“Bobby? What is it? What’s wrong?” She sounds worried, her cheeks rosing over like she’s done something wrong.
“It’s not you.” I push harder on my eyes. “I guess I’m not ready for this.” I’m just adding to the list of things I need to beg for forgiveness. This is going great. Dream girl. Dream moment. Ruined. “Fuck, Lex. I’m–” my chest is so tight while I try to form words out of the vortex inside of me.
“Don’t you dare apologize.”
“No?”
“No.”
I feel so broken. Useless. I can’t even fuck her. Goddammit, why did I try?
“Do you want me to apologize?” Her question kills me.
“No, of course not.”
“Then, it’s alright.”
I open my eyes to see hers, tenderly enveloping me with her care and concern. It’s the sweetest thing. She straddles my body, wrapping her arms around my neck with the kindest smile I’ve ever seen. “We can go slow. I’d like to go slow. We need that, apparently. Neither of us know how to do this.”
“It’s not that I don’t think you’re beautiful.” I grip her hips.
“I know.”
I swallow the knot in my throat. “Because I do. I think you’re the most beautiful woman in this world.”
She smiles like her face is saying awe. “I was gettin’ a little too nervous, myself.” She slides my hands around the small of her back. Rests her body into mine. Cuddling like she belongs here. She does belong here.
“Oh, I don’t want you to feel nervous.” I rest my chin on her head. “I’ve always loved so much about you. And I’ve always thought you’re gorgeous. It’s not a line, either,” I whisper into her ear.
“I don’t think you’re the type to spout off lines.” She kisses my nose.
“I love bein’ with you.” My voice catches, overcome with this moment.
“I love bein’ with you, too.” Her body relaxes into mine, blissful caressing for as long as we want. “Thanks for givin’ us a chance.”
“I’m really sor–”
“Bobby.” She raises her brows.
“Right.” I sigh, trying to think of something better to say. “How you been? Not just tonight. I mean, ever since you got back.”
“Honestly?”
“Yeah, honestly. You like honesty.” I wink.
She smiles, but then lets out a long sigh. “It’s been a lot to be here.” There’s a heaviness in her words that makes it all worse that I haven’t been there for her.
“I’ve been an asshole.”
“Yeah, you have.” She looks away, but not for long, popping her lips when she returns to my eyes. “I don’t blame you, though.”
“You don’t?”
“I figure you did enough of that on your own.”
Shit, she’s so right about everything.
“I walked home that night. Punishin’ myself for not takin’ care of you. For leavin’ even though you didn’t wanna be here alone. I wanted to support you and I fucked up.”
“Shh.” She puts her finger over her lips. “I’m not mad. Do you know how hard this is? All of it? Every bit of this loss and heartache is the worst thing we’ve been through.”
She doesn’t know the half of it.
The deep parts of his death creep up into the corners of my troubled mind. I think about telling her. I want to. She literally just told me how important honesty is to her. But no words come out of my lips. I haven’t been able to say them out loud. Ever.
I promised Cody I wouldn’t tell a soul what he told me the night he died.
“We need each other. I really do believe that, Bobby.”
How is she so sweet? I don’t deserve this kindness. And here she is.
“I need you, Lex. But I don’t deserve you. Not yet.” I take her knuckles and kiss each one. There’s a knot in my throat I wasn’t expecting.
“But I want to, real soon, alright. Because you deserve so much more than I am right now.” I take her hands in mine, kissing her knuckles because I can’t stop this endearing gesture. Her hand against my lips makes my body relax in a way I can’t explain.
“And what are you now?” Her eyebrows raise.
“A fuckin’ mess.”
“A gorgeous mess.” She brings her lips to mine. “We’ve been over this, anyway. I don’t mind messes. I paint on ruined canvas all the time and turn it into something beautiful.”
“You really do.”
“Maybe we can help each other paint over the past? It’ll still be there, but we can add a new layer and make it into something.”
