Better Late Than Never

by Ghiselle St. James

  Everyone is deathly quiet. You can hear a pin drop. Rex is pissed, to say the least, and Kyle is…murderous.

  Kyle stalks toward me and holds his hand out, demanding, “Let’s go.”

  “Savannah, he’s crazy. Let’s go upstairs, baby,” Rex pleads, and the endearment sounds alien to me. He has never used endearments with me. He says he doesn’t like them, so what has changed now?

  “You don’t get to look at her anymore much less to call her name, you piece of fuck,” Kyle threatens and my heart leaps.

  This is a Kyle I have never seen before. I may or may not like it.

  “Savannah,” Rex begs, sympathy shining in his eyes.

  I want to go to him. Tonight is our night, but something doesn’t add up.

  Kyle angrily approaches Rex, but I halt him with a hand to his chest. My eyes plead with my best friend, with my boyfriend, for an explanation. I scan the faces in the room, willing someone, anyone to tell me what the fuck is going on that would cause two of the most important men in my life – even if one is currently estranged – to fight.

  “Let’s go, Savi.” Kyle’s voice is softer, but I sense he isn’t asking me a question or demanding anything. He is telling me I am coming with him and he knows I will.

  Because something happened, and nobody’s telling me shit.

  I look at Rex then at Kyle. I give a silently pleading Rex another once-over and notice he is holding his middle. Kyle must have done a number on him…which is out of character for my best friend. He doesn’t get in fights; he and Grayson would have duked it out a long time ago if that were the case.

  “What did you do?” I ask Rex, disappointingly, before taking Kyle’s hand and leaving the party; choosing, without saying so, to end our fledgling relationship.

  Kyle and I may not be friends anymore, but I still trust him implicitly.

  I am perplexed as I sit next to Kyle who is pressing gas as he winds around the roadway, pushing his Subaru to its limits. We aren’t headed home – that’s for sure – as this is the way to Cape Aventura. I want to say something, to ask him what all that was about, but the tension in the car is as huge as the Biltmore Estate.

  I’m almost certain he is about to murder me and hide my body in a sand dune. Kyle is that angry. His hands are choking the steering wheel and he is driving way over the speed limit. I feel him slipping away into darkness and, in an act of desperation (and a bit of self-preservation, because, well, I’m too young to die), I curl my arm around his left bicep and he immediately relaxes. His speed cuts and he starts breathing more easily.

  I think I’ll die another day…and I’m not quoting Madge this time.

  The music is soft in the background, but what I hear makes my heart gallop faster. Kyle knows I love this particular boy band, even if I will not openly admit it to anyone except him. He is the only one I play them around so he always has their albums in his car for whenever he would take me to school. I have not driven with him in months, yet he has been playing it. I don’t know what to make of that.

  The lead singer in this particular song is telling his love interest how he needs her and knows it deep within his heart. I try to purge the words from my system, hating their taste of truth. Because, even after all this time, I still need my best friend.

  And not in the way best friends should be needing each other.

  Before I know it, we are pulling up to Cape Aventura. We haven’t been here since he and Becky got together. The song loops around again and it is then I realize that he’s had it on repeat. My heart expands painfully, full of so many things to say and so many questions to ask.

  What does this mean? being at the forefront.

  He switches the car off and reaches in the back for something before exiting the car. He sits on the hood of the car and I hear a wrapper being opened. With a wide smile on my face, I hop out of the car, remembering that sound like we had just shared its contents yesterday.

  Kyle extends a Pop-Tart and a can of purple soda to me and I eagerly take them, our tradition grounding us and bringing us closer. We sit munching and sipping in silence until the suspense becomes too much for me to not question.

  “What was that about?” I venture.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” he broods, a shadow of anger crossing his face.

  I pause for a moment before hazarding the question, “Does it have anything to do with me?”

  “What in my life has nothing to do with you, Savi? Every decision I make nowadays seems to have you in it – whether this or that will hurt you or not.”

  It stings but it’s his truth, his painful truth. But it doesn’t mean I need to accept it.

