Ask Me Again

by E. J. Noyes

  “Borrow somethin’ of hers. Come on, angel. Dancin’ is just what the doctor ordered.” He was almost pleading. “It’s been ages since we went out.”

  I knew well enough that if I said no, he’d turn up anyway, paw through the closet and practically dress me before carrying me out. He’d done that exact thing quite a few times during med school, somehow seeming to know when I needed a break from study.

  I made a noncommittal musing sound which my best friend took as acquiescence. “We’ll be there in twenty.”

  I sat up, swinging my legs off the couch. “Don’t bother, I’m not drinking so I’ll drive. Gimme forty-five minutes.”

  I wrote a note and left it on the fridge to let Jana know I was going out. She hadn’t messaged me for a rescue call, so clearly her date was going well, and I didn’t want to interrupt. I borrowed some of her makeup and pawed through her drawers and closet. We were close enough in size that there should be something for me, especially considering I wasn’t dressing to impress anyone, only for dancing.

  I found a green tank top and pulled on brown Cuban-heel cowboy boots that Jana bought in Texas last year, with my own jeans carefully smoothed over the top. Jana’s butter-soft leather jacket would ward off the cool night air. I might have to borrow that one more often.

  My M ’n’ Ms were waiting arm in arm at the end of their driveway when I arrived, right when I’d said I would. Mike slipped into the front seat. “You look delicious. I should have brought a stick to fend off women with.” He cupped my cheek fondly, kissing the other one.

  “New perfume, angel?” Mitch asked after he’d leaned over from the backseat to kiss my cheek too.

  “Jana’s. Surprised you can smell it around that aftershave you’ve poured on. You drop the bottle on your face again?”

  Mike laughed. “I tried to tell him.”

  “I thought you liked it,” Mitch spluttered.

  “I do, sweetie. Just not choking on it.”

  “Told you,” I said smugly.

  “I fuckin’ hate the way you two gang up on me.” Mitch poked me in the shoulder. “First round’s on you, Sabs.”

  Asshole, I wasn’t even drinking.

  I parked a block away, linked arms with the boys and we strolled to the club. Every now and then, Mitch would count a loud “One…two…three!” and they would lift me between them the way parents do with kids. By the time we made it to the club, the three of us were laughing. The boys paid my cover—fair’s fair for dragging me out—and I received a bright purple teddy bear stamp on the back of my hand.

  We made our way upstairs to the bar and dance floor, and I barely had time to drink a glass of water before Mike had dragged me out to dance, clutching my hands tightly as he spun me in a dramatic circle. I’d forgotten what a great dancer he was—the kind of fluid, natural dancer you can’t help but watch. He spent most of his time trying to make me laugh with outrageous moves. He and Mitch didn’t leave me for an instant, forming a dance-floor circle, and the three of us gently fended off women moving in on me since I was clearly not with anyone.

  After a few hours, Mike was pleasantly tipsy and Mitch was well on his way to drunk. I was still completely sober but buzzed from dancing, with sides that hurt from laughing. Just what the doctor ordered indeed, though of course I couldn’t admit to Mitch that he’d been right. Letting off a little steam and just forgetting myself for a few hours was enjoyable but something still felt wrong, a little piece of me missing, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what it was.

  Bec.

  She wasn’t big on clubs but had come out a few times to dance, and I knew she’d done it just to make me happy. Bec preferred intimate restaurant dinners, or drinks at a pub with friends. We weren’t so codependent that we couldn’t be out alone, and on occasion I had even gone out dancing while she’d stayed home. But I couldn’t ignore my unease at being out without her now. At being without her, period.

  When the beat changed to something a little too quick for me, I slipped my hands from Mike’s. “Just going to the bathroom, I’ll meet you guys at the bar. Can you grab me a sparkling water, please?”

  Waiting in line at the restrooms, I pulled out my phone to message Bec. A flu was running rampant through her staff, even the long-suffering residents. Most unusually, she was covering, and currently in the middle of a twenty-four-hour shift. We’d had to skip our dinner date but I’d talked to her this afternoon during a break and sometime during her work night, she’d get my message that I’d been dragged out dancing, was bored, sober and that I missed her.