“I’d love that.”
“Okay, then step one–you’re not a mess.” She tilts my chin up because I’m staring at the ground. “And you’re enough for me.”
I lean my cheek against hers, blinking back the tears that want to come out of my eyes. I don’t deserve even a tiny bit of her grace.
I have to get better… for her. For us.
For you, Cody.
I’ll get better for you.
20
LEXIE
DECEMBER
Just like I promised, we’re going slow. It’s good. I know we both need this. It’s been five weeks since we reconnected at The Splat. He was embarrassed we stopped short that first night, but in all honesty, I was a panic attack waiting to happen. As much as I craved him, really diving in would’ve been a mistake. Neither of us were ready for everything. Maybe soon, but not then.
Bobby and I are cuddling on the couch, just being together at the end of a long week of classes.
I let out a deep breath, still shaking off the stress of today, and more–the inner turmoil that overwhelms my overthinking head. Being here makes me want to relax, but sometimes these thoughts run rampant and I can’t turn them off.
“Somethin’ on your mind?” He curls my hair around his finger.
I sigh. He’s so in tune with me that he picks up on all my vibes.
“Just thinkin’ about that night at the beach house our first week. Ya know, after The Splat.”
“Jeez. I usually have so much more game than that.” His chest tenses up under my head.
“No, no, not that.” I sit up a little bit so I can look at him. “This is gonna sound stupid but I’m a little scared of actually havin’ sex again.” I close my eyes for a long time, worried that I shouldn’t have said anything.
Bobby takes my hands in his. “Scared?” His tone is kind and somehow I don’t feel as insecure anymore.
“Like I said, it’s stupid.” I huff hair out of my face.
“It’s not stupid.” He tilts his chin down, raising his gorgeous, deep-brown brows, like he does every time he wants me to know he’s being serious. “You’re scared? Do you know what you’re scared of?”
Jesus, he’s being so sweet with me right now. This has weighed heavy on my heart ever since that night. I haven’t known how to talk about it. Haven’t even wanted to think about it. I know I like Bobby and I know I love when he touches me, but I don’t know if I’ll ever stop worrying about it. In some ways I’ve been relieved we haven’t gone past third base since that night. I’ve needed some time to work through this emotionally.
Looking into his eyes, I know I can tell him. I know I can trust him.
“I’m scared because I know you have a lot more experience. Not even that, you have practice. Lots of practice that I don't have.”
“Sex is about sharing. It’s not about practice.”
“What do you mean?” I grab my hair and twist it into a knot.
“It’s not about who has practice or not. Not to me.” Bobby holds up his wrist for me to take my hair tie that he always carries around. I smile because it’s so sweet he’s started wearing these so I don’t have to go looking for them to put my hair up.
I twist my hair into a bun on top of my head, whisps slipping out.
“No, it’s about us gettin’ to know one another in a special way. Lex, I’ve had lots of hookups. You know that,” he shrugs. “E
verybody probably knows that.” He runs his thumb across my forehead, tucking a few of the flyaway hairs behind my ear. “But with you, baby, I want more than that. I’m not at all worried about anythin’ we’ve already had with other people, because this is about us and only us.”
I try to smile, but I feel so much weight in my chest–like a rock is taking the place of my lungs and I can’t get any air. “It’s just that me and Cody...we really didn't do much. In some ways I feel like I’m still a virgin. I’m not gonna have any clue what the fuck I’m doin’ and that scares the hell outta me because I don’t wanna blow it with you.”
“That won’t blow it with me, I promise.” He kisses my cheek, a tender look in his eyes as he pulls back. “Besides, virginity is a social construct.”
“What?”
“It’s a social construct that’s bullshit. My first time was a special experience, sure. But it didn't change me like society likes to pretend it does. I’m not morphed into something different than I was before I had sex. You’re still you. I’m still me. We’re not chewed up bubblegum, or whatever other stupid comparisons people make, just because of goin’ all the way with someone. It’s an experience. Simple as that.” He leans in close, holding my eyes.
