Bared Souls

by Ellie Wade

  “I’m going to grab a drink. Either of you need a refill? Beer? Pop? Water?” I ask the guys.

  They both decline, so I start for the kitchen.

  “Smells great, ladies. Sure you don’t need any help?” I offer, though we all know I’m just trying to be polite. I can’t even make Kool-Aid on my own.

  “Nope, we’re all set,” Quinn says. “Thanksgiving is an art at my house. With six women, we have it down to a science.”

  I have to agree that she’s stirring the contents of that pot like it’s her God-given mission. Alma, on the other hand, seems to be faltering a bit. She’s attempting to roll out crescent rolls, though she appears to be almost punishing the poor dough. There’s a streak of flour across her nose, and it about does me in.

  She told me a couple of months ago that she was a decent cook. Something about if she didn’t make the food, she didn’t eat. But I’m guessing the meals she made when she was young were simpler.

  “So, your parents don’t celebrate Thanksgiving, right?” I ask Alma, teasing, wondering if she’s ever made this type of food in her life. She told me once that they didn’t do holidays, so I already know her answer.

  “No. Remember, they don’t do holidays and definitely not Thanksgiving,” she says.

  “Why’s that?” Quinn asks.

  “In the words of Lee-Anne, pilgrims are greedy murderers.” She shrugs.

  “Wow. That’s lovely. With every tidbit I learn about your childhood, I become more curious as to how you even survived.” Quinn laughs before yelling, “Oh shoot.” She moves the pan off of the stovetop.

  I take what appears to be a burning mishap of some sort as my cue. “Alma, can I borrow you for a sec? The washing machine’s messing up. Something’s up with your clothes. Were they all pink before you started the load this morning?”

  “What?” Alma gasps. “No!”

  “Go, go. I’m fine,” Quinn says, peering into the pan.

  I follow Alma toward the back of the house as she hurries toward the laundry room. She stops inside and throws open the washing machine lid. I close the door behind us.

  “They look fine,” she notes.

  Stepping behind her, I wrap my arms around her and slide a hand down her pants. She’s wearing stretchy black yoga pants today. Second to a skirt, these are the preferred bottoms that she wears.

  “Leo,” she chastises. As my finger slides into her, she loses some fight. “I have to help Quinn.”

  “I think she’ll be fine for a minute. You, however, need to relax. Aren’t you a good cook?”

  “Yeah,” she answers. “But Quinn’s like a drill sergeant in there. I’ve never seen her so bossy. She’s stressing me out.”

  “Let me help you.” I run my other hand up her sweater and under her bra. I pinch her nipple while the other hand alternates between her entrance and her clit.

  “Leo,” she whispers, pushing her head back into my chest.

  “Does it feel good, baby?” I kiss the skin at the nape of her neck.

  “Mmhmm.” She rides my finger.

  I pinch her clit. She turns her face to the side, and my lips meet hers. I capture her cries in my mouth as she comes undone.

  “Feel better?” I kiss her again when her body has calmed.

  “Much better.” She grins. She turns in my arms and reaches for the button of my jeans.

  I grab her hand, halting her progress. “Later.” I chuckle. “Quinn might have a coronary if you’re gone too long.”

  “True,” she says. “I love you.” She stands on her tiptoes and presses her lips to mine.

  “I love you.”

  She checks herself over before opening the laundry room door.

  “Wait,” I say.

  She turns back to me.

  I lick my thumb and rub it across her nose. “You have flour on your nose.”

  She giggles. “Thanks,” she says and steps out.

  As I walk back to the living room, I hear her tell Quinn that it was a false alarm and the clothes are fine.

  “False alarm, huh? Interesting. Your cheeks are pretty red there,” Quinn calls Alma out.

  “Really? I don’t know why.” Alma washes her hands in the sink.

  “Oh, I think you do,” Quinn teases.

  “You’d know since I haven’t been able to enter our dorm room at night for a month.” Alma chuckles.

  “Touché. You got me there.” Quinn grins. “You’re going to burn the potatoes, by the way.”

  “No, I’m not. They’re going to be perfect.”

