by E. K. Blair
My grip on the steering wheel is firm, and I try to focus on the road so I don’t get into a wreck.
“We’re almost home. I can’t concentrate with your hand on my dick.”
Mark laughs, and it only encourages him to not let up. Unbuttoning my pants, he grazes his nose up my neck, and then bites my ear. Hard.
“Christ,” I say as I jerk my head away and slightly swerve the car into the other lane.
Mark starts cracking up and begins tugging down my pants. He slips his hand beneath my boxers, and I’m already hard when he starts stroking me.
“You are so fuckin’ hot,” he nearly growls in my ear, and I could almost come from the sound alone.
I grip his wrist and force him to stop. “I’m gonna drive us off the road if you don’t quit.”
He doesn’t let go of me, and I don’t loosen my hold on his wrist either as he begins ravaging my neck. Everything about this car ride home is making me lose control, and I throb in his hand.
I pop the curb as I speed around the corner to get into the parking garage. Mark laughs, and I don’t even give a shit when I turn to park, taking up two spots. I shut the car off, slam the seat back, and let go of his wrist. I practically pull him on top of me, claiming his mouth with my tongue as he jerks me off.
After the fun we just had in my car, I say to Mark, “Hey, I need to talk to you about something,” as we step into the elevator.
“Yeah, I want to talk to you about something too,” he says, and even though I need to tell him about Preston, my curiosity piques.
“Yeah, what’s up?” I ask him.
The doors slide open and we walk up to my apartment door as he says, “It’s about Thanksgiving.”
Opening the door, we head over to the couch to sit down. I normally go home for Thanksgiving, but given the last couple of phone calls with my mother, that’s really not a good idea right now.
Propping my feet on the coffee table, I slouch back as he continues, “Why don’t you come home with me?”
My head snaps up to look at him. I’m caught off guard. “What?”
“Don’t freak out on me, Jase,” he says as he cocks his head to the side. I’m sure he can see the hesitation all over my face.
Trying to keep my cool, I tell him, “Thanks, but I’m gonna stay here.”
“And do what?”
“Look, it would be one thing if your parents lived here and I stopped by for the day, but—”
“I get it. But they don’t live here, and I want them to meet you. So if that’s ever gonna happen, then you’re gonna have to come to Ohio with me.”
It’s not so much the meeting them; it’s not knowing what their reaction will be. Shit, I barely even talk to my parents at this point. Even though he tells me they are cool with everything, I’m not about to put myself in a situation that could backfire on Mark’s intentions. How will they look at me? At us? Us as a couple?
“Are you gonna say anything?” he asks.
I don’t want to hurt him, but I can’t go. I can’t chance the rejection. I’m not ready, not yet. “I love that you want me to meet your family, but I don’t think it’s the right time.”
Shifting to face me, he says, “You know I love you, and you need to know that I would never ask you to put yourself in a situation that would hurt you.”
I know that he wouldn’t, but I also know that people are unpredictable, and flying across the country to meet my boyfriend’s parents after almost four months is a bit terrifying.
“Yeah, I know,” I sigh, and he returns with, “Don’t say no. Just think about it.”
“Do your parents know about me?” That’s probably a stupid question, but I’m curious about what he has told them.
“Yeah. They were the ones that wanted you to come out.” When I lay my head back on the couch and stare up at the ceiling, he says, “They’re totally cool with everything.”
Rolling my head to the side to look at him, I say, “I don’t know, but I’ll think about it.”
He grins as he leans over to kiss me, and the knots in my stomach begin to loosen.
“So, what was it that you needed to tell me?” he asks, and the knots—they’re back.
“We can talk about it later.”
Ryan has scheduled the band to play a short set for the Thursday night crowd. I told Mark that I wasn’t going to go. I’ve been trying to finish up the requirements for my design before the quarter ends, but I’m worn out and need a break. When I check the time and see that I can probably catch Mark before the end of their gig, I decide to go ahead and go up to the bar for a little bit. I toss on a loose-fitting t-shirt hoodie and run a little gel through my hair before heading out.
When I arrive at Blur, the band is still playing. The place is busy, as expected for a Thursday night in a college town. Thursday’s are always big nights around here.
“Jase!” I hear Mel holler at me when I walk in.
Leaning against the bar, I tease, “Do you ever get a night off?”
“No, never,” she laughs out and when the seat next to me becomes vacant, I get comfortable and order a beer.
I listen to the band play from behind me, and find myself zoning out. I’m not sure how much time passes when I hear Aiden telling the crowd goodnight. When I turn around, I catch Mark’s eye as he steps off the stage. His half-smirk brings me out of my seat and has me wanting to be near him.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, surprised, as he draws close.
“Just wanted to see you.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Not long. Wanna head back to my place?”
Giving me a smile, he says, “Yeah. Let me go pack up my stuff.”
I follow him when he heads back to the stage. Watching him pull the cords from the amp, I turn my head and spot Aiden and Preston. God, this guy just won’t disappear.
Not wanting another awkward exchange, I rush and ask, “You almost ready?”