“An experience.” I try to let his words soak in, hoping that maybe they can offer a bit of redemption for me and the moments that went so horribly wrong with Cody. It’s not just the inexperience that worries me. I suddenly feel the opposite of sexy. That I’m boring, too plain, not sexy enough. Maybe if I would’ve been sexier or more fun Cody would’ve….
“Lexie, when we make love it’s about us sharing.” Bobby pulls me from my thoughts before they get too dark. He’s saving me. Healing me. My throat gets tight because somehow I know he’s right. It doesn’t matter what happened before. It doesn’t matter that I have some trauma I’m still working through. It doesn’t matter that I’m new to this. Or that I have far less of a clue how to be good in bed than he does.
“Sex is about giving and receiving. It has nothin’ to do with how much sex I’ve had or how much you’ve had. I’m not better than you because I’ve been laid more times or with more people. This is about us. Only us. It’s about me taking care of you. Learnin’ what you like. You learnin’ what I like.” His mouth parts and his voice lowers. “Us sharing an intimate physical connection, like we are here and now.” He brings his head to mine, his arms wrapping me in a hug. Whispering in my ear, he says, “It may not be my first time, but it’s my first time with you. It will be wonderful, no matter what it looks like. I’ll make sure it’s just what you need, whatever that is.”
I melt into his arms, finding that comfort he always gives. For so long I’ve been hurting, feeling broken, not worthy of love. I didn’t know he could soothe this pain.
He holds me so close, so tenderly, that he may as well be inside of me–an intimate connection, just like he said. I feel that we are making love, just sitting here. Nothing to be scared of. Nothing to fret about. Nothing to make me worried. Maybe it would be with someone else, but not with Bobby. He’s always taking care of me. Sex won’t be any different.
It gives me hope that he’s right. When we do go further, it will be okay, it will be safe, I will be good enough.
“You can always talk to me, alright? We never even have to have sex. You mean the world to me and I want to do what makes you feel most comfortable.” He scratches my back, rubbing his cheek against mine. “Even if this is as far as we ever go. Absolutely no pressure whatsoever.” It’s so delicate, the way he touches me, the way he talks to me.
“I’m so comfortable with you. If there’s anyone I could do this with, it’s you.” I bring my lips to his. “Thank you for bein’ someone I can trust. Someone who cares about me.”
“I care about you so much.” He brings his lips to mine, his tongue dancing. Heat pours from me to him, kisses driving me wild with need. At this moment I think I’m getting close, almost in a place to share this with him.
The days get shorter and colder, South Carolina melting into deep fall. I see him when I can, but we’re both swamped with class, assignments and studying, his training and my clinical hours. His engineering program is crazy intense, and it’s a wonder I see him at all. Sometimes he doesn’t get back to the apartment until midnight and is often out the door first thing.
Most nights are ours. I sleep in his bed with him, tangled in his legs, under the black sheets. We’ve yet to go farther than making out and spooning all night. I’m hungry to feel him and experience him completely. Considering everything we’ve been through together, I’m almost ready. It’s weird, but I’ve never been more sure of wanting anything.
“One to one-and-a-half ratio.” He hands me the measuring cup.
“I know how to make your rice.” I raise my eyebrows. “How long have I been helpin’ you with meal prep? Don’t you think I can remember the rice ratio by now?”
“Fine, fine.” A smile stretches across his face. God, I love the way he smiles.
Ten containers are on the counter while I sauté the broccoli, brussel sprouts and carrots. He’s mixing up chicken and some sauce he puts on it.
The doorbell rings, and I go to get it since he’s busy with measuring stuff.
“Oh, hey Lexie.” It’s Claudia. “Is Mickey here?”
“No, probably at the library,” Bobby shouts from the kitchen.
“Oh, um, well if you see him, can you have him call me?” She isn’t acting how she normally is, like something weird is happening and she’s worried about it.
