by Brit Benson
“I, uh, I didn’t handle it well.” She chuckles sardonically. “I still to this day don’t know how it happened. I had one drink. Just one, and I never put it down. I poured it myself. I did everything right. I was careful. But it happened anyway, and I hated how powerless that made me feel.”
Her voice has grown frustrated, and she pauses to take a breath. When she continues, her words are measured and calm once more.
“After the ER cleared me and I filled out the police report, I had every intention of forgetting it all happened. There were so many emotions—regret, confusion, anger, sadness, fear. I wanted it out of my head for good, you know? The cops all but said there was no hope of catching the guy and I just needed to move on. But I was having these nightmares. They were terrible—I could go all day ignoring and pretending, but the moment I fell asleep, all those emotions...they took control. Then one night, I was having a nightmare and Jacob came in my room to try and wake me.”
She stops to wipe a tear from her cheek, and I press a kiss to her head.
“I attacked him in my sleep. Terrified him. Scared Mom, too. That’s when she called my aunt and sent me to Bowen. I started seeing a therapist.” Ivy looks at me then with a small smile, her eyes glistening with tears. “Dr. Joyner—she’s really great. She knows all about you.”
“Good things?” I ask with a smile.
“There are only good things, Kell.” She smiles again and then looks back at her lap. “Anyway, it was only supposed to be for the summer, but I struggled at first. Dealing with all the emotions. Processing everything. I just...it was such an invasion, you know? To have my control so forcefully stolen in a way that I wasn’t even aware of until after. I just couldn’t...I didn’t want to accept it, I think. I wanted to ignore it and pretend it didn’t happen, but the nightmares were so bad... So, I stayed longer. Went to the community college. Started self-defense training, too.”
When she pauses, I take the chance and ask, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“At first it was because I was angry and then because I was scared. Part of me blamed you, even though I knew it wasn’t logical, but I was such a mess, Kelley. It was like my rational mind had short-circuited. I kept telling myself that if you hadn’t done what you did at prom, or if you’d have at least apologized, you would have been at that party with me and none of this would have happened.”
Hearing those words knocks the wind out of me, guilt fucking gnaws at my rib cage, and I have to physically rub at my chest because of the pain.
“I knew it was completely irrational to blame you, but I did it anyway. And then I would get angry with myself for relying on you like that—for not being able to take care of myself without you. You were the person I loved and trusted the most, but you were also the person my mind was choosing to blame. It was a vicious cycle. Still is, sometimes, if I’m being honest.”
“You blame me still?” I whisper. She turns and rests her head on my shoulder, so I slide my arm around her waist and hold her tight. I can feel my shirt dampen from her silent tears.
“No,” she pushes out. “Not even a little. But it’s hard to feel myself needing you. I’ve spent so much time convincing myself that I need to be in complete control, that I can’t rely on anyone but myself. Sometimes when I feel myself wanting to lean on you, that panicky part of my brain gets louder and tries to tell me that it’s a weakness.”
“It’s not, Ivy. I’ll never make you weaker.”
How does she not see? She is the strongest person I’ve ever known.
“I know. I do. And it’s ridiculous anyway, because I’ve always needed you, Kelley. Even when I didn’t want to, or when I tried not to, I still needed you. You’re my person.”
My heart pounds and tears prick my fucking eyelids. “You’re my person too, Ives. Always have been.”
She tilts her head up and places a soft kiss on my lips, and I can taste the salt from her tears.
“I need you to know that the panic attacks will likely still happen. Nightmares, too.”
I cup her face with my hands. “I’m not going anywhere, Ivy. Remember? This doesn’t make you weak. Fuck, baby, you’re so strong. I’m in fucking awe of you.” I kiss her again. “I’m not going anywhere.”
We rest our foreheads together, our soft breaths mingling, tickling my wet cheeks and lips.
“I’m sorry it took me so long to get here,” she whispers after a moment.
“You don’t have to apologize for the journey you had to take,” I say honestly. “All that matters is that I’m where you ended up.”