  I shove him, seething. “When are you going to fight for me for real, Kyle?” I demand, done with all this back and forth.

  “Stop, Savi,” he growls.

  “Fuck you, Kyle.” I shove him again, so fucking angry at him, angry at Rex, angry at Becky, angry at the Universe…and at myself for loving this boy.

  “Stop,” he demands, swatting my hands away when I try to push him again.

  “What are you afraid of, huh?” I challenge, taking my shoe off and throwing it at him. He dodges it easily, bristling.

  “You’re a fucking coward, Kyle Moxam!” I charge, pointing an accusatory finger at him. Tears prick my eyes and, try as I might, I cannot stop them from falling.

  This boy is my rack and ruin.

  I shove at him again, and this time he lets me, stumbling back in the sand. I pound his chest as I cry, “Love me or let me go, Kyle!”

  I say the words over and over, a pitiful, tearful plea. He doesn’t deserve my tears, yet I give them to him anyway. I am raw and reeling, tumbling over the edge of desperation. How can he not see how much I love him? How can he not see that we fit like perfect pieces to a puzzle that people take lifetimes to put together? Well, I can’t force him.

  I won’t.

  “Let me go, Kyle,” I beg brokenly. I have grown weary and winded; part from physically abusing him and part from his constant silent rejection. “Let me go.”

  My best friend grasps my hands in an iron grip then, staring at me as if I just told him the world is ending. “I can’t,” he whispers desperately.

  And I sob because no matter how much I want him to leave me alone, I cannot let him go either.

  He pulls me closer, enveloping me in his arms and I cry. He is the reason for my tears, but I have never felt safer than I am now. I hear him quietly sniffle a few times, his own tears wetting my hair, but I don’t call him on it. He holds on to me as if I’m his lifeline and, in a way, I am.

  “You anchor me,” he had said to me once after an argument with his dad.

  When my tears subside, I stay in his embrace, listening to the rhythm of his heart. It is one that matches my own. We don’t say anything for a while, but we don’t need to. It’s the Savi and Kyle show again, but in the way when we are in our own world. One created for us and us alone where we can be together.

  I shiver as the wind accelerates around us and Kyle notices. He goes into his trunk for a blanket and throws it around me when he takes it out of the bag. Offering him some warmth, I share the blanket – that smells so much like him – with my former best friend and we both cozy up under it.

  The air is ripe with unsaid things and unshared feelings. I want to tell him that I found his gift, but I am paralyzed by fear and something else. Something I don’t want to acknowledge.

  Then Kyle stares down at me. I feel his eyes on me and they lure me to him. He swipes a finger beneath my eye, capturing an errant tear. He doesn’t pull his hand away, just trails a long finger down my cheek to my chin. His eyes zero in on my lips and it makes my body warm under his heated gaze. My heart is hammering in my chest. He is close, too close. And this is dangerous. Too dangerous.

  Abort! Abort! Abort…?

  “Why do you always look at me like that?” I whisper, my heart an erratic beat in my chest.

  His brows furrow as if he’s
confused at my observation. “How?”

  I drag my teeth along my bottom lip then nervously answer, “Like I hung the moon…”

  “Well, didn’t you?” His question is so innocent, as if he holds that fact to be true. I’ve never swooned so hard in my life.

  Before we can even analyze it, our heads inch closer – that old and ever-present magnetic pull returning – and we kiss. It’s deep and passionate, but also a slow burn and long overdue. I sigh into his mouth and he groans, gripping me tighter. Kyle lifts me into his arms and my legs automatically wrap around him. Tingles shoot all over my body and the tension unfurls as a sort of peace descends on our situation.

  Why does kissing him always feel like stars aligning? Every time our lips touch, we become one.

  Kyle lays us in the sand, the blanket beneath us, and makes light work of both of our clothes. He stops and his eyes roam over me reverently, each sweep seeming to commit something different to his memory. I don’t feel the need to cover up or hide. I feel beautiful and desired as his gaze eats me up. He places a soft kiss over my heart and I bite lip, my nose stinging with emotion. He turns my feelings topsy-turvy even as we lay ourselves bare before each other.

