by Scott, S. L.
When I reach over and touch his chest, his body is hard, heavy with the burdens of our long-distance relationship before he slips away from me. “You can’t be friends with every guy you meet, Mallory. You think you’re being nice, but it’s gonna fuck us up.” Pacing, his agitation is obvious in his every movement.
My hands grip the counter behind my back as I lean against it watching him. “Are you telling me I can’t be friends with men?”
“No.” He stops in front of me. “I’m not threatening you. You can be friends with who you choose to be, but the reality is this whole night could’ve been avoided if your friends respected your boundaries. But they don’t. They’re disrespecting you, me, and our relationship.”
Tamping down the emotions I have built up from the earlier phone call with his mother, I say, “They know where I stand. They’ve just chosen to ignore the facts.”
He stops with space between us, leaning his back against the wall. “I’ll be honest. Seeing these guys hanging around you is fucking with my head. You say they know where you stand, but I need to know. I need to know when I’m in New York and you’re here, where do you stand then?”
I move in front of him, pressing my hips against his. Taking his face between my hands, I make him look me in the eyes. “I’m right here. I’m right here standing by you, only you. Always.” I kiss him—slow and light, cautiously, as I try to calm him.
“I miss you, baby.”
“I miss you like crazy,” I say, and hug him.
His heart thunders in his chest, beating against mine as his arms wrap around me.
When he leans back, a small smile tugs at the sides of his mouth when he says, “This doesn’t change the fact that your Ex is a real asshole.”
I laugh, loving the humor he can find in the moment. “You’re right, but he always was and probably always will be. You’re not though, so I don’t want you getting upset over jerks like him. Anyway, not every guy wants to sleep with me. Case in point, the manager of the third property we looked at today. He didn’t even notice me.”
Amused, he laughs. “Because he was gay and you know it.”
“That would explain why he lingered on your every word. But what you’re really saying is that I can be friends with certain guys because they don’t want to sleep with me, but not all guys because they do want to sleep with me. This is kind of ridiculous, you know.”
“I never said they wanted to sleep.” He pulls me closer and holds me. “Come here.” He kisses me again—hard this time with no reluctance and all the passion we had in Hawaii is back, making me whole.
Our lips part and I watch him as his eyes slowly open, and he says, “I don’t want to fight with you, but this…” He rubs his hands over my hips. “…Is all mine. This…” Continuing, his fingers slide across my mouth. “…Is mine. And this…” He strokes between my legs, firing every nerve into a frenzy of sexual hypertension. “…Will never be touched by anyone other than me again. I told you, I’m not good at losing or sharing. You remember that when I’m back in New York.”
Another girl opens the bathroom door and stops, startled when she sees us.
I release a heavy breath, my heart beating fast and my body turned on by his claim to me.
Evan steps forward, taking me by the hand. “We’re leaving,” he says to her with no apology for hogging the woman’s restroom for so long.
When we walk out, Sarah and Josh are at the table, waiting for us. I thought Evan would want to go home, but he doesn’t. He walks straight over and says, “You guys up for a game of pool. Teams. Me and Mallory against you two?”
Sarah hops off the stool with a big smile. “Yeah, we’re game.” She looks at me and asks, “You okay? Your face is all pink.” Her hand goes to my cheek. “And you’re hot. You feeling alright?”
I look at Evan and he has that damn, confident, sexy smirk on his face, and I reply, “Better than ever.” I try to get my thoughts off of how good it feels when his hands are on me and back to the reality that I’m in the middle of a bar.
Evan gets the rack from the slot under the table and hands it to me. “Rack’em up, sexygirl.”
With a smile on my face, feeling the liberation from weighing issues, I take the rack from him. “Anything for you,” I reply with all the sexual intent I can muster.
He crosses his arms over his chest and asks, “Anything? I’ll keep that in mind later.”
I roll my eyes. “Okay, anything within reason.”
“Damn,” he says, snapping his fingers.
