our life, but Jackson’s, and Alex’s with his dad. I’m doing the right thing, for all of us.
As soon as our feet hit the pavement Alyssa lights up with excitement. “We need to party!” she says animatedly. “Let’s go out, Madison, please!? I’ve never been to Chicago. I want to see what the nightlife is like here. I bet you know all the best places?” she whines.
I’m exhausted, and all I want to do is go to where we’re staying, flop on the bed, put on some bad TV and order take out. I can’t think of anything that has made me feel older than an entire day around Alyssa’s boundless, energetic enthusiasm.
“I don’t know, I should probably go see my mom and try to get some work done,” I tell her reluctantly.
“Boo! You cannot talk about how much better Chicago is than New York if you don’t hit the town with me. Don’t be a grandma!” she exclaims, linking arms with me, and I sigh. I could use a few drinks…
“Okay, I’ll take you to one of my favorite places but I’m not staying past midnight,” I say quickly. She claps her hands and wiggles her hips and I laugh. We check in to the Airbnb and Alyssa manages to get me to take her sightseeing. We make a quick trip to Millennium Park, and when I say quick, I mean we hang out for about two hours. We have pizza for lunch, which of course she says is better than any she’s ever had in New York, and it still counts even though she’s been in New York less than a month. I convince her to let me take a nap and she does, promptly waking me up at seven with a bottle of Patron.
“We have to pre-game!” she says and I can’t help but start to feel a little excited. We turn on music and start to get ready
While she’s in the shower, I dig out a favorite pair of tight, dark blue skinny jeans, a black crushed velvet cami with a lace edge, and a thin black waxed cotton jacket to throw over it, along with black leather flats. I run a flatiron through my hair and do some simple makeup. I’m putting silver hoops in my ears and digging for my black flats when Alyssa comes out of the bathroom and whistles.
“You look amazing!” she says excitedly, and then twirls in the doorway. “How do I look?”
She’s wearing a tight black PVC miniskirt, a black cropped shirt, and huge, sparkling hoops in her ears. She washed the gel out of her hair and curled it, and her eyes are done in swaths of black eyeliner.
She’s gorgeous and knows it.
“You’re a ten,” I say, smiling at her. “Come on, I need a drink.”
We request an Uber and head downtown. The city is lit up, the skyline glowing as we sit in the back of the Nissan that picked us up. Alyssa was used to New York, so I’m surprised that her face is practically pressed to the window as we drive through the city. “I love seeing new places,” she says enthusiastically, and some of her excitement rubs off on me. It’s been a while since I’ve been back, and I’m happy to be back in my city.
The club I’ve picked is dimly lit, more bar than nightclub, which has always been more of my scene, and Alyssa doesn’t seem to mind. There’s a local band playing on the stage, three girls in leather, gelled blonde hair and thick eyeliner, and Alyssa looks at them enviously as we find a seat and I pick up a drinks menu. “I always wanted to be in a band,” she says, fiddling with a napkin, “but I can’t sing. And my dad insisted that I learn to play an instrument other than the guitar or drums in school.”
“What did you play?” I wave at one of the waiters passing by.
“Clarinet.” Alyssa wrinkles her nose.
“Can I have a Tequila Sunrise?” I ask as the waiter stops at our table.
“Mojito for me please, and two lemon drop shots,” Alyssa adds for her drink order and I blink at her.
“Shots? Really?”
“Oh come on,” Alyssa says, grinning at me as she reaches across the table. “We’re in Chicago! You might be my sister-in-law one day! It’s time for some bonding, don’t you think? And what better way to bond than getting drunk together?”
“I don’t think Alex is marrying me anytime soon,” I insist, and it reminds me of his words at Tiffany’s brunch, asking me if I’d want that too one day, a wedding and a marriage—with him. It makes my stomach tighten to think of it, and I don’t know if it’s guilt over Jackson or excitement at the idea of marrying Alex. I hate that my past, a small period of my life that I had no clue would affect my future, is going to haunt me forever, through every happy moment of our lives.
But isn’t it better than not having those happy moments together at all?
I definitely need a drink. It’s been a while since I’ve really let loose. So when the waiter comes back to our table bearing two drinks and two shots, I beam at him. “We’ll take two more of those shots,” I say, and Alyssa squeals happily.