* * *
“Good morning, Sleeping Sexy,” I whisper in Ivy’s ear. It’s 6 a.m. on race day, and she’s snuggled naked in my bed, lying on her stomach with my grey comforter draped over her lower half. To say I don’t want to leave is an understatement.
In the last month or so since I’d bared my heart and practically begged Ivy to give us a chance, and thank the fucking gods of whatever she agreed, things have been amazing. It’s been weeks of laughter and kissing and sex and snuggling, and fuck if I don’t love the snuggling as much as the sex.
At the core of it, my relationship with Ivy hasn’t changed. It’s just more, now. More fun, more heart, more meaningful, more passionate, more at risk. The stakes are higher and so are the feelings, but I don’t regret crossing the friendship line. How can I when I get to wake up every morning to the girl of my dreams?
Ivy has taken to sleeping at my condo on the weekends while I stay with her at her apartment most nights during the week. It took a while to convince her to stay over at my place at all, though. I ended up purchasing a very specific set of 800 thread count bedsheets to sway her.
“Mmmm,” she murmurs, shuffling her feet under the covers. The movement pulls the sheets down more, revealing the twin dimples just above her plump ass, and I stifle a groan.
I’ve got a marathon to run in three hours, three hours that need to be full of race day prep, so I cannot get distracted by my girlfriend’s tempting body.
She reaches her hand up and slides it into my hair, giving me a perfect view of the side of her breast, and I’m bowled over by the memory of sucking on her nipples last night until she was writhing beneath me.
Fuck.
Revolutionary War battles.
Not my girl’s perfect fucking chest.
“Do you have to leave now?” Her eyes are still closed, and her voice is the sleepy kind of sexy, which does nothing and everything for my now hard dick.
Powder Alarm. September 1st, 1774.
“Soon. I’m going to grab breakfast and then head to the park. I’ve got to check in and warm up.”
“Mmmm,” she hums again, dropping her hand from my hair and trailing it down my chest. When she opens her eyes, they’re hooded, swirling with heat, and the deepest, darkest of blues. Sex eyes.
Fort William and Mary. December 14th.
“Do you think you can stay for just five more minutes?” She wets her lower lip and then bites it lightly.
Lexington. Concord. April.
“I don’t know, babe. I need to be at the park soon...” My half-assed protest is weak, and she knows it. I mean, I don’t know why I have to get to the park that early...
The naughty smirk she flashes goes straight to my groin. “Just five minutes,” Ivy pleads, and just as I’m about to recall the dates of the Siege of Boston, she rolls onto her back, baring her entire front side to me.
Full breasts. Smooth belly. Glistening, swollen, sweet pussy.
All of it on display. All of it mine.
So, I do what any hotblooded human would do with a naked and willing Ivy Jean Rivenbark in their bed. I forget all about Revolutionary War battle sites and launch myself at her, laying claim on my girl’s body with my tongue while simultaneously jerking my dick.
Six minutes later, she’s sated and passed back out, and I’m ready to run a fucking marathon.
21
When Kelley crosses the finish line with a tim
e of three hours and twelve minutes, we’re all waiting for him.
Me, Bailey, and Jesse are wearing matching t-shirts and have been camped out for the last hour, and when we finally see him heading toward us, we start jumping and whooping and cheering him on.
It’s a blast.
Almost makes me want to run a....ew, no, never mind.
Kelley jogs up to us and immediately pulls me into a hug.
“Sorry I’m all sweaty,” he pants as he peppers me with kisses.
“I like you sweaty,” I tease.
“Well, how about we go get sweaty together?”
“Nope!” Bailey yells, “No dry humping in public!” I can’t help but bark out a laugh. “I know you guys wanna boink like bunnies but we’re going out to celebrate first.”
“Beers first, bone later,” Jesse snarks with a nod then grabs Kelley’s shoulder. “You just ran a fucking marathon, my man. Ivy has submitted all of her law school apps and scored a 177 on her fucking LSAT retake. Bailey signed up to do that bake-off thing—”
“That’s not for certain yet,” Bailey interjects. “But yeah, the goofball is right. Aaaand he got another acceptance email yesterday.”