  He is magnificent – leanly built, with muscles that aren’t overkill…and a hard, jutting cock. I touch him – because it’s right there – and he groans low and huskily in the back of his throat. He reaches for his jeans and fishes out a condom from his wallet. He holds it up, asking me the question without really asking.

  Are you sure?

  Am I?

  I look up at the stars above us. They are twinkling especially bright tonight. A shooting star fires through the night sky and I smile at the universe. This is it. The universe is going to have its way whether I like it or not.

  I turn my half-lidded gaze back to the boy who owns my heart and I nod. His jaw flexes with tension as he returns my nod. Laying my hand on his cheek, I try to relax him. He stares at me and releases the breath he has been holding and kisses the center of my palm. The delicate gesture has tears welling in my eyes.

  This is it.

  Kyle rolls the condom onto his hardness and lines it up between my legs. It’s strange, but I’m not nervous. It is almost cathartic. I think we have known in our hearts, all along, that it would eventually lead here. The push and pull, the fight, the denial of our feelings – feelings we probably have felt from the onset – has led to this moment. And as the universe smiles down at us in the form of beautiful shining stars, we know, without a doubt, that this is our moment.

  Kyle kisses me, trailing hot lips down my neck and to my breast before taking a nipple between his teeth and sucking. I gasp at the sensation, my legs widening even further. I pull him closer as he showers one then the other nipple with wet nips and sucks. Fireworks begin to build, and I feel myself getting wetter by the second. This feels good.

  “You’re beautiful, Savannah,” he whispers against my heated skin in awed worship and my heart soars.

  He kisses me again and I get lost in their caress before I feel him pressing forward gently. I feel the resistance and he does, too. He pulls back and tries again, slower this time. My eyes fall closed as I anticipate his entry.

  “Hey,” he whispers.

  Opening my eyes one at a time, I look at him. He is beautiful. The stars above him make the moment feel almost unreal. But this is it, I know.

  “I need your eyes, Savi,” he tells me. “Give me those beautiful eyes. Look at me when I take what has always been mine.”

  His words are almost my undoing. He bursts through my seal and tears of joy and pain and ecstasy fill my eyes and overflow like a jar too full. He moves deftly inside me, taking his time and drawing out my pleasure. The discomfort slowly ebbs away as he rubs my clit while he strokes inside me.

  He takes a nipple into his mouth and I arch into him, loving the way arousal zings through my body and freefalls to an ache between my legs. I am so impossibly wet, that I think I might have wet myself, but Kyle’s words do more than assuage my insecurity, it makes me soar…

  “You’re so fucking wet, Savi,” he praises. “You feel so good. Is this all for me? Is this wet fucking pussy all for me?” It’s as if he can hardly believe this is happening.

  I clench around him at his words, making him feel how real this all is, and he groans. It’s real, Kyle. This is happening. His movements slow as he takes his time and grinds into me deeper. I sink my teeth into his shoulders to staunch my moans. His filthy words do something to me. Something akin to driving me crazy.

  “No, baby, I need to hear you,” he cajoles softly. “I need to hear how I make you feel; how you sound when you cum for me.”

  This boy!

  For long minutes, he has me whimpering, moaning, chanting his name and God’s, and begging him for nothing in particular. It’s harmony of worship sounds as we become one flesh. It is a maddening, euphoric experience that has me barreling headfirst into a cyclone of overwhelming pleasure. His movements get rougher, as does his fingers when they drift back to the tiny nub of nerves between my legs. An alien feeling awakens inside me, the strength of it making me feel as though I am about to pass out.

  The difference between my finger-induced orgasms and this moment, is him. My best friend. There is nothing to go on, no one to compare him to, but I just know that he has ruined me forever.

