You’re the One I Don’t Want

by Carrie Aarons

  “We’re not even blood relatives. Before our parents got married two years ago, we barely knew each other. That can’t be incestuous.” Harper rolls her eyes.

  “Fine. Do you want to lay out all the details of your sex life with Cain?” I hit her where it hurts.

  She relents. “Ugh, no. Fine, you made your point. But things are going well with you two?”

  “Better than well. So much better that—” I don’t want to say the words out loud for fear that they might come true.

  “So much better that you’re afraid it’ll all come crashing down at some point.” She pops a piece of runny egg yolk in her mouth as if she didn’t just steal my thought.

  I point my fork at her. “Why do we always think like that? Are we so afraid of being happy that we plan for the worst? It’s like, I constantly think about what it would be like if someone I love died.”

  “Well, that’s morbid. Hope it’s not me.” Harper snorts.

  “No, I’m serious. I always think about what measures I’d have to take, if say, knock on wood, my dad kicked it. Would I have to go through his things? Sort through a will? Who would get his collection of rare coins? What would I have to split up with your mom? This is the shit I think about. My head is a fucked-up nightmare of scenarios.”

  Harper takes a sip of her cappuccino. “Nah, you’re not. You’re just brutal enough to admit it, unlike the rest of us. I think about that sometimes with Cain. Would I get kicked out of the apartment? We’re not married, so I wouldn’t get any of his money. Not that I want it, because mama makes money of her own. But you know what I mean … it’s weird stuff to think about.”

  I nod, spearing a cut up piece of French toast. “How’d we get so off topic? Anyway, it feels like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop or something.”

  “Stop doing that. I’m telling you now, woman-to-woman, you’ll drive yourself insane. I used to do the same thing.”

  “Before you were old and married,” I tease her.

  “Yeah, yeah. But I did. That doubt as a woman, that we’re not good enough, it’s innate. If you constantly listen to that voice, bad things will happen. That shoe will drop. Because you’re the one not confident enough in yourself to believe that you deserve all of the good things in your life. So stop doing it. We should all stop doing it.”

  Harper’s words speak to me on a deeper level than she even probably knows. They make me pause, mid-chew, and digest the knowledge she’s laying flat out on the breakfast table.

  I resume eating. “You know, you’re pretty damn good with words. You should write a book or something.”

  Harper chuckles. “Funny you should say that.”

  Just then, we hear the door of the diner bang shut and a creature makes its way to our table.

  “You look like hell,” I say to Thea as I scoot over so she can sit.

  She flops down in the booth. “That’s what seven whiskey sours will do to you.”

  With Harper’s permission, I invited Thea to the second half of our breakfast this morning. I’ve been neglecting the friendship there since I’ve been spending so much free time with Boone, and I know that Harper likes my prickly, vulgar friend. Plus, Thea needs help with one of the finals in our classes and we were headed to the library after this. I would never get her there if I didn’t trick her with the allure of greasy breakfast food first.

  Despite popular belief, I really do care what is happening with the people I feel closest to. I might bust their balls or bitch at them, but I care if Harper is having a tough time flushing out a book idea. I care if Thea passes a test. And I’ll help them succeed in anything they need help with, because that’s just who I am. Loyalty has become a badge of spite I wear proudly upon my chest; if you matter to me, I am going to do everything in my power to help you because I’ve been betrayed and abandoned before and I was not going to do that to someone else.

  Except you are, the little voice of my conscience whispers. Oh, just shut the fuck up, would you? I get to be loyal to myself too and have a couple moments to waver back and forth on getting my ultimate revenge on that woman. Because that’s what my own show would be: the ultimate fuck you to my mother.

  “I have like one beer and I’m hammered. I don’t know how you keep doing it, nor do I think I personally want to find out.” Harper chuckles at Thea’s misfortune.

  Thea scowls. “Keep laughing, Mrs. Kent. Not everyone can have a big dick and a nice set of abs to come home to every night.”

  “Well, I will say, it’s a plus,” I cut in, smiling like a Cheshire cat.

  “Yeah, yeah, shut it you two lovebirds. I’ll represent the disenfranchised single ladies over here.” She steals a piece of Harper’s bacon and earns a death stare.

  I put a small plate together for her out of my sampling of foods. “Yeah, but it’s like that saying, ‘you always want what you don’t have.’ Like, I envy your curly, can-be-styled-any-way hair, while I have to live with mine straight as a pin. Or people who have big boobs always wanting little ones and vice versa. It’s the same with being single or in a relationship. There are aspects of both that you miss if you have the other. I really love being in a relationship right now, but part of me envies your drunken mess of a night out.”

  Thea nods vigorously. “Yeah, like, I’d like a consistent hookup partner, I won’t say the word boyfriend because that makes me a little nauseous. But I do love trolling for random cock.”