I collect the stray balls while walking to the other side of the table. After putting the balls in the rack, I lean forward to push it onto the mark and center it. He comes around and smacks my ass. “I’m liking this view.”
Shaking my ass, I give him a little show. Then he leans against me from behind, bending with my body as his hands take the rack and pull it closer to us. “The balls have an order. Let me show you.” He lifts the rack and sets it next to the triangle of balls then takes the one ball and places it at the top of the rack. “Now a stripe and a solid, a stripe and solid with the eight ball between them.” He presses his middle harder against my ass with each ball he racks.
I grab a stripe and he tells me to place it in the bottom left corner and then a solid in the other corner. His hands rest on my waist as I rack the rest ‘how I want.’ Turning around, I slip a finger into a belt loop of his jeans and tug him even closer. When I kiss him, Sarah says, “You know you’re in public, right?”
I laugh just as I’m about to kiss him again. Evan, looking over my shoulder at her, says, “A little PDA never hurt anyone.”
Josh grabs Sarah, surprising her with a full on, knee-weakening kiss. When they finish, she’s a bit dazed and has a goofy grin on her face. “Nope, never hurt anyone,” she replies dreamily.
In the middle of the first game, I spy Will leaving the men’s restroom while holding bloody paper towels to his nose. He looks pissed, so fortunately he never sees us. Seeing the damage on him, I immediately glance over at Evan and look for any marks. There are none on him. Our eyes meet while he chalks his stick, and then he smiles at me, not seeing Will walk out of the bar.
Josh gets his attention by nudging him. “Your go, man.”
He looks down and sets up the shot before sinking two balls. We play two games, tying them when we decide to call it a night. It was hard for Evan to lose that second time because he sunk the eight ball and couldn’t blame me for the loss. Not that he would, but it was a hit to his manly pool-playing ego. Tired from the day and all the emotional turmoil from earlier in the evening, we all four leave, parting ways with Sarah and Josh out on the sidewalk.
Once we’re back at the apartment, he sits down on the couch and kicks his feet up on the coffee table. “You’re all goodness and trust. You know that? Two of the qualities I love most about you. Hell, I wouldn’t be here right now if you weren’t so kindhearted.”
I walk to the couch and sit down next to him, needing to be close. Leaning my head on his shoulder, I enjoy his warmth. “Being with you like this is one of my favorite ways to be.” I curl my legs under me, and add, “You’re also made of goodness, Evan, inside and out.”
Any other night and the old us would have made love, buried our feelings in sensations, moans, and ecstasy. Tonight, we don’t. Instead, he kisses me on the top of the head and we cuddle in silence, appreciating the quiet of the world while listening to the other’s soft breath.
* * *
Birds are singing. Go away, happy birds. I’m tired and worn down, physically and somewhat emotionally. Life with Evan has always been emotional but his mother’s call yesterday is weighing heavy on my heart.
A shadow moves across my closed lids, causing my eyes to flutter open in the early hours of the morning. Evan is standing next to my desk in only his underwear. He’s scanning the pictures on my corkboard—my collage of Evan and the ones of us. He’s smiling, completely unaware that I’m watching him.
; Sitting up on my elbows, the shuffle of the sheets alerts him and he looks over his shoulder, then points back at one of the pictures of him. It’s one of my favorites though I’d find it hard to actually pick just one favorite of him.
“When did you take this?”
“I don’t remember,” I answer, trying to clear my scratchy morning voice away.
“Liar,” he teases.
I smile, remembering exactly when I took the picture. I remember everything about Hawaii and the world we created there.
“I didn’t know you took so many pictures. You’re all ninja like with the camera.”
I sit up all the way, not caring that the sheet slides down my chest, exposing my breasts in the dim light sneaking in from the outside.
He slowly exhales, walking to the side of the bed and sitting next to me. “Lie down,” he instructs, stroking my hair behind my shoulder, his fingers caressing my skin.