  The climax curls deep inside my body, cresting, triggering every hair on my skin to stand to attention as I crash into an earth-shattering orgasm. The waves billow inside me like that of the ocean – again and again – and I feel electrified. My body buzzes beneath Kyle’s and I feel like a dozen fireworks have gone off inside me. I feel like matter: dissolved yet together.

  I feel reborn.

  “Oh, Kyle!” I scream into the night, hoping to awaken every creature here on this Cape, the way Kyle has awakened my body and its pleasures unknown. The world needs to know how good I feel in this moment.

  I hold on to Kyle’s slick body as he pounds into me for a few more seconds before finding his own release, my name on his lips like a song. Tears leak down the sides of my face as euphoria takes me over. This is what catharsis is. A purging of the soul; a divine emotional release.

  Is this how everyone feels after their first time?

  “No. No it’s not,” Kyle echoes, staring at me as if he has heard my innermost thoughts.

  We stare at each other for a moment, drinking each other in, absorbing each other, crawling into each other’s skin without even realizing it. Kyle’s arms begin to shake, and he lies next to me, but does not break our connection. He takes my hand and kisses each knuckle, before laying it on his chest.

  We lay in silence for what feels like a lifetime, taking turns to trace the lines of each other’s palm.

  “I don’t know what’s going on between you and Becky, but just know I’m worried about both of you.” I had to let him know.

  He sighs and I feel his war within. “If I could tell you–”

  “I know you would in a heartbeat,” I finish for him.

  “Savi…”

  “Sort out what you need to with Becky, Kyle. I’ll be here.”

  “But will you wait for me?” he asks, more like pleads.

  Sadly… “I don’t think I can.”

  Kyle nods and gives me a sad smile. Tears pool in my eyes for the umpteenth time, knowing this is our official goodbye and having no regrets.

  Looking up to the sky, I feel sadness and peace all coiled into one. This is it.

  My phone dings with a message and I check it seeing a message from Rex and a dozen missed calls from my parents and from Grayson. I choose to ignore it all but notice the time. A wide smile spreads across my face and I stare across at my best friend, and love of my life.

  “Happy birthday, Kyle.”

  He mirrors my smile then reaches across to kiss my lips oh so softly. “Best birthday gift ever,” he whispers meaningfully.

  We stay up watching the dawn, making love o
ne last time. We head home as the sun rises, hand in hand…

  Even though I know that my parents are going to ground me until I have grandkids.

  Chapter Ten – Although We’ve Come to the End of the Road

  Savi – Present

  AS GRAYSON DRIVES me home, I close my eyes when I roll the windows down and allow the night air to sober me up and clear my head. Today had been an emotional rollercoaster and my night did not fare much better. Indecision sits in the pit of my stomach and I shift uncomfortably against the feeling.

  My best friend, the man I have been in love with since we were teenagers, has asked me to plan his wedding to another woman.

  It is still unreal to me. I want to wake up from this nightmare. I pinch myself for good measure to see if it works. I open my eyes and look across at Grayson, reality smacking me in the face with one of his cocky smirks. I wish I had enough coordination to smack him in the face.

  “Thought you gave up on whiskey,” Grayson observes.

  “Bite me,” I mutter acerbically.

  “Oohh, testy,” he taunts, pulling to a stop at the red light. “So…?” The question hangs between us like a dark cloud pregnant with thunderous showers. I should have known he would want to talk about this when I was good and drunk, instead of when I was sober like a normal person would.

  “So?”

  “The invitation?” he presses. “Will you do it?”

  Sighing, I mull it over in my head, no definite answer to this. “I don’t know,” is my softly spoken reply. “All I know is that it hurts and it shouldn’t.”

  “Why shouldn’t it?” Grayson asks with his brow furrowed. “When wifey and butt-munch dated, it fucking killed me. Sure, she didn’t know how I felt at the time, but I was entitled to how I felt.”

  He lays a reassuring hand on mine and I look up at him, tears in my eyes. “And you are, too.”

  Tears quietly stream down my face as I absorb his words. It hurts, it hurts a lot, but does Kyle need to suffer because of it?