  Their playful bickering continues, and I turn my attention back to the game on TV.

  A while later, the five of us are seated at my large dining room table. A feast of food sits in the center of the table, and it all looks and smells delicious. We raise our crystal glasses filled with champagne, and Alma toasts to good friends and good food.

  The food is incredible, and I make sure to tell the girls that repeatedly. I can’t remember the last Thanksgiving meal I had where I wasn’t high on something. This entire dinner is a whole new world for me. I have other friends besides Ethan. I’m fucking in love with a girl. And, damn … has stuffing always been this tasty?

  I suppose being sober has its perks.

  “What’s the secret ingredient in these mashed potatoes, Quinn? Fucking ecstasy? They’re incredible,” I say.

  “Those are all Alma,” she answers.

  I internally kick my ass for having doubted Alma’s culinary skills. The urge to ask Alma to marry me on the spot and feed me mashed potatoes for the rest of our days surfaces, but I push it down. Instead, I shove another bite of the starchy masterpiece into my mouth.

  “They have sea salt, fresh ground pepper, butter, sour cream, milk, cream cheese, and a little garlic. They’re totally not healthy, but my parents would’ve been fine with having kale smoothies for Thanksgiving, if they celebrated, so I go a little overboard on some of the dishes. I actually adapted it from Amos’s mom’s recipe. She doesn’t add the garlic or cream cheese.”

  “Alma’s potatoes are better than my mom’s.” Amos shoots Alma a reassuring smile.

  “Thanks. Though to be fair, his mom is an incredible cook.”

  “She is, but so are you,” he tells her.

  “And so is Quinn,” Alma adds, and Amos quickly agrees.

  “Well, thank you, ladies. This is really nice,” Ethan says.

  “You’re welcome,” Quinn answers. “So, during Thanksgiving dinner, my family likes to go around the table and have everyone say something that they’re thankful for this year.”

  I scoff, “God, your family sounds so nice and normal.”

  Quinn grins. “I’ll go first. I’m thankful for my awesome roommate, becoming a Sigma Sigma Sigma—the best sorority on campus—for meeting new people, and for my mom’s new job.”

  Ethan says, “I’m thankful that I finally saved enough money to buy a car and that my dad’s cancer is in remission.”

  “I’ll go!” Alma says. “I’m thankful for Eastern and my scholarship, for being a short drive away from my bestie, for a job that I love, friends that I love, and new experiences with people that I love.” Her eyes catch mine.

  Amos says, “I’m thankful that I aced my midterms and currently have a 4.0. I’m thankful for the new people I’ve met and for a mutt of a girl who crashed into my life, covered in mud, years ago.”

  Alma smiles across the table to Amos. I find it odd that he isn’t thankful for Quinn—without whom, he would only be getting action from his hand—but whatever. If he’s dumb enough not to feign being thankful for her, that’s on him.

  “You have to say something, Leo,” Quinn says.

  “Alma,” I answer simply.

  She will forever be the answer to anything good in my life.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Alma

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to go home with you? I don’t mind. I feel bad that you have to face your dad on your own,” I say to Amos over
my half-eaten plate of eggs.

  He shakes his head. “No. You’ll have more fun here. Plus, I don’t think it will be that bad. What does he have to yell at me about? My grades are perfect.”

  “I know, but I’m afraid he’ll find something.”

  “It will be fine. I swear,” he says before taking a drink of his coffee.

  It’s been a while since Amos and I have had a meal alone together. He stayed over with Quinn last night, but she had to get up early to go help her mom and sisters cook the food for Thanksgiving. Many of the local restaurants are closed, but Luca’s Coney Island is open, and his breakfast food is just as good as the chili-cheese fries that Leo’s obsessed with.

  I’m a little confused with Quinn and Amos’s relationship. They love to be together, especially to have sex, but he doesn’t seem to miss her when she’s gone, and vice versa. I crave Leo every second that I’m not with him. Heck, I’d never tell Amos, but I’m missing Leo like crazy right now.

  I ask Luca for a large chili-cheese fry with a side of ranch and ketchup to go, and he smiles down at me knowingly.

