“Ugh, what?! That’s so … limiting. All right, um … I’ve read all of the Hunger Games books. Five times.”
I can’t help but hoot out in laughter at that one. “Of all the things to share, you divulge your secret Katniss crush?!”
Jared shrugs as he sets two plates on the counter.
“Okay, well I went through a huge Eeyore phase when I was younger. Used to hang all of my ribbons and medals around the fluffy stuffed animal’s neck. I guess I still kind of have that obsession.”
“I know. I saw him in your gym bag one time in the locker room at Filipek’s.” The bastard scratches his abs, distracting me from the betrayal he speaks of.
For the next two hours we talk about all kinds of things; our favorite foods, TV shows that we loathed, our dream vacations, comparing the bones we’d broken.
Jared and I eat pepperoni pizza, butt-ass naked in his kitchen until the sun comes up … and I can’t remember a day in my life that has been better than this one.
23
Peyton
The girls sit in a circle on the empty floor in the Arena of Dallas, munching on avocados filled with chicken salad.
“What if I drop some on the floor?” Anna giggles.
“Don’t. We’ll probably get fined and then Gail will slit all of our throats.” Nat laughs as she sips on her iced tea.
“Fuck it, we’re bringing a crowd anyway. We can eat chicken salad where we want to eat chicken salad.” I fling a tiny piece onto Nat’s nose.
I’m downright giddy, looser and more light than I’ve felt in years. Practice today was … fun. I haven’t had a truly fun gymnastics practice since I was about ten.
“You’re in a downright cheery mood today …” Nat eyes me suspiciously.
It’s alarming how well she knows me, just from the slight skip in my step or an extra great hour of tumbling.
“Are you going to throw that standing full on beam tonight?” Julia asks Nat.
Nat nods, “I did it three times in practice, figure it will be a crowd pleaser.”
“You never let up … I admire that,” Julia compliments her and I roll my eyes.
Their friendship peeves me, mostly because I feel like they understand each other more than I understand my best friend these days.
“You want to kiss her after you swallow too, Julia?” I bat my eyes sweetly at her.
“Yeah, and then I’ll stay the night. I know you don’t have much experience with that, seeing as they’re usually kicking you out or you’re fleeing in your walk-of-shame best.”
Ouch, that one fucking hurt. I try to plaster a smile on my face, but Julia’s insult has bile bubbling up my throat at how awful it was. I’m not sure if I should keep sitting here, get up, or what. My bliss from the night before with Jared is momentarily dulled.
“You two need to sort this shit, and fast. I’m not doing this whole mean girls thing anymore. You’re both smart, beautiful women. You could be fast friends if you put your stupid opinions aside.”
Nat is pissed, and I instantly feel like crap. I was beginning to come out of my shell, interact with people more and try to cool my sass jets.
“I’m sorry Julia, you’re right. I have done those things. But people can change. And now I sound like some kind of after school special.” I laugh at myself.
Nat’s jaw unhinges. “Did you just … apologize? Are you on drugs? Did someone hit you upside the head with a rainbow? Wait … did you … NO. You got laid!”
Heat fills my cheeks as I try to fight the blush creeping up my face. I hadn’t wanted to brag about my night with Jared. Which was … odd. I’d always boasted about my conquests, it made me feel older and more important than my teammates. But this time, even though it was way more important and special than the losers I’d been with, I didn’t want to talk about it just yet. Like if Jared and I stayed in our tiny, perfect, isolated bubble … nothing else would go wrong.
“Oh my shit, you did, didn’t you!? Who did you pick up last night?” Nat punches me in the shoulder.
“What, just because you’re sex-starved, I have to spill my guts?” I shrug and open an organic fruit strip.
What ever happened to just eating a damn fruit rollup? I burned enough calories to splurge sometimes.
“What she isn’t saying is that James told me that she asked Duke for Jared’s address.” Anna rips open a bag of Skinny Popcorn, and white puffs litter the blue carpet of the floor exercise mat.
