by Gabrielle G.
We were reconnecting.
Unfortunately, his boyfriend hadn’t promised not to speak about Aaron. When I protested, he threw in some lawyer jargon, and all I could figure out was that he had found a loophole. Dex was intense, and his blue eyes were equally as chilling to me as Luke’s warm brown eyes were warming me up. It was a hard contrast sitting facing these two.
“So, you’re the happiness he let go?” Dex had said out of the blue. “I can see it.”
“Dex, don’t be a dick!” Luke had chastised him. I was confused, but if my confusion was a sign that I had no idea what these two were talking about, it didn’t stop Dex from going on.
“I’m sorry, are we supposed to shut up and let these two lose more time? Your brother says he doesn’t want to hear about her, but then goes on and on to me about grabbing his happiness and if he has a chance, to not let Alane go again. Mrs. Smith here is trying hard not to bring up the subject, but every time she looks at you, she’s dying to ask about him, and I’m supposed to shut up and see what happens?”
What surprised me the most was how accurate he was.
Was I so easy to read?
I did want to ask Luke who, what, when and where about Aaron, but I was trying not to. Knowing Aaron didn’t want to hear about me hurt. Knowing he wanted a chance at happiness confused me even more.
“Babe, you can’t fix this,” Luke told his boyfriend.
“The hell I can’t!” Dex said impatiently. In all that, I had one question. One simple question I knew I needed the answer to.
“Isn’t Aaron married?”
Because if he was, why didn’t he want to hear about me? What had I done that made him want to forget me? And how was I his lost happiness? He was married for more than twenty years, I believed with the girl he dated right after me, and when I say right after, I mean, a few weeks after dumping me and leaving town.
Luke winced at my question, and Dex laughed. How these two were dating was puzzling. One looked like the Ice King and the other like a Care Bear.
“Not for long,” Dex said as Luke sent his elbow into his ribs.
“Beardy, I’m not against rough play, but not in public.” I blushed at imagining these two having rough sex. God knows I’m not into that anymore.
We left things with a promise to keep in touch, but we both knew that ship had sailed when we were kids.
Aaron, though, is another story.
I don’t want to face him, but I am curious. Who is Aaron Jax? Is he a good husband? Is he a good dad? Judging by his kids, he seems to be.
Lawson reminds me of Luke, always with a notebook in his hand, artsy, and loves science. He’s a cute kid and girls are not immune to his charm.
Hailey, on the other hand, is the tough beautiful athlete, too perfect to be true, too competitive to have real friends, and too smart to put it all in sports. She and I are like oil and water, we don’t get along, and I suspect Hailey has it easy because she is the star athlete.
I know the feeling, and I’m pretty sure she isn’t giving a hundred percent.
It didn’t surprise me when Patricia said Aaron wanted to meet with me to discuss Hailey, but I was a little shocked at the tone of the email Patricia forwarded to me. It was very protocoled, as if he didn’t know I was his daughter's teacher.
That’s when my anxiety dissipated. I had the home-ice advantage and decided to arrive late.
First because I wanted him to be in the classroom when I came in and to wait for me. I wanted to have the upper hand. I wasn’t one hundred percent sure he’d leave once he’d seen it was me.
Second, I knew I would need a few more minutes to pull it together, check myself in the mirror, and apply a little more lip-gloss.
Maybe it’s superficial, but I wanted him to look at me and see what he missed out on.
Perhaps I’m not over it.
Perhaps it isn’t mature, but I’m certainly not the only woman who wants to look good when running into an ex.
I need the Universe to be on my side for that meeting, along with my best hair, best outfit and best attitude.
Even if the confident, go through fire seventeen-year-old Alane he knew is long gone. I can still manage to find my way back to her on occasion, even though I had hated her as much as I hated him.
When I finally arrive in my classroom—a good ten minutes late—he’s looking at the wall with his back to me. His shoulders are broader than they used to be, and his hair is now grey.
That’s what I see first.
Then I find his ass in his perfect jeans, and I can’t remember ever seeing such a remarkable butt.
I thought it would be easier to have him in my classroom, but Aaron Gritt is still a piece of art, and seeing him here brings back emotions I’m not ready to face.
I had forgotten how many times he waited for me between two classes to steal a kiss.
I had forgotten how I used to wrap my arms around his waist when he had his back to me like now.
I’ve blocked the images of my younger self being happy with the teenager he was.
I’ve erased the dates, the pecks, the make-out sessions, the hand-holding, the long afternoons we spent on the ice or our discussions about the future together.
I know I was young, but to this day, it was the happiest time of my life.
Even the first years being a mother weren’t as light as that time with Aaron. All was still too raw. I was hurting too much, holding my son in my arms, wondering about the what-ifs.
Even the first few years of marriage were never as happy as when I was with Aaron, racing against one another. I never found the same happiness. I never really looked for it either.
As I feel my anxiety rising, I try to calm myself down. I won’t let myself have a panic attack in front of him. There would be no better sign to tell him what a fuck-up I am than to fall on the floor, crying, petrified to take any actions. As my therapist has told me to do so many times before, I concentrate on the good in the present instead of dwelling on my past issues.