  I pushed my phone into my back pocket, accidentally elbowing the person behind me. When I turned around, I found a pretty brunette wearing a sleeveless scoop-necked top that advertised both cleavage and toned yoga arms. She was cute, in a fresh-faced, just-turned-twenty-one-yesterday kind of way.

  I flashed an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”

  She gave me a bright smile in return. “No problem.” She leaned against the wall, folding her arms under her breasts. “Maybe they’ll be done sometime tonight and we’ll actually get to use the bathroom.”

  “Pardon?”

  The smile grew and she indicated the stalls with a casual flick of her fingers. “Listen.”

  I cocked my head, and heard something I hadn’t noticed while I’d been engrossed in texting Bec. The unmistakable sound of a bathroom stall hook-up. I snorted. “Good thing I’m not desperate to pee then.” I glanced at the other two stalls. Very quiet puking in one and in the other was what sounded like a tearful break-up conversation. Oh dear on both counts.

  “I am, and I’m not sure how much longer I’ll last.” She gestured to her chest. “I’m Amelia.”

  “Sabine.”

  “I saw you dancing with the big bear and the other guy who makes Justin Timberlake’s dance moves look like amateur hour.”

  “Ah, yeah. Good friends. You’re right, Mike dances like he’s trying to qualify for Dance Olympics or something.”

  “Mmm, I prefer your moves though.” She made no effort to moderate her full up-and-down inspection of me.

  I grinned. “Well, if you like vague flailing on dance floors then I’m not surprised.”

  Amelia let out an honest-to-goodness giggle. “Actually, I think I do.”

  “Noted. How about you? Here with friends? Girlfriend?”

  “Friends. No girlfriend.” She lowered her voice. “I like to keep my options open.”

  Nodding, I agreed, “Good call, especially when you’re young.” Oh my God when did I become one of those “when I was your age” people?

  “Not that young,” she countered cheekily.

  A particularly loud gasp, followed by a low moan from the far stall grabbed our attention, and Amelia and I caught each other’s eye before bursting into shared laughter. How fun it must be to go out with no other intention than to get as drunk as you want, pick up a random stranger to screw senseless and then wake up without a care. Actually, I knew how fun it was but I was long past that now.

  Amelia shook her head, still laughing. “You know, I’m all for hook-ups but sex in a bathroom? I’m not sure I’m down for that.”

  “Well I’m all for sex in bathrooms, but not random hook-ups.” All for was an understatement. A Technicolor replay of Bec and me in a restaurant bathroom on her birthday last year flashed through my head—her with her leg slung around my ass, me with my teeth buried in the soft skin of her shoulder to muffle the sound of my pleasure. A shudder slid down my spine.

  Amelia’s laughing smile turned ever so slightly seductive. “Between the two of us I’m sure we could work something out.”

  Before I could answer, the middle stall opened and Puker exited, looking pale but otherwise okay as she made her way to the sinks. I gestured to the stalls. “You go, I can wait.”

  “Thank you. Lifesaver.” Amelia squeezed my forearm and dashed into the stall.

  Puker didn’t seem in any need of help, so I left her to wash up and kept w
aiting for my turn. The end stall opened thirty seconds later and two supremely satisfied but very apologetic-looking women slid by. I heard their murmured sorry all the way down the line.

  I finished up in the bathroom, and had just begun my trek back to the dance floor when a hand closed around my wrist with surprising gentleness, considering it was designed to slow me down and hold me in place. “Sabine! Can I buy you a drink?”

  I carefully disengaged myself from Amelia’s grasp. “Sorry, I’m not drinking, but thank you.”

  “How about a dance then? Cup of tea? Fortune telling? I know some great knock-knock jokes.”

  I couldn’t help smiling at her persistence which was both flattering and mildly uncomfortable for reasons I couldn’t quite pin down. “I’m good, but thanks.”