“Yeah,” he says as he zips up his guitar case and stands to sling it over his shoulder, across his chest.
“Aiden, I’ll catch you later, okay?” Mark says as he jumps off the stage.
I look over at Aiden as he gives Mark a nod, then cringe at that fuckin’ accent that keeps tormenting me.
“It was good seeing you again,” Preston says to Mark as he takes a couple of steps closer. “You should come out with Aiden and me on Saturday,” he adds without taking his eyes off of Mark, and I swear he’s doing this shit just to piss me off.
Things have been so crazy lately that I haven’t found the right time to tell Mark, and now the guilt floods me, along with irritation at this whole scenario, and I snap. “What the fuck is your problem?”
“Jase?” Mark questions sharply.
“What the fuck is your problem?” he throws back at me. “If you have something to say, then say it.”
“What’s going on?” Aiden asks as he approaches, and I look over at Mark, whose expression I can’t quite read.
Shifting my attention back to Preston, I want to knock the shit out of him. But instead, I grit through my teeth, “Nothing,” and then walk away, heading straight out the doors and to my SUV. I’m beyond pissed. Pissed at myself for more reasons than I’m probably willing to admit.
“Jase.”
Mark is right behind me when I reach my car, and I turn and just spit out what I should have told him as soon as I knew his connection to Preston. “Preston and I hooked up. A couple of times.”
“Hell, Jase.” His two words are soaked in disappointment, and it’s enough to send me to a place filled with self-afflicting regret.
“I should have told you when I found out that you knew him, but . . . everything has just been so upside down lately.”
Shaking his head, he asks, “So what was that about back in there?”
I lean against my car, and explain, “The last time we hooked up ended badly. I was messed up and upset with what happened with Kyle and hurting you. I
was lost—”
“You fucked that guy after that?” he throws at me, pissed now.
Words escape me as I stand there and drop my head, feeling completely embarrassed.
“What’s wrong with you? Why do you use people like that?”
“Because I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing!” I yell at him. “Because I’ve never done this before and I’m fuckin’ confused!”
“You’re confused? Really, Jase?”
Backing up my words, I’m so goddamn frustrated with myself as I continue to yell, “No! I was. I’m not now. I’m not confused with how I feel about you.”
“Why couldn’t you just tell me? When you knew that I knew him . . . you should have told me.”
“I know,” I say in a mass of failure.
“I feel like an idiot. Oblivious that you fucked both of us, and the two of you knew that I was clueless.”
His words sting. They burn deep when I realize that I’ve hurt him a lot more than I thought. In ways I didn’t even consider. I want to tell him I’m sorry, that I love him and nothing about this was done out of malice, but looking at the pain in his eyes, I know my words would be nothing more than cheap.
When I don’t speak, he turns and starts walking away.
“Mark,” I plead, not wanting him to go.
He looks back at me and says, “Go home, Jase,” in a soft voice filled with disappointment before turning his back and leaving me to stand alone, the one thing I was hoping I wouldn’t have to do again.
Lying in bed, listening to the rain fall, I wonder what he’s doing. I’ve sent him several texts since I got back to my place, but it’s been hours, and nothing. I feel like I was just playing a losing game with him. There was no way to win him with all my issues. I never deserved what he gave me. I pulled back from so many of his touches because of my own baggage. Baggage that didn’t deserve to be unloaded on him.
He took it all and never made me feel like I wasn’t giving him enough. I gave him all that I could, but truth is, it wasn’t nearly enough. He needs more than I can give.
I tried. But I keep making mistakes. Mistakes I can’t take back. I wonder if—for me—there’s more than this, if I’ll ever be more than this. For once in my life, I really tried letting go. Tried letting go of the fears I held inside and gave it a chance. I don’t think I’ll ever be the same after him. If this is all we were ever supposed to be, at least I loved enough to hurt. The hurt isn’t enough though; it needs to be more than this, but I know it won’t be.
Turning my head, I look at the large rain-covered window as the drops twitch down, colliding with other drops, gathering, until the weight takes over and they quickly fall the rest of the way down. Desperate, I reach for my phone. It’s almost three in the morning, but I’m selfish and don’t want to be alone. Walking out of my room, I take my keys, and before I make it to my door, there’s a light knock. Letting out a deep breath, I find it ironic that she needs me at the same time I need her, although for much different reasons.
My heart skips a beat when I open the door to find Mark. What is he doing here? He looks at me, taking his time. Time is my affliction. I deserve it, but I don’t want it. It stands still and pangs inside of me as I wait for him to speak, to tell me he can’t do this, to tell me it’s done with. But I also don’t want time to continue ticking because I want this, even if it’s just a look—I’ll take it forever.
He moves past me and steps inside. Shutting the door, I lean against it when he turns to face me. Time begins to move when he finally speaks.
“What you did carries no weight on what we are; I know that. But you not telling me hurts. I don’t expect for you to tell me about your past, but when that past is part of our present—”
“I know,” I interject.
“You really let me down.”
“I’m sorry. I honestly wasn’t trying to hide it from you, I just . . .” I let my words trail when I start struggling to speak around the lump in my throat.