Adam is okay.
I am okay.
I am enough.
I deserve to live the life I want.
Plans can change, but it could be for the best. I’m proof of it.
Facing Aaron Gritt is just something I need to do.
Clearing my throat, I summon up the courage and enter the room.
“Glad you could make it.” When he turns to face me, I give him my brightest smile, even if my heart pounds in my ears, bile rushes into my throat, and my knees weaken. Because my smile is what he preferred, and right now, I’ll give anything for him to look at me like he did when we were teenagers.
But around his blue eyes are wrinkles, he now has a beard whereas he couldn’t grow a mustache, and his gaze toward me is indifferent.
His whole demeanor shows me that time has passed, and we’re nothing to each other anymore.
“Mrs. Smith, thanks for having me,” he says, reaching out his hand.
The dagger he planted into my heart starts bleeding again when I register his words.
No Al, no Alane, no Sweets, but Mrs. Smith.
It then becomes clear to me that these many years later, my first love doesn’t recognize me.
7
Then – Aaron
“Sweets, slow down,” I breathe in her ear.
I’m hard and about to come in my pants. Alane and I are making out in my truck, and she’s getting more and more handsy. She’s always touching me when we’re alone, and I have to tell her to stop, to keep it clean.
It’s torturing me, but I have to.
I promised her dad nothing would ever happen, and I want to keep my promise, but tonight she’s driving me crazy. She found a patch of skin dangerously close to my cock to torture, her tongue is exploring my mouth, and her eyes are burning with desire.
It’s our first kiss anniversary, and we’re back from a burger and a movie. That’s all I could afford, but I think she liked it. I’m already putting money aside fo
r her Christmas gift, but I’m not working enough to give her the beautiful things she deserves.
I’ve picked up more shifts at the diner and now work mainly in the kitchen, helping to clean and prep the food. I like it and would love to work more hours, but more hours there mean either no time for hockey or for Al.
I would drop hockey in a heartbeat if I knew it wouldn’t hurt my dad. I can’t do that to him. There is no way I can let Al go, but I want to do more things, to get her the best things, and these things cost money. I’m not sure what to do; I just wish I could stop playing hockey.
“I know, Aar, I’m sorry, just… I wish we could... I want you so much,” she says, straddling my lap. My hand disappears under her shirt and traces along her bra.
“Me too, Sweets. I just, I promised, you know...”
“I know, and you’re a man of your word,” she says half-annoyed, half-content.
“That’s why I love you even if…”
“You love me?”
“Didn’t I ever tell you?” Alane is not the most forward with her feelings. Compared to my family, where everything should be discussed all the freaking time, the Smiths don’t share feelings, or discuss issues. Do I know she loves me? Of course. I have no doubt she does. Did she ever tell me? Nope. So, I didn’t tell her either, even if my heart is as much about to burst as my dick.
“Never, Sweets.”
“Hmm… Well…” She’s so shy it’s freaking cute.
“Sweets, look at me.” She does. “I love you.” The blush creeps up adorably on her cheeks, such a contrast with the girl who wanted sex a few minutes ago.
“I love you, too,” she whispers.
I bring my lips to hers and kiss her hard, my lips hungrier than they’ve ever been.
“What about dry-humping?” She breathes with a certain mischief in her eyes.
“Al.” My voice is strained. My cock hardens in my shorts, and Alane moans, unquestionably feeling the warmth of me between her legs. I wish I could go to third base, but I know one thing will just lead to another, and I want to respect my promise. Alane is grinding her crotch on my length, and her actions have a contrary effect on my dick than on my self-control. One is getting thicker while the other is getting thinner.
“Aar, I want you to make me come,” she whispers between kisses, her hips moving back and forth on me.
“Please, I can’t. Your dad…” She shuts me up with a kiss. Her brown eyes are fiery.
“Technically, dry humping is not deflowering me,” she says, kissing my neck. “I masturbate thinking of you, you know. I know what an orgasm is.” I grunt.
If I visualize her touching herself thinking of me, I will come, right here and now. “Don’t you masturbate thinking of me?” she asks in a honeyed voice and with a bright smile she knows I can’t resist.
“Yeah,” I manage to say, nervous and even more turned on.
“So, what if we masturbate each other through clothing. What’s the difference?” I’m trying hard to think of why we shouldn’t, but my brain is fogged by desire, and I have no reason for us to stop. As she gets faster, I lose control; and give it all to her.
“I want to kiss your breasts,” I tell her.
I’ve touched them before but always through her T-shirts and bra. I have never seen them, I have never kissed them, and if there is a part of Alane’s body that drives me wild, it’s those magnificent breasts she jiggles in front of me.
I love her because she completes me, she understands me like nobody else but Luke, she is competitive and goal-oriented, but if I had to pick one piece of her body I love the most, it would be her tits.
I’ve stroked myself many times, wishing I could have my tongue on them or my cock thrusting between them like I saw in the magazines Chris found in his uncle’s car.