  Harper snorts into her coffee. “Jesus, I feel like I need to go to church being with you two.”

  “Oh, come on, this is a vent space. Spill it.” I raise an eyebrow at her.

  She sighs. “Okay, I’ll admit that while I love Cain, I never dated anyone else. I never even kissed anyone else. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to experience those things for the first time again with someone else. It must be … exciting to experience different people.”

  Thea’s smile is smutty. “Hell yeah it is.”

  “But you love Cain and would never do that,” I point out. “It’s just that we always think the grass could be greener.”

  Harper nods, shrugging. “A human flaw, I suppose.”

  “No, the grass is always greener. Sometimes it’s even tan, or pale if I’m feeling freaky. And if I’m feeling downright dirty, that grass is uncircumcised.” Thea giggles wickedly.

  “Oh my God.” Harper practically chokes on her apple juice.

  I just laugh my ass off. There is no place like a girl brunch.

  Thirty-Two

  Boone

  “So, I have an idea.”

  Annabelle walks toward me, a slinky silk nightgown slithering around her body. When the hell did she manage to put that on without me noticing?

  I gulp, feeling lost for words. “Huh?”

  She chuckles, noticing my visible distraction. “I said, I have an idea.”

  Sitting up a little straighter from where I am lounging on the couch watching a replay of the movie Gladiator, I’m all ears. “I have a lot of ideas right now. Where’d you find that little number?”

  “Just a treat I packed in my overnight bag.” She takes her time making her way over to me, letting me really look at her.

  She sleeps over anywhere from three to four nights a week, and while I know we both like her being here, I have a feeling that part of her motivation is sleeping in a bed more comfortable than the one in her dorm room. But, I don’t mind, if it means I get to circle her waist with my arm at the end of the night and wake up to all of that soft, chocolate-colored hair in the morning.

  It surprised me just how quickly the feelings of resentment and hurt toward her could disappear. Yes, we are still building that trust together, but I’m not angry every time I look at her anymore. Laughter and sarcasm rule our dates, and the other day, she kissed my cheek in public for no reason at all. I am finding that Annabelle is a softer person than she tries to convince everyone she isn’t.

  “We’re going to sit here and drink this bottle of wine together. No
t in a bar, not in haste, just simply relaxing at home with a drink. Because just like you told me that I’ll never be my mother, I’m going to show you that you’ll never be your father.”

  She pours the blood red liquid into the two stemless glasses on my coffee table, the curve of her back as she bends over them way more interesting than the alcohol she’s trying to push on me.

  “I told you, I don’t drink.”

  Annabelle rolls her eyes. “That’s a self-imposed celibacy. And we both know that when you’re around me, you can’t hold out for long.”

  She lets the sentence linger in the air as she raises an eyebrow. I grab for her, sprawling her on top of me until she’s straddling my sweatpants-clad lap. I can already feel my cock start to harden.

  “Uh-uh. Drinking first, kissing second.” She leans back, exposing a strip of gorgeous thigh as she grabs a glass off the table.

  Still in my lap, Anna takes a sip and leans into me, swallowing. Her lips come down over mine, so slow and teasing that I growl.

  But when our mouths actually meet, she slips her tongue inside. And I taste it. That musky, earthy, buzzing flavor of wine. It suffuses my tongue, crackling as Annabelle kisses me. It’s erotic and heady, my body begins to tingle with the anticipation of another sip and her body grinding against mine.

  Should I allow her to do this? Should I let myself slip down this rabbit hole? I honestly don’t know what will happen. I haven’t had a drink as a legal adult, and now my self-imposed celibacy, as Annabelle calls it, seems stupid. Why did I assume that if I had a beer or two, I’d turn into the chump that my father is?

  This woman is showing me every day that she wouldn’t become her mother by being vulnerable and allowing me to see the softer side of her. I could try doing the same thing. I could prove to myself that I didn’t have to abstain from anything to avoid becoming the thing I feared the most.

  “Mm, what kind of wine is it?” I have little to no experience with any kind of wine.

  Annabelle bites my lobe gently as she speaks into my ear. “Cabernet. Full bodied, dark red … gives off notes of chocolate and oak.”

  She could very well be telling me that she wanted to suck my dick while I pulled on her hair, that’s how much that sentence about wine turns me on.

  “Give me another taste,” I growl into her neck.

  She tips the glass to my lips, and I take a full sip on my own this time. It leaves my mouth wet and dry all at the same time, and the sting of the alcohol in my nose goes right to my head. I hold onto Annabelle for support, even though she’s the one straddling me.

  “I think this is just a ploy to take advantage of me.” I capture her lips in mine, plunging my tongue into her mouth so she can taste the wine on my tongue.