“Glad to know no one around here gossips.” I mumble, annoyed that Duke gave me up.
“You went to see Jared last night!?” Nat is even more incensed.
I don’t feel like doing this in front of the other girls, but Julia, Quinn and Anna stare at me curiously. And I haven’t had girl talk in … well, forever. I’m not really a girls’ girl, so this feels fun.
“Why do you sound so surprised, you’re the one who told me to go for it! And if I’m not blind, you definitely got to him, too. I know you, Natalia Grekov.” I give her the stink-eye, but I’m not really mad. She may have talked to Jared about me, but it’s only because she wants me to be happy. And more specifically, for me to be happy with him.
“Wait, you’re sleeping with Jared?” Quinn looks confused.
“Only for like, the last four years.” Julia chimes in, thinking she knows the story.
“Uh, wrong. Technically, we did sleep together four years ago. But last night was the first time in four years.”
A series of giggles, shrieks and “oh my Gods” commences. I blush, but inside the butterflies are flapping their big, beautiful wings. Thinking about last night makes me feel like a little girl with her first crush. Even though what we did was much, much kinkier.
“So was it just, hot-one-night-stand-we’re-on-tour sex? Or was it like, make love-Boyz II Men sex?” Nat moves closer to me, as if she’s hanging on my every word.
“The latter,” I answer her demurely, like I’m some sort of Victorian lady.
“Ugh, don’t you just love that? When you’re so in tune that it feels like he’s looking at your soul? Like he’s telling your body when and how it should orgasm?” Anna looks off dreamily, and I’m a little disgusted by her fairy princess routine.
“Fuck, I miss sex. Spencer always does this thing when we’re doing it from behind. He reaches around and rubs my … well, yeah.” She’s too eager to talk about this, and I know right there that she’s definitely thinking about her boyfriend’s dick.
“What is Jared’s best move?” Anna wants to know.
Laughing quietly, I take a drink of lemonade before I answer. “Oh, I’m definitely not going to tell you that. It would make your toes curl, and those of you taken ladies would definitely dump your boyfriends. No, I’ll keep that man and his tricks all to myself.”
Quinn and Julia haven’t commented in the discussion yet, so I try to be friendly. “How about you two? What is your favorite position in bed?”
Quinn looks away and Julia shrugs, and instantly I know I should never have asked the question.
“I … uh, well actually, I’ve never been to bed. Not like that. So I guess I don’t know.” Quinn let us all in on the fact that she’s a virgin.
By being friendly, I accidentally outed that she hasn’t lost her V-card. I should just never try to make friends, because clearly I suck at it.
“Well, the three sexual encounters I’ve ever had have been less than satisfactory, so don’t rush into it. I don’t see what all the fuss is about anyway.” Julia shrugs as she spears a piece of avocado.
Ugh! Why can I not just shut my big mouth.
But of course, my brain doesn’t listen. “Well, you might not be able to orgasm with a man because you’ve never gotten off by yourself.”
Quinn giggles. “Like … masturbation?”
I laugh with her. “Yes, my little grasshopper. Masturbating, flicking the bean, rubbing the nub. All of the above. I don’t care what you call it, but you need to familiarize yourself with your body.
How do you expect a man to get you there if you don’t even know what does it for you?”
“Do you use a vibrator?” Anna bursts out with her question.
I nod. “Stick with me, and I’ll give you all the guide to a satisfying self-orgasm. Yep, you can use a toy if you need. Watch porn. Find out what you like … it’s different strokes for different folks.”
Julia wants to act like she’s disgusted, but I know she’s secretly listening and storing the tips in her head. Hey, if I can get someone off without actually having to do the work, I’ll chalk that up to an A plus.
“Isn’t it … sticky?” Quinn pipes up, and I know I’m corrupting her. Excellent.
Nat can’t help but chuckle. “Believe me, it feels amazing. Your body is meant to do it, and it’s a great stress reliever.”
“Just don’t do it while I’m sleeping below you,” Julia mumbles.
“I’ve never talked about this.” Quinn looks sheepish.