“Did you text him?” Bobby furrows his brow, standing beside me in the doorway.
Claudia huffs. “Nevermind.” She throws her hands in the air and storms off.
“Are she and Mickey a thing?” I go back to food prepping. “And what was that?”
“I have no clue.” Bobby lets out a surprised laugh.
“He dropped out of the athletic trainin’ program.” I feel bad, because I should really be a better friend to Mickey. “After he stopped showin’ up for all his hours and started missin’ all the exams.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Bobby shakes his head. “He’s never studyin’. Hell, he’s never home. He’s been in his own world lately.”
“I don’t get it.” I feel a tinge of anger inside of me. So many times he’s ignored me or left abruptly when I was trying to have a conversation. I’ve tried.
“Yeah, it’s not normal for him.” Bobby looks troubled.
“Totally not. I’ve tried to keep tabs on him. Tried to hang out with him, but he’s constantly pushin’ me away. And if that moment with Claudia is any indication, he’s pushin’ her away too. Did somethin’ happen?”
“Dunno.” Bobby shrugs, portioning the veggies into his containers with a measuring cup. He’s so precise…like not one extra vegetable can end up in that container.
There is an ominous feeling in my stomach I can’t seem to shake every time I think about Mickey. “We used to be so close. I’ve missed our conversations.” Everything has changed. Whatever happened must be since I got back, because he was acting normal when he cleaned my beach house. “Is he mad that we didn’t go to Garrison’s?”
“Doubt it. Claudia went with them.” There’s no secret Bobby doesn’t like her. I kinda wanna know their history.
I really hope Mickey’s okay…but I know he’s not. “He used to text and call me all the time. Kept me up to date on all that was happenin’ here while I was gone.” My voice is small, but Bobby catches it and stops what he’s doing to look at me. Only, it’s not his listening face, there’s something more there, hurt?
“You’ve kept in touch? With Mick?” His tone confirms my suspicion, that typical velvety warmth replaced with jealousy. Far from yelling, but definitely a raised voice.
We’ve never fought about anything. I don’t wanna start now.
For several heartbeats, he looks at me, brows knit together, nose wrinkling. My eyes travel to his tense shoulders, then back
to his face. His jaw jerks out. Oh fuck…what have I said?
“I kinda hoped you shut everyone out. But it was just me?”
A throbbing hits my chest, and I lean against the wall, gripping my shirt and holding tight while my heart surges. Why didn’t I text him back?
Was there something more inside of me, even then? That day when he held me after the funeral, I felt something.
My throat inflames, longing for an ice cube to cool it down. The cheap laminate floor is all I see, unable to look up.
I felt something, and I was afraid.
“I shoulda texted you back.” The croak in my vocal chords makes me sound like a frog.
“Why didn’t you?”
His words sting. And I can’t swallow, can’t take a breath.
“I wanted to be there for you. I wanted–” He shakes his head. “Forget it.”
“No, tell me.” I take a step toward him, the running heater hitting my face from the ceiling air vent. “Please?”
His chest fills with a long, deep breath. “I wanted you to know that I get it.”
My eyes are on his, that understanding we share as clear as day. “I know you do.”
“I get how hard it is. How hard it must’ve been for you.” His face is intense, and I’m shocked that our tension has transfigured into concern.
“And what about for you, Bobby? Who’s been there for you through all this?” My hand runs down his long sleeve shirt. He closes his eyes for a while, and it’s like I feel his pain, like I can sense every bit of it–as if I’m in his body. His forehead rests on my shoulder, his arms wrapping around the small of my back.
There was no support for him.
I don’t have to hear him say it to know, he’s been utterly alone in his grief.
All those text messages were his cries for help, and I ignored them, lost in my own pain.
But not anymore.
“You’re not alone,” I whisper. “You never have to be again.”
A Game Like Ours: Suncastle College Book One Page 14