“I know, but I still can’t help feeling disappointed in you.” He takes a moment as he leans against the wall next to me. “I want more from you. I need you to not hold back from me. It’s only fair, Jase.”
I don’t know how to respond because his words are coming out of left field for me. How is he not pissed? How does he see value in this?
“Look . . . I don’t want to pretend that knowing how you used to be with guys doesn’t bother me . . . it does. And running into your past may or may not happen again, and I hate that. But it’s only because I love you. If I didn’t, then I wouldn’t care.”
“I feel like I keep hurting you.”
Releasing a deep sigh, he tells me, “Just be upfront with me. Talk to me; that’s all I ask. I get that this is new for you, but in a way, it’s new for me too. I’ve never felt so strongly for someone like I do you.” He takes a moment before saying, “I’m not mad.”
“I need you to be mad.”
Taking a step toward me, he asks, “Why?”
I walk over and sit on the arm of the chair before admitting, “Because I need to feel it. So that I know that you can see this for what it is.”
“And what’s that?”
“Imperfect. Unequal.” Dropping my head, I release a deep breath before looking back up at him. “I’m undeserving and selfish. You’re worth so much more than what I’m capable of giving you.”
He moves to stand in front of me and takes my face in his hands as he questions me intently. “You don’t think you give me what I need? You think I’d stick around if you didn’t fill up pieces inside of me that only you’ve been able to?”
As he moves his hands to my shoulders, I drop my eyes when I tell him, “My pieces feel stripped bare.” I catch his eyes when I look back up and tell him, “I’m not sure I even have enough of them.”
“Maybe I have what you’re missing. But if you keep holding back, you’ll never find out. You’ll never know how well we can fit together unless you try.” I grip his shirt in my hands, almost pained by my confessions when he affirms, “I need you to try.”
“So that’s it?”
“It’s really all it needs to be. There’s no point in making this into anything bigger than what it is. I’m not that guy. You didn’t tell me about Preston; I get it. I’m not blind to everything going on in your life right now. But I told you how I feel and what I need from you. What else is there?”
When I shake my head, not sure how he can be so understanding, Mark clips the thoughts that are already starting to invade when he says, “Don’t tell yourself that you don’t deserve it. You do.”
Standing up, I wrap my arms around his waist and bring him to me. “No. I don’t. All I know is that I love you. And I’m sorry. You’ll never know how much, but I am.”
He moves to kiss me, and I take it, lingering in it until he pulls back and says, “You can’t be scared to talk to me,” before pressing his lips to cover mine.
I run my hand behind his neck and hold him close, not sure who to thank for bringing this man into my life, but there’s no doubt in my mind that someone—someone who knew everything I was needing—sent him to me.
We find ourselves in my bed. Although exhausted as the sky takes on a lighter hue with morning starting to filter through, I hold Mark in my arms, connected in a way I never knew was possible, feeling his heart beating against my chest. We quietly make love, moving together, giving exactly what we know the other needs.
In our own way, we release everything from earlier and move forward. That’s all we can do because it’s just us here. And when Mark runs his lips up my neck and breathes his words, “I love you,” into me, I know I’m his.
“I don’t know about this,” Candace says from the backseat as we turn into the parking lot at Spines.
She’s been a bit nervous ever since we picked her up. Getting out of the car, Mark opens her door and takes her hand. “No worries, okay?” he tells her.
I smile over at him. We’ve spent the pas
t couple of days together, feeling like we just needed the time to feel settled with what happened the other night. Mark is right though, nothing needs to be bigger than what it really is. And me not telling him about Preston doesn’t even really measure up to what Mark and I have. We’re bigger than that, and I’m glad we’re both on the same page about it.
I follow the two of them as we walk in. Ryan was right; there are only about a hundred or so people here, and the lights are low with candles all around. I spot the bar and leave Candace with Mark while I go get us drinks. When I grab the beers, I turn to see her holding Mark’s hand while they’re flipping through the vinyls.
I look over and see the band step up onto the platform stage and head over towards the two of them.
Handing them each a beer, I say, “Come on, they’re about to start playing.”
We find a spot behind one of the low bookshelves, and when the band starts playing, Candace leans into me—her way of saying thank you. I wrap my arm around her and pull her into me. I’m so proud of her for stepping out of her comfort zone tonight.
We listen to a few songs, and when we finish our beers, Candace and I go to grab another round.
“You having fun?” I ask as we wait for our drinks.
With a slight grin, she says, “I am. Thanks for this.”
The bartender hands over the bottles and we begin to walk back over to Mark. Ryan is with him, and Candace nearly chokes on her beer. I can tell they recognize each other by the looks on both of their faces.
“You again,” she says to Ryan and he doesn’t speak. He watches her with the strangest look, but snaps out of it when Mark asks, “You two know each other?”
“Not really,” he says as he finally breaks his stare.
“He’s come into Common Grounds a couple times to get coffee. How do you guys know each other?” she asks Mark.
“He owns Blur, where the band has been playing lately.”
“And the guy who gave me the tickets,” I add. “Thanks, man.”