“This is what girl talks all about once you hit puberty! Gone are the days of Barbie’s and cute boy bands. Not that you need to be having sex, hell … avoid men altogether for a few years if you can. But you can always come to us with questions.” I nod at Quinn and hope I’m being a good friend.
Hell, if you can’t talk to your friends about masturbation techniques, what can you talk to them about?
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize we were having a full course meal.” Gail stomps up to us and taps her foot on the floor, her face crimson and angry.
“Now there is someone who needs to get a vibrator,” Quinn mumbles under her breath, but so that the rest of us can hear it.
We all burst into sidesplitting laughter, and I’m in an even better mood than I was when I left Jared’s this morning.
24
Jared
The next week and a half of the tour are a learning experience, in terms of both the United States landscape and random facts I’m gathering on Peyton.
We perform for one night in multiple cities and then move on, traveling in the night like bandits on the run. Oklahoma City, Wichita, Kansas City, Chicago, Minneapolis all fly by past the bus windows. The stadiums and event centers blend together, the landscapes change and snow melts and falls.
I learn that Peyton loves The Golden Girls and eats edamame whole. She freaks out when it thunderstorms, but doesn’t mind driving in three feet of snow. Her favorite pastime is sitting on a bench in a park or at a booth in a restaurant and making up stories about the people around her; that one there is a Russian spy, or that one is a philandering husband out for the night with his much younger mistress.
And she learns things about me. She discovers that I am the only man in America who prefers hockey over football. That I only listen to Christmas music a week before the holiday, and will cover my ears if it comes on the radio before then. I show her the scars from my elbow surgery, and she doesn’t even flinch when I play her the YouTube video my surgeon put up of the procedure. I confess that after I retire, I plan to get my physical therapy degree, but that I’m scared to go back to college. What if I’m not smart enough? What if I fail?
These little intricacies, they’re tying us together. And we’ve been tying ourselves together in other ways too. They say, whoever they are, that sex is better when there is an emotional connection. And sure, we sort of had one in London. But this ….
I can’t begin to describe what the sex is like now. It’s religious … metaphysical. On an entirely other level.
And as I stand here, in another club in another city in such different circumstances than when we first reunited, I can’t help the way my dick swells and aches for Peyton. Even if I was inside that sweet, pink pussy just hours ago.
Her slim body writhes with the music, the long sleeve dress hugging every curve just perfectly. I can make out the swell of her breast, covered in maroon lace, as the strobe lights pass over her. She times each thrust of her hips or wiggle of her butt with the music. Her mouth pouts and then smiles, yelling lyrics at the top of her lungs as the other girls gyrate around her.
And then she catches sight of me. And her face lights up to the point where I think the sun itself is shining out of her eyes.
“Baby!” Peyton launches at me, and I catch her warm, smooth body in my arms. “Whatcha doing standing over here all boring?”
She’s tipsy and happy, and I usually don’t love when she drinks but tonight it’s turning me on. She’s rubbing up against me like a cat, and I can practically smell the arousal slick between her thighs. The head of my cock throbs incessantly as she grinds up against me.
I bend down to growl in her ear. “I’m not boring. I’m over here watching my sexy-as-fuck girlfriend dance for me. Do you know what I’m going to do to you when we get back to the hotel?”
Not to mention, all of the other men in here are eyeing her like she’s going to be their next meal. Los Angeles, man … it’s almost as seedy as New York when it comes to the hook up scene but three times as fake. Everyone here is trying to make it, or fake it until they make it.
Well, not tonight, not ever … not with my woman. Jealousy and possession course through me almost as thick as my arousal, and it’s a heady combination that almost has me taking Peyton down right here. I’ve always gotten off on my jealousy, and it’s only increased tenfold now that we are actually official.
Peyton’s eyes are shiny with lust in the pulsing lights of the club. “Why don’t you tell me?”
I’m about to whisper into her ear again as my hand travels down, grasping one tight cheek … when someone interrupts us.
“Peyton Adams!”