“No shit?” Kelley crows. “That’s great, J. Is it—”
“Nope,” Jesse cuts him off with a light shrug. “Haven’t heard from them yet. This one was from Perelman. So still hella good. Which means we need to celebrate!”
“I’m definitely down for a celebration,” I chirp. We deserve it.
“My soccer buddy’s frat is having a party. A couple of them ran today, too. We could grab some food and then hit that up? I just need to go back and shower first.”
“Yes! Plans made.” Jesse claps once, does a little shimmy, and starts pushing Kelley toward the park exit. “Now let’s get this man his post-race craft beer.”
* * *
The house seems to be thrumming with energy. The music is loud, the front porch is packed with bodies, and everyone is holding a red plastic cup full of god knows what.
As we walk up the sidewalk toward the frat house, a guy in a polo bumps into Bailey, sloshing the liquid from his cup onto her shirt.
“Sorry,” he grumbles and stumbles off.
“Yeah, it’s cool.” Her sarcasm is evident as she shakes the liquid off her sleeve. She lifts her arm up and sniffs, then turns to Jesse with a Cheshire grin. “Fireball and fuckery,” she laughs. “You’ll fit right in.”
Jesse scoffs. “Please. Dr. Vanessa Hernandez raised no peasant. I’m much more refined. I’m more of the Don Julio and Debauchery type.” Kelley and I laugh loudly, and Bailey rolls her eyes.
“You’re such an asshat.”
“Ahem,” Jesse says brusquely, pointer finger in the air as if he’s about to make a crucial statement. “A refined asshat.”
While they’re snarking amongst themselves, Kelley’s phone pings in his pocket.
“Huh,” he says as he reads the message. “Preston is on campus.”
“Preston from high school?”
“Yeah. When I ran into him a few weeks ago, I told him to hit me up if he was ever in town.” He takes a moment to shoot off another text. “He’s coming here. That cool?”
“Yeah,” I say with a shrug. “I don’t think he really liked me much but I’m sure we can get along for a night.”
Preston was an entitled, jerk-faced weasel of epic proportions in high school, but maybe he’s matured in the four years since I’ve seen him last.
Ugh. Please, let him have matured.
Kelley threads his fingers through mine and leads me through the door. We weave in and out of bodies until we reach the back of the house, then step outside onto a large deck.
“Kelley!” A guy I recognize from Kelley’s soccer scrimmages waves us over.
“Scotty,” Kelley says as they slap hands and do that weird bro-y handshaking back-pat thing. I’m so glad Kelley and Jesse just hug and don’t bother with the extra whatever that was. “Ivy, this is Scotty. He’s whose truck you’ve been driving.”
“Oh!” I perk up at that information. “Thank you so much for letting me learn to drive manual on your truck.”
“No problem. Anything for the Rocket Man’s girl,” Scotty slurs with a grin. “Thanks for not wrecking it, though,” he adds seriously.
“Thanks for the invite, man,” Kelley says to him, and then he introduces Scotty to Jesse and Bailey. Bailey excuses herself to the edge of the yard to take a phone call, and Jesse bounces off in search of beer. When Kelley and Scotty are done chatting, Kelley laces his fingers with mine once more and pulls me in the direction of the makeshift dance floor. I wave to Bailey, so she sees where we’re going, and she gives me a thumbs up.
The music is much louder when we enter the house, and some sort of bassy club song is pumping through two large speakers. When we reach the area where people are dancing, Kelley lifts my hand and twirls me, making my stomach flip and my heart skip. I swear I smile so much when I’m with him, my face hurts.
“You look gorgeous,” he says once he pulls me against him. “Have I said that yet?”
“Mmm, I think you might have mentioned it once or ten times.” I smirk at him and he nips at my lower lip. The pulsing beat of the next song is something slower, and we move our hips in time with the music.
Kelley runs his hands up and down my back. “This skirt is killing me tonight. And those fucking heels. You should let me fuck you against the wall when we get home. Heels and skirt stay on.”