  She leaned in, not touching me, and murmured against my ear, “Okay, so you’re not interested in any of my other skills. How about you come back into the bathroom, and maybe we can meet somewhere in the middle on that bathroom stall hook-up thing…”

  Clearly persistence was an understatement. Laughing quietly, I declined again. “No thank you. I’m really flattered, but I have a girlfriend.”

  She straightened fractionally, her eyes widening. “And she let you come out alone? If you were mine, I think I’d put you on a leash.”

  I winked. “Some nights, she does. Have a good night, Amelia.” As I strode away a sudden inexplicable rush of anxiety made my stomach turn over. Relax, Sabine. Everything’s fine, you’re safe here. But the awful sensation refused to go away. Bec, Titus lying upside down in his sun patch, drinking coffee from my favorite mug, sunbaking on the beach, Bec’s cuddles.

  What’s the issue? What’s making you upset? Deep breath. It was just meaningless flirting, not unusual for a club and certainly not the first time it’s happened. It’s not going to go anywhere, it never has because you never want it to. It’s always just been innocuous teasing fun and then you go home to Bec.

  Bec.

  My brain skipped like a record scratch, then looped back. Home. To Bec. Focus, Sabine, think. You have Bec. At home. But…I’d always had Bec, hadn’t I? Whenever I felt upset or anxious, who was the one thing that was always on my calming mantras, usually twice? She’d always been there, helping me, even when I hadn’t consciously realized. I was such an idiot.

  I was in the wrong place, and with the wrong people.

  I rushed across the worn wooden floor, weaving around people dancing and making out. The press of bodies which had been exciting earlier now felt claustrophobic. I found the boys leaning against a crowded area of the bar and Mitch pulled me in for a tight drunken hug, lifting me from the ground. His breath was hot on my ear when he asked exuberantly, “Havin’ fun yet, sugar?”

  “I am, thanks for bringing me out.” I held on around his shoulders and spoke right against his ear over the music. “But I’ve gotta go.”

  He set me down, looking like a scolded puppy. “‘S’everythin’ awwright?”

  Reassuringly, I squeezed his arms. “Mhmm, it’s fine. Promise. I just have to go, I need to see Bec. Sorry, can you guys get a cab home?”

  Mike set down his drink. “We’ll come too.”

  I stopped him with a hand on his chest. “Noooo, stay and have fun, seriously. I’ll be fine.”

  Mitch grasped my shoulder with surprising gentleness. His words were slow and measured, in the way of the drunk trying to seem sober. “Sure you’re good? Wha’s up? Is ’Becca okay?”

  “Mhmm. I realized that I’m…look, I gotta go.” Spit it out, Sabine. “I just love her and I need to be with her,” I said simply. I gave them each a quick cheek kiss then slipped away, winding my way through the crowd and downstairs until I was outside in the cool early morning air. Before I started toward my car, I pulled out my phone again to text Bec.

  Hope you’re not too busy. I love you, and I’ll see you when you get home.

  Home.

  Everything I needed was at home. I’d been trying to get there for so long, struggling against everything in my head. Trying to make my way back to Bec, to the place where we were meant to be. I’d taken the long route, over obstacles both external and self-made, but for the first time I felt like I might make it. And Bec would be there waiting at the end for me.

  * * *

  When I arrived home a little after one in the morning the house was still and quiet. I texted Jana to let her know where I was, put on a load of laundry, played with Titus then showered and climbed into bed. I pulled Bec’s pillow close, hugging it to me, breathing her in and felt that surge of rightness. This was where I belonged. I closed my eyes, and thought about everything I wanted to say to her when she came home.

  Home…

  I woke, tugged gently from sleep. Our curtains diffused the morning light, but I could easily make out Bec moving quietly around the bedroom. I rolled onto my back and propped myself up on an elbow. “Hey.”

  She halted like a burglar caught mid-theft. “Hey, I was trying not to wake you.”

  “It’s okay. What time is it?” I murmured.

  “Almost nine a.m.”

  I stretched. “How was work? Did you get some sleep?”