  “Your mom sure will be happy to see you. Give her a hug for me, okay?” I say to Amos.

  “I will,” Amos says, snatching the bill from Luca before I can grab it.

  “Let me pay for my meal or Leo’s takeout at least.”

  “The fries are on the house,” Luca says, clearing our plates.

  “See, the fries are on the house. No worries.” Amos hands Luca some cash and wishes him a happy Thanksgiving.

  “Thank you, Luca. Hope you have a great day,” I tell him before Amos and I head out, the bell of the diner chiming as we exit.

  I walk Amos to his car and say good-bye before heading the other direction, back to Leo’s house.

  He’s still in bed when I get back.

  “I come bearing gifts.” I hold up the white plastic bag containing his fries.

  Leo scoots up in his bed until he’s sitting against the padded headboard. “You’re awesome.”

  He takes the bag from me and pulls out the large Styrofoam container.

  “How was breakfast?” he asks through a mouthful of fries.

  “Good. He’s on his way back home.”

  “You want to stick with our plan for the day? It’s not too late if you want to do the Thanksgiving dinner thing with just the two of us.”

  “No, we had a big dinner last weekend. Takeout and a movie marathon sounds perfect.”

  “I just want to make sure you’re happy.” He dips a fry in ranch and then ketchup and tosses it into his mouth.

  “Or do you want Thanksgiving food, so I’ll make those potatoes again?” I quirk up a brow.

  “I would do almost anything to have them again.”

  I shake my head with a grin. “I can make them for you every weekend. It’s not hard.”

  “Ah, babe, that would be incredible.”

  “Okay, it’s a plan.” I pull off my shirt and head toward the bathroom. “Finish eating and then come join me in the shower. Afterward, we’ll put on jammies and veg on the couch all day. I say we watch The Notebook first.”

  “I was thinking maybe Endgame—you know, the Avengers,” Leo calls from the bed.

  “No way,” I say in response, turning on the shower. “You said my pick.”

  “Your idea of a great movie is some sappy, romantic crap?” he groans.

  “Today it is.”

  Before I step into the shower, Leo grumbles, “Fine, but only because I love you.”

  We spend the day watching all of my favorite romance movies and order Chinese takeout for dinner. Snuggled up next to Leo on the couch, I reach onto the coffee table and grab the fortune cookies included with our meal.

  I hand Leo his. “We have to read our fortunes. That’s the best part,” I exclaim.

  “Okay, ladies first,” He nods toward the cookie in my hand.

  I remove it from the wrapper and crack it open. Taking the small rectangular paper in my hand, I read aloud, “You may love many people but only one will burn into your soul forever.” I stare at the paper for a moment, re-reading the sentence in my head. “Wow.”

  “That’s deep,” Leo says.

  “Yeah,” I shake my head with a grin. “They’re usually not that serious. Now, I want to know what yours says.”

  Leo snaps his fortune cookie in half and pulls out the paper. “To truly find yourself you should play hide and seek alone.”

  I chuckle. “I don’t know if that one is supposed to be meaningful or silly.”

  “Not sure. Maybe both,” Leo shrugs. “Let’s trade. I want you burned into my soul.”

  “No way,” I hold the paper against my chest. “I’m keeping this one.”

  “You keep your fortunes?”

  “The ones that I like. I put them in my journal or on my vision board. This one may get framed,” my lip tilts up into a smile.

  “Oh, yeah?” Leo’s beautiful blue eyes sparkle with happiness.

  I lean toward Leo and place my lips against his. “Yeah, I think so.”

  Today was a perfect day. There were no roommates or parties, homework or classes … just Leo and me. My world is the best when it’s just the two of us and no outside distractions.

  Leo’s in bed, scrolling through his phone, when I enter the bedroom after brushing my teeth.

  He smiles and sets his phone on the nightstand. “Ready?”

  “Yes.” I turn off the light and climb into bed, wearing one of Leo’s shirts and my panties.

  Leo, clad in just his boxers, wraps his arm around me, and I nuzzle up against him.

  “Thanks for a great day,” I say. “I think this has been my favorite Thanksgiving of all time.”