When I lay down, he slides under the covers with me, cuddling against, his bare skin to mine. I feel him harden against my thigh I’ve so casually draped on top of him. He doesn’t move. Like me, I can tell that this is enough for him.
We lay there until the clock clicks and the dreaded hour arrives. Ten a.m. His flight is at noon, so he needs to leave.
Showering together, actually showering—we wash our hair and clean our bodies. No time for antics or sex this morning. I’m kind of disappointed, but something today feels different. I want to say we feel more solid, but I won’t allow myself to think those words as he’s leaving because then it would make me think I didn’t believe we were solid before.
By ten twenty-five, we’re dressed and he’s standing at my door, suitcase in hand. He pre-arranged a car to take him to the airport, not wanting to relive the torture of another goodbye as much as I don’t. So we pretend this isn’t happening and say our goodbye casually as if we’ll see each other tomorrow… or the next day. After a kiss that quickly escalates into a few body grinds, he leaves, shutting the door behind him and leaving me standing there in the middle of my living room alone.
I stand there like a fool for at least five minutes trying to get my emotions in check. It doesn’t work. I’m unsure what I’m supposed to do with myself. This apartment was starting to feel like home before Evan showed up. Now it feels empty without him, barren like my chest.
The door bursts open, startling me, and Evan runs in, grabbing me so hard that I’m squeezed against him with my feet off the ground. He kisses me with a passion that hasn’t been necessary until this moment.
Setting me down abruptly, he grabs the sides of my face, looking deep into my eyes, and says, “I love you, Mallory. I need you to know that I will always love you. No matter what.”
63
Evan
November 1st.
November 1st.
November 1st.
37 days.
It’s been 37 excruciating days since I last held her. It’s been 37 days since I last kissed her. 38 days since I was a part of her and we were one. Fuck!
Jogging through Central Park isn’t doing it for me anymore, but the pub across the street from the Ashford Holdings building is, so I veer off path and go straight there.
I’m working long days for my dad and still trying to stay in shape by jogging. But every part of me needs to ‘get wet’—fucking soaked to the core. Water has been my salvation for as long as I can remember. I feel lost without it. Mallory helped that need to be buried under water go away, but now I have neither—no ocean or Mallory to submerge myself in.
“You’re too young to become a drunk. Go home.” The bartender says this to me every time I come in here, which seems to be more frequent lately. He’s right, but I need to bury reality into a haze of numbness. I miss her… we don’t talk like we used to. She tries. I’ll give her credit there, but I’m usually stuck in a meeting, and can’t take it. It pisses me off.
I chase the whiskey with a beer and head home. Walking into my apartment, I toss the keys on the console and plop down on the couch, fully suited, and loosen my tie. Sitting in the dark and silence, I will myself not to go to my room. The computer’s in there and if I walk through that door I’ll want to logon and then I’ll be disappointed because she’s not home. She has midterms and she’s studying crazy weird hours and the one thing I swore I wouldn’t do is mess with her studies. That needs to be her priority right now, not me, even though I selfishly I want to come first.
Fuck, I need to get wet. I need to surf and feel that harmony with the ocean. I need to clear my head and getting lost in a wave never sounded so damn good.
The door opens and in walks Kate, along with Lacey, one of her high school friends. I can’t say I’m happy to see Lacey. We have a past. We fucked once, which was a mistake, so I’m not in the mood to deal with her tonight.
With a smile, she comes. “Hi, Evan.”
“I’d stay away from him. He’s been a moody bastard lately,” Kate warns, walking down the hall to her room.
“I’m right here, by the way,” I yell, annoyed she’s talking about me like I’m not even in the room.
“How’s it going?” Lacey asks, sitting down on the couch.
“Fine,” I grumble completely disinterested in having a conversation with her.
Her weight shifts on the couch and I look to find that she sat down while trying on a coy smile, which doesn’t suit her. “Glad to see you’re back in New York,” she says.