Before I know it, we’re both drunk.
My tolerance isn’t what it used to be, and Alyssa probably weighs a hundred pounds soaking wet. Alyssa downs another shot, this one something neon blue and sticky sweet, and looks over at me, her lips pressing together. “I need to tell you a secret,” she says, her words slurring together slightly.
“Yeah?” My own voice sounds thick, like it’s coming from further away.
“I wasn’t completely honest about why I left school.”
“You weren’t?” My ears prick up a little at that. “What happened?”
“I mean, it’s true I don’t really like school. And I want to be an artist, and have my own studio…all that’s true. That’s…really…important…” she manages the last part one word at a time, emphasizing each with a jab of her finger.
“But…” I encourage.
Alyssa’s mouth twists. “I did a really bad thing. Promise you won’t tell anyone?”
“I promise.”
“I slept with my roommate’s boyfriend,” she whispers. “I feel so bad about it. I didn’t mean to…but he was taking a class with me, and I was helping him with homework…and they’d been fighting and he was talking to me about it, and we were drinking…and he’s so hot, Madison. Like…Brad Pitt in the ’90s hot. He’s sweet and artistic too, and then he tried to kiss me and I didn’t say no, because I really wanted him to, and I knew I shouldn’t but before I knew it we were having sex…” She looks down at the table, her cheeks flushed. “I should regret it, but it was so good. It wasn’t like it usually is. We just…fit together, you know?”
“Yeah,” I whisper. “I know.”
“I couldn’t face her. And I wanted to leave school anyway, and it just seemed like that was the last straw.” Alyssa’s mouth twists again, and I can see tears shining in her eyes.
“Hey.” I cover her hand with mine. “Listen,” I say, trying to make the words come out clearly. “We all do dumb things sometimes. Everyone makes mistakes. I slept with my boyfriend’s dad. I didn’t know, but it still happened, and when I found out I felt horrible.”
Alyssa stares at me and after a few seconds her eyes go wide. “You…you slept with Jackson?”
Oh shit! What the hell did I just say!
No more drinking!
“No!” I say quickly. “No. Of course not, I’m not an idiot! And if I had, I wouldn’t tell you.” I laugh, trying to play it off, but I’m too out of it to know if I’m doing a good job or not.
God, I’m a liar now!
“I mean Jackson is hot as fuck.” She giggles, playing with an ice cube in her drink. I need water, right now!
“He’s not hot
, he’s Alex’s dad!” I tell her horrified.
“Yeah Alex’s dad, not mine. I’d do him in a heartbeat!” she says biting her lip with a chuckle. My stomach feels sick.
“Ugh, that’s uh…disgusting. And he’s married,” I say, hoping my tone is playful instead of defensive.
“I don’t really know Cassandra,” she says, shrugging. I look at her disbelievingly.
“I mean I know her…of her, but I don’t know her. She’s not my mom or anything,” she continues.
“You’re not going to tell Alex any of this right? He’d freak out.”
As he should! He already has a girlfriend that screwed his dad. If his little sister did too…ugh now there is a hurricane in my stomach.
“No, I wouldn’t. Besides I know we’re both drunk and not serious at all.” I laugh, probably too hard, but Alyssa just smirks.
I have to use the Uber app three times to get a woman since I don’t want to get in a guy’s car with both of us so drunk. Luckily we’re only ten minutes from the apartment.
On the ride back to our place we sing loudly to the music the driver plays, which sounds amazing, and I make sure to tip her really well for being so awesome. When I make it in and fall into the bed I realize it’s one of the best beds I’ve ever slept in, and I also realize it’s the first time in a long time I’ve slept alone. I FaceTime Alex and he picks up on the third ring.
“Hey,” he says. He’s in bed, his hair messily amazing, and I wish I could run my hands through it.
“I miss your mouth,” I tell him sneakily and he gives me a crooked smile, showing his perfect teeth.
“You’re drunk,” he chuckles.
“I am. I wish you were here to take advantage,” I say, giving him my sexy pout.
“You only miss my mouth?” he asks me, with a boyish grin that makes my heart melt. I wonder how I ever survived without seeing that smile before I met him.