  “Same,” he says and kisses my temple.

  His warm skin under my palms, the smell of his body wash—clean and woodsy—and the sheer perfect nature of the day have me wanting every part of Leo. Who knew I’d fall so hard for the rude guy I ran into at that Italian restaurant on my first day here? It’s unnerving, just how much I feel for him.

  Sitting up slightly, I swing my leg over his abdomen until I’m straddling his middle. I reach for the hem of my shirt and pull it over my head.

  “Well, isn’t that an incredible sight?” His tongue wets his lips, and his gaze darkens as he takes me in.

  Raising his hands, he cups my breasts and tugs on my nipples. A zing of pleasure shoots down my body, and I hum, rocking my hips against him.

  “Oh, baby. You want to play?”

  I nod slowly and drag my fingers down his chest.

  “Take off your panties and straddle my face.” His voice is hoarse.

  I freeze. “What?”

  “Come here. You’ll like it.”

  I crawl up Leo’s body and hold my center over his lips. His warm breath brushes against my heat, and I push into him. He softly kisses me there, and my legs quiver. My hands grip the headboard to steady myself.

  “Just move where it feels good,” Leo instructs from below.

  My head falls back, and I groan as his greedy tongue licks me. My body tightens as his finger pushes up into me, and his tongue continues its voracious dance.

  “Ah,” I gasp.

  The sensations are overwhelming, and I thrust my hips, wanting more. Leo curls his finger, and he licks harder. I moan, rocking faster as a flush of fireworks explodes throughout my body.

  Leo slows his tongue as I slump against the headboard when I come down from my high. I swing my leg off of him and fall on my back.

  He peppers kisses up my arm and across my chest before he reaches my mouth. “How do you feel?”

  “Amazing.” Lifting my arm, I thread my fingers through his hair. “I want you,” I say.

  “You have me.” He kisses my lips.

  “I want you … inside of me. Now.”

  “You’re ready?” he asks. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure. I don’t want to wait anymore.” I reach my hand into his boxers and wrap m
y palm around him.

  He removes his boxers and traces a path of kisses over my mouth, down my chest and my stomach, and against the sensitive area between my legs. I’m panting with want.

  “Leo,” I moan, pulling him up.

  He grabs a condom from the bedside table and slides it over his length. “I’ll go slow. Tell me if you want me to stop.”

  I hold his shoulders as he positions himself at my entrance.

  He slides in slowly. “Are you okay?”

  I nod against his chest. There’s only a slight stinging. He pushes in further.

  “Are you ready?” he asks.

  I nod, pulling his face to mine. I kiss him as he thrusts his hips and moves all the way inside of me. His mouth captures my cry at the sharp pain. He stays still, waiting for me to get used to him, and then he starts to move again. Each passing minute tips the scale a little bit further from the pain.

  Grabbing ahold of his butt, I pull him toward me and grind against him. The uncomfortable sting is still present, but the rest feels good. His tongue enters my mouth, and I kiss him hard, my love. He’s gentle and attentive and everything I could have asked for my first time.

  He pushes into me one last time and groans as he trembles against me. He pulls out and tosses the condom in the trash. He lies behind me and kisses my shoulder.

  “I love you,” he says.

  “I love you,” I answer.

  “I promise tomorrow will feel so much better.”

  “It was good. I enjoyed it,” I say.

  “Then, just wait until tomorrow and the day after that. It’ll blow your mind.” He kisses the back of my head.

  “Tomorrow and the day after that?” I tease.

  “You’re going to want to do it all the time, and I will gladly be your willing partner.”

  I smile, pulling his arms tighter around me. Twisting my head to the side, I kiss his arm, and entirely content, I fall asleep.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Leo

  Life with Alma is an adventure of the blind leading the blind. Had it not been for Amos, my beautiful girl wouldn’t have experienced the emotional connection needed for childhood development. And while I had most traditional childhood experiences, I was so closed off to the world that I didn’t take the moments in. Alma walked through life, craving it, all while I hid from it. We’re two broken beings, trying to be whole, and maybe together, we are.