“We should move into the back,” she says in a husky voice, but I can’t move. My dick is nicely tucked close to her folds and never wants to leave this paradise. Before I can answer, Al removes her top, and I’m faced with her sports bra and the object of my desire. She arches and brings my head to her breasts.
I inhale her scent.
She smells like peaches, but also like something new, desire perhaps, I’m not sure, but it drives me wild. I nibble on her peaks through the fabric and knead her flesh.
“Please, Aar,” she pleads.
I bring my thumbs to each nipple and circle them slowly. “Kiss them. Make me come,” she says, grinding harder. I bring up her bra to let her breasts free and admire them. They are big enough to fill my whole palm; I squeeze them giving all my attention to her pink nipples. They are gorgeous, pale, adorned by a few moles and a star-shaped birthmark.
It’s a dream come true.
I tremble as I bring my lips to one and put it in my mouth. French kissing the bud like I do her tongue, I have no clue what I’m doing, but I must do it well because Alane is moaning above me. Her head tips back, and her blonde hair falls down like that first time I really saw her after practice. I could die a happy man right now.
“Aar, I’m about to come, please make me come. The stitching of my shorts is rubbing on my clit. I wish it were your finger.” I had no idea my girl was such a dirty talker, and it turns me on. It turns me on so much that I come in my pants, without warning. It’s quick and messy and mortifying.
“Shit.” I mumble, “I’m sorry, Sweets.” She shoved her hand into her jeans and starts playing with herself. I’ve never seen someone do that.
I’m captivated.
“Get your mouth on my tits and continue what you were doing. I can’t stop now.” She gasps.
So, I oblige, wanting to make my girl come. She’s panting while I suck on her breasts, and she moans like I’ve never heard her do before.
“I’m so wet, you always make me so wet. I would love you to…” She doesn’t continue what she’s saying as her legs tighten against my thighs, and she screams my name, again and again, until she falls on my shoulder.
Seeing her come is more beautiful than anything I thought I would ever see. Her chest is red, and her whole body is shaking on my lap.
I was wrong before, now is when I can die a happy man.
I kiss her breasts a hundred times more, getting acquainted with each of her moles and her birthmark before putting her bra back in place. Her lips find mine, and she kisses me, slowly, lovingly, and sensually.
“Happy anniversary, Aar. I love you.” She sighs.
“I love you, too,” I say drunk on what we just did in my truck. Al gets back in her seat, slipping on her T-shirt and looks at me with so much love in her eyes that my heart explodes. There is no doubt to me that this girl is the love of my life.
“I should go,” she says at the same time a loud bang comes from my hood. I turn my head to see her dad, facing us. I blush right away, guiltily, knowing that what we just did is a loophole that will lead us to Hell. He signs for me to open the window.
“What were you two doing in here for ten minutes? Now Alane is late for curfew.”
Nothing comes from my mouth.
I could blurt the truth and lose my girl, or I could lie and keep her, but my brain can’t choose which path to take. Losing her is not an option, but lying to a man of God, even if I’m not religious, might give me bad luck or some shit like that.
Alane’s father is looking at me, ready to maybe murder me, perhaps not with his bare hands but surely with God’s help. If God exists, I really hope he’s going to keep his mouth shut about what he saw tonight and never tell Father Smith.
“Sorry, Daddy.” Alane saves my ass. “We were just listening to a song I really like. Aaron keeps telling me to get home, but I just wanted to hear the end of it.”
He looks at her suspiciously, but she smiles, the same smile she gives me when she really wants something or when she’s happy to see me. The same smile she gave me ten minutes ago when she was using her sweetened voice to convince me to dry-hump in my truck, in front of her house, next to the church, in the middle
of the street. The smile I love more than anything.
“Get in, Alane, you’re late!” he says before turning towards the house and walking along the driveway. She leans into me and gives me a small peck on the lips, that’s all her dad allows in front of him. It’s quick and not enough after what we just did, especially after almost getting caught, but that’s all I can get, and that’s all I can give.
“I’ll be thinking of what we just did when I masturbate tonight,” she whispers, smiling at me.
“Fuck, you drive me insane,” I readjust my hard but wet cock.
“Alane! Hurry!” her father screams.
“I can’t wait for our next date, Aaron,” she says, the devil on her shoulder.
She runs to her dad and gets inside while I stay dumbfounded by what we just shared. I hate myself for not being a man of my word, but I love that my girlfriend seems to want me more than she loves God.
I drive home hard and run to the shower to clean up and replay the whole scene, stroking myself, not having to imagine what her breasts taste like but knowing. I dream of my mouth going down past her breasts to her navel and lowering to her pussy, imagining what she tastes like between her legs.
I heard some guys do that.
It excites me as much as thinking of her mouth around my dick. I come again, spent by the evening and hoping we could go further. I knew that if we’d come together, I’d want more.
We opened Pandora’s box, and I’m not sure how I can wait until we’re married now. It seems so far away, but Alane is worth waiting for, her eighteenth birthday can’t come fast enough.
8
Now – Aaron
Hailey’s teacher is gawking at me.
If looks could kill, I would certainly be dead by now.
Then her eyes fall on the hand I extend, and I don’t know if she’s going to be sick or slap me.