Mmm. Yes please. The weather is uncharacteristically warm for November in Indiana, so I took a risk and wore a black, patent leather skirt paired with a tight, black, cold-shoulder sweater. The desire dripping from Kelley’s words tells me the risk definitely paid off.
“You sure you’re up for that? You just ran a marathon. I could always ride you instead—heels and skirt on.” I raise a suggestive brow and bite my lip.
“Yes,” he nods rapidly. “Yes to both.”
“Then why wait until we get home.” I run my hands up his chest as I speak, and he blinks at me, eyes flashing hot with need.
“Are you fucking with me?” he asks after a moment, and I give a coy shrug. “Baby, the thought of taking you anywhere in that skirt makes my dick hard.” He presses his pelvis into me so I can feel the proof of his words. “But you’re mine, and I’m not sharing. Not even a viewing. So, I don’t want to wait. But I will.”
I whimper. “Can we go home now, then?”
Kelley snickers. “Soon, baby.” He pulls me in for a kiss and it leaves me dizzy. The way he can completely disarm me with just a kiss? It’s sinful.
Both of our phones go off at the same time, so we break apart to check them.
“Mine’s from Bailey,” I tell Kelley as I text her back. “She’s getting an Uber back to the apartment.” Bailey says nothing is wrong, that she’s just tired, but I don’t believe it. So, either she’s upset about something or she’s meeting someone. I’ll get it out of her tomorrow. I text her back an okay and ask her to share her location with me, and when she sends not only the location but also a picture of her Uber driver, I put my phone away and look up.
Kelley finishes his text and puts it back in his pocket. “That was Preston. He’s here somewhere.”
Frick. I forgot about Preston. Now we can’t go home and do naughty things to each other. Kelley must be able to read my thoughts through my pout, because he leans forward and captures my lips in a passionate kiss.
“Soon, baby. Give me an hour, and then we’re going straight home and we’re not leaving until you come at least three times.”
“Promise?” My voice is breathy and needy.
“Promise,” he growls.
Gah. Stupid high school friends sex-blocking my sexy time.
I take a deep breath and peck him on the lips. “I’m going to find the bathroom.”
“Want me to come with you,” he asks, just as Jesse strolls up and hands Kelley one of the three beers he’s carrying.
>
“It’s fine. If I’m not back in fifteen, come find me.” I kiss him again, then gesture to the beer in Jesse’s hand. “Hold that for me, please.”
I weave through the throng of people, make my way up the stairs, and find the bathroom. There’s a group of girls inside, so I lean on the wall and scroll through my phone while I wait my turn.
Now that I’m not studying for the LSAT every waking minute, I’ve started reading some of the indie romance novels Bailey is always raving about. I was skeptical at first, because I tend to gravitate toward true crime stories, but once I started, I couldn’t stop. Holy moly, do I love smut now. I didn’t know there were so many different ways to describe a penis, though. Fascinating.
I pull up the e-reader app on my phone and select Bailey’s newest recommendation, but I can’t quite focus. The back of my neck keeps prickling and I get the strangest feeling that I’m being watched, but when I look around, I see nothing out of the ordinary.
When the group of girls leaves, I hurry in and do my business. The bathroom is actually communal with three separate toilet and shower stalls. It’s a lot nicer than some of the frat bathrooms I’ve seen. Two of the three toilet stalls actually have toilet paper, too.
Color me impressed.
Go you, Sigma Nu Chu! Or whatever frat this is. Scotty deserves a high five.
As I’m washing my hands, the door opens behind me. I peer into the mirror briefly and see a muscular body enter, so I grab some paper towels and make my way to the door.
“Excuse me,” I say, my eyes on the door handle as I attempt to sidestep the stranger, but his hand grabs my wrist and I stiffen.
“Ivy?”
My steps falter when I see that the man holding my wrist is actually Preston, Kelley’s friend from high school, and my body relaxes.
“Preston,” I say with an awkward chuckle. “You scared me.”
He smiles. “Wouldn’t want to startle Ivy Rivenbark, would I?” He tilts his head to the side as he speaks.