She turns her head in a daze, drunk on vodka and dirty talk. Some bozo in a too-tight sport coat and sunglasses smiles at her, standing only a foot from us. The first thing I register is that he’s invading our space and trying to talk to my woman. The second is a question; why the hell is he wearing sunglasses in a dark nightclub? And the third thing I register is that Peyton is slowly moving out of my arms and into his, hugging him as he cops an all-too-familiar feel right above her butt.
“Smith! How are you? It’s been ages!” Peyton breaks away from his embrace as he holds her at arms length.
“Doll, you look delicious. I’ve been good, babe, you know, just hopping from this party and that, making my rounds. Have to be seen out here. I’ve missed you since we went to Chateau … you remember that night.”
His leering smile and the way he’s talking to her tits says that something I really don’t want to imagine or hear about went down on that night.
“I know, I’ve been back on the gymnastics circuit, but we really did have some fun times! Oh … this is Jared.”
Peyton turns to me as if I’ve only just arrived, and we weren’t just in the midst of talking about how and where we’d like to rip each other’s clothes off. I don’t miss the fact that this dude is looking at my country-fried outfit like I’m a cockroach … or that Peyton didn’t introduce me as her boyfriend.
“Oh, hi. Anyway, you should come back to my house. I’m renting this mansion up in the hills—”
That’s about all I need to hear before I turn on my heel and stomp out of the club. I thought we were over this, her distancing herself from me by flirting with other men. I thought she was done with that lifestyle, but clearly that had been wishful thinking.
Peyton will always be this split personality; the kind and playful woman when no one is around, and the sassy minx when the world is watching. I want her to be the person she is when she’s with me … all the time. I don’t want the show or the façade. I can’t stand to watch her talk to other men who have only been with her for one thing. It makes my blood curdle knowing she’s back there, that sleazy Hollywood guy touching her. That’s a life I don’t associate with her, and one I thought was over for her.
My rage brings me back to the hotel, where I head straight for the bar. Girls in glitzy mini-dresses and men in slim-fit suits and jeans crowd the overly-noisy place … every in
ch of it gleaming with marble and gold. It’s gaudy and so typically LA that I want to get on a plane and fly back to the boondocks of Texas straight away. But I can’t, and so even though I wasn’t drinking a thing at the club, I flag down the bartender and order a whiskey neat.
Just as he sets my drink down, I feel a touch on my elbow.
“Jared …”
I turn and see Peyton, looks of sadness and guilt mixing on her face. Everything in me wants to scream my jealousy and fury at her, but I check myself, always putting manners first. We’re in public, and I don’t do scenes even when I’m mad.
“Go upstairs, Peyton. I really don’t want to talk to you right now.”
“I thought we were done with holding grudges and skirting around our issues.” She doesn’t take her fingers from my arm.
As I take the first burning sip, I shoot back. “I thought you were done pimping yourself out to losers.”
Her face falls, her red painted lips frowning even further as her hazel eyes drop to the ground. I know I’ve hit her where it hurts, and although I think it will make my pain recede, it doesn’t. For the first time in our entire relationship, it kills me to hurt her with my words.
“Let me explain. Please?”
She won’t look at me now, but I can hear in her voice that she’s pleading. I’m still so mad you could probably fry an egg on me with how hot my blood is boiling, but something in her body language is emoting such anguish that I agree.
“Fine.”
Peyton peaks up at me, her eyelashes brushing up off her cheeks. “Okay, but not here. Upstairs?”
I follow because … well, because my body, heart and brain don’t give me any other option.
25
Peyton
The walk to my room is silent, and there are so many emotions crowding the hallway that I’m amazed the structure of the walls don’t explode.
Tonight was … a setback. That’s all I keep thinking as we get closer to my door. That I’ll be able to explain to Jared why … why I’m like this. Why I turned out of his arms and into Smith’s. Why I entertained a conversation with that, well Jared was correct to call him a loser. Why I left out the fact that Jared is my boyfriend.
Grasping Air (Flipped Book 2) Page 11