  “The usual. I managed a few naps before things got hectic around midnight. I only just got your messages when I finished my shift.” She grinned, her delight evident. “I can’t even begin to tell you how glad I am that you’re here, darling. Seeing your car in the garage was like Christmas morning.” She pulled on her pajama bottoms. “I was just thinking on the drive home how much I love the way you stagger in tipsy and horny as hell after going out dancing. I’m very sorry I missed the staggering.” Abruptly, she stopped speaking and I could tell she was rethinking what was obviously just an unconscious teasing quip.

  “Well I wasn’t drinking, so you didn’t miss any staggering.” I bounced both eyebrows. “But you might benefit from the horny part.”

  Her grin turned to one of relief, and she leaned down to kiss me. “Did you have a good night?”

  “Kinda, yeah but also not really, no,” I admitted.

  Bec’s forehead wrinkled. “Why not? Is everything okay?”

  “Everything’s fine. Except I got hit on by someone who looked like she was twelve. And I just…realized I didn’t want to be there. I finally realized where I’m supposed to be.”

  She pulled her hair up into a loose bun, and her frown was slight but unmistakable. “I’m not following.”

  I sat up, pushing the covers aside. “All this time, Bec, I’ve been trying to figure out where I fit, where my place is now that everything in my head is different. I’ve been trying so hard that I’ve completely overlooked it. The answer isn’t out there.”

  “Where is it?” she asked softly.

  “It’s here. With you.” I held out my hand and when she took it, I pulled her down to the bed. “I know it’s not going to change right away, and the medication is going to take a while to kick in and I need to work hard and do my therapy, and some nights if I’ve had a bad day I might have to sleep in the spare room.”

  When I paused to breathe, Bec answered calmly, “Okay, sweetheart. That’s okay.”

  “But I have to be here, Bec. I have to be here so you can help me, and so I can help you. I need your help. And you need mine.” Saying it aloud was easier than I’d expected, and the truth gave me strength. “I can’t do this without you. I’m sorry it’s taken me all this time to see what was right in front of me.” Softly, I traced the outline of her knuckles. “I’m such a dumbass sometimes.”

  She laughed, the sound soft and musical. “Maybe. But you’re my dumbass.” Bec kissed me again and as she drew away, I curled my hand around the back of her neck and brought our lips together again. I welcomed the familiar need tingling in my belly and without a second thought, I allowed it to take over.

  I let my tongue suggest what I wanted, a teasing slide along her lower lip before I gently pressed inside. The way she opened her mouth to me, and the tangle of hands i
n my hair told me she wanted this as much as I did. Her hands skimmed down my neck, over the front of my shoulders then paused in silent question. I drew her hands to my breasts, mine on top of hers and Bec’s low groan of pleasure at my wordless assent melted any residual fear.

  Our kisses were slow, our touches knowing and unerring as we helped each other get naked, unhurried in the knowledge that we had forever together. Our passion seemed endless, nothing but pure simple pleasure. She was warm and soft, her curves so familiar and comforting that I let myself fall completely into her. Some small part of me still wanted to shy away from her touch, to recoil and hide, but with every passing moment, every one of her soft and knowing caresses, pieces of my fear broke up and floated away.

  This was Bec. My Bec who loved me and kept me safe and had never hurt me. She pushed me onto my back and lay full length against me. Lips on my neck, teeth grazed my skin, she licked and kissed her way down to suck my nipples before continuing her worship down my body.

  I let her lead, revelling in the way she took her time, and how with each rediscovered place, she’d pause and wait for me to nod or encourage her with a quiet moan before her mouth and hands drew pleasure from where it’d been hiding inside me. The excitement was so sweetly familiar that I couldn’t help but push up into her, now desperate for her touch.

  Bec came back up until we were face-to-face. A thigh came between mine and she rocked against me, pleasuring herself and driving against my clit, until I was nearly on fire with the sensation. Her kiss was featherlight. “Is this okay?”

  “Oh yes,” I whispered, settling her fully on top of me. “More than okay.” My hands ran up and down the damp skin of her back, and I had to blink away a sudden onset of tears. This was the same, the way our bodies communicated the things we couldn’t find words for, the things we didn’t need words for. If I’d only let myself see that earlier, I could have avoided so much pain.