I ignore her because Kate is right. I am a moody fucking bastard these days.
And she’s persistent, but she always has been. “Do you want to come out with us tonight? We’re going to see some of the old gang.”
“I have a girlfriend,” I state flatly, hoping to end this one-sided conversation. I know her too well. She doesn’t make small talk unless she wants something and everything about her tells me that she’s not looking to start an in-depth discussion.
“I thought you didn’t do girlfriends?” She asks skeptically.
She’s right, I used to not do them, but that was before I met someone worth having as a girlfriend. For her, my sarcastic side rears its ugly head, and I remark, “I’m moody because I’m not doing my girlfriend right now.”
“I see. So this bad mood is about you not getting laid. You’re horny?” she says, her hand suddenly on my thigh. “I can help you out in that department. I’ve learned a few new tricks since we were last together.”
Scoffing, I say, “A few new tricks? It was so bad three years ago that if memory serves me right, there was only room for improvement. So thank God you learned some ‘new tricks’ because the old ones fucking sucked and not in a good way.”
She stands, stomping down the hall to Kate’s bedroom, but bothers to stop and yell, “You’re an asshole, Evan Ashford. Go to hell!”
I’m still laughing when Kate walks out of her room, down the hall, and straight up to me flicking me really hard on the forehead. “Don’t fuck with my friends, Evan, or should I call you Sourpuss?” She turns and goes back to her room where Lacey is probably waiting to bitch about me.
“You call me that again and you’re gonna finally meet FootUpYourAss, Katherine.” I threaten her even though I know that if she really wants to, Kate can put up a good fight. I lie back on the couch and laugh at how entertaining this has been.
With a much better disposition in place, I go to my room and turn on my laptop. I login to video chat and see Mallory is online, so I ping her.
She comes to life before my eyes. I recently installed a twenty-nine inch monitor, so she would be bigger for my personal enjoyment.
“Evan.”
“Mallory.”
She smiles, lighting up my whole heart, and I tell her, “You have an amazing smile.”
Tilting her head, she smiles again, a pink creeping up her neck and onto her cheeks. “Stop, you’re making me blush.”
“I’ll never stop and I hope you always blush for me.”
She’s embarrassed and changes the
topic, her usual reaction when she feels she’s getting too much attention. “How was your day?”
“I don’t want to talk about that. Nothing matters but this call right now.”
“Then what do you want to talk about?” she asks.
“I just want to look at you and hear your voice.”
“You cut your hair. It’s a lot shorter.”
I ruffle my hand on the side of my head. “Yeah, I cut it yesterday. I was told it wasn’t professional.”
“I like it. You look… older, definitely more professional.” Eyeing me, she adds, “You look like you’ve lost weight.”
“I took up running. I couldn’t stand sitting at that desk and not moving all day.”
Shaking her head, she looks contemplative. “You didn’t need to lose any.”
“It’s the running. How about you?” When I visited, she’d lost a few pounds and her face is looking even thinner now.
“I’m eating my veggies, if that’s what you’re asking,” she says sarcastically.
“Mallory?”
“Yeah?”
“I just care about you.”
Her expression softens and her sweet smile reappears. “I care about you, too, but what’s with all the seriousness tonight?”
“We promised to talk every day,” I point out, then bite the inside of my cheek.
“I had mid-terms. I told you I’d be busy in the evenings. I’ve called you every day though.” She’s not defensive but sounds remorseful.
“We didn’t talk last Wednesday.”
“You remember that?”
“Yeah, I remember and there have been other days we didn’t talk.” When she looks away, I can tell I’m making her defensive, which is not what I intended to do. “Know that I notice because I miss you.”
“I mis—”
“Hey Evan, knock knock.” Kate barges in. “We’re leaving to go to the salon. The car will be downstairs at 7. I’m riding with Lacey. I’ll see you there. Oh, is that Mallory?” Kate practically pushes me out of the way. “Hey there, how’s it going?”