  Pulling away, she shrugs out of both slinky straps of the nightgown, revealing her breasts.

  “Mmm.” I grunt in appreciation, my hands coming up to knead them as she tilts her head back, finishing the last sip of wine.

  “More?” she asks.

  I bend forward, popping one of her nipples in my mouth. “Oh, yes. Much more.”

  Sucking, biting with my mouth and squeezing her breasts in my hands leads to Annabelle coming undone on top of me. She’s grinding me hard, so hard that I might just come in my sweatpants. I’m drunk on her and the few sips of wine I’ve had … the effect of not having a drop of alcohol in five years.

  Annabelle slinks off my lap, shedding her nightgown as she does. And then she’s standing in front of me, completely naked, long hair falling down over her shoulders and past her breasts.

  “Fuck, baby, you weren’t wearing underwear this whole time? You’re cruel.” I bite my fist.

  She smirks and pours more wine into the glass. Swaying in front of me, all curves and seduction, she takes a sip and passes it to me. As I let another gulp of the red liquid glide down my throat, I feel her removing my sweatpants and boxers. When my dick is released, hard as a steel pipe, and hits the air, I hiss, choking on the tail end of my sip.

  And then my windpipe nearly collapses as she takes me in her mouth and cups my balls at the same time.

  “Holy shit,” I growl, gripping the back of the couch.

  Annabelle works me in her mouth, bobbing her head up and down, lubricating my cock. When I know I won’t last much longer, I pull her chin up.

  “Ride me. Straddle my dick and make us both come.”

  Her eyes go molten with desire. She prowls up my body, panting, and I practically pull her up to sit at the head of my cock. The wine, her naked body, my adrenaline … everything right now is at a boiling point and I can’t wait anymore.

  And then this woman, this beautiful creature, is sheathing herself on me, throwing her head back, and moaning. I can do nothing else but hold on and watch her, admire the way her hips move, and her breasts bounce in front of me. She’s radiant, completely free and has abandoned all logical thought.

  “My God …” I say in awe.

  “I know, I know,” Annabelle chants.

  She thinks I’m talking about the sex, which is phenomenal. But I’m not. I can’t get over the way she looks, I’ll never forget the expression of pure bliss on her face. Just a couple of weeks ago we were fighting about if we were actually a couple. And now, once again, this woman has made me fall head over heels in love without any effort at all.

  Some people are just drawn to others, with no explanation or time gone by. Annabelle is like that for me. An instant kind of thing, like alcohol after a long dry spell. She invades my blood, makes me dizzy, convinces me I’ll never get enough of her.

  “I’m going to—” Annabelle stills, my cock completely inside her.

  Her pussy convulses, ringing me dry. It sets off my own climax, and all I can do is grip the couch behind me as I shoot my come deep inside of her.

  After our orgasms rob us of muscle control, she collapses against me, and I stroke her hair against her damp back. And then my blood freezes.

  “I forgot a condom.” I’ve never done that before. I’ve always been super safe when it comes to sex, I wasn’t trying to end my life before it started.

  Annabelle doesn’t even move. “Don’t worry about it, stud. I’m on the pill, and if you know anything about me, it’s that I’m diligent to a fault.”

  I let out a chuckle, which is hard even now. She’s taken everything out of me. “You didn’t want to tell me that I could go bare inside of you before?”

  Anna kisses my neck, and just like that, I begin to harden inside of her. “I wanted to make you work for it.”

  My energy is back, just like that. I flip her sideways, onto her back, and come down on top of her. “I’ll show you how hard I can work.”

  Annabelle responds with an excited giggle.

  Thirty-Three

  Boone

  Aside from baseball and college graduation, I haven’t let myself think too much about what I want my future to look like.

  A house, marriage, kids … they all seem like such far-off ideas. Things that would be there when I was ready, whenever that was.

  But as we pull up to Ramona and James’ refurbished farmhouse, an image of Annabelle and I in a house of our own with a little tike running around pops into my head.

  Where the hell did that come from?

  Honestly, I don’t even know if I want kids. After what I’ve been through with my dad, even before he lost his job … I don’t know what kind of father I’d make.

  I wonder, for just a moment, if Annabelle believes in marriage and kids after all she’s been through as well.

  “Hey y’all!” Ramona stands on the porch with a little girl and a little boy, waving madly.

  “Anna!” The little girl runs down the set of white-washed wood steps, catching Annabelle around the waist in a big hug.

  Anna lets out a puff of air. “Jeez, kid, you’re gonna crush me one of these times.”

  An involuntary smile paints my lips at this child’s obvious excitement over my girlfriend. I never thou
ght of her as the kid type, but it’s clear in just a few seconds that Ramona’s daughter adores her.

  Two more boys run out onto the porch, and my jaw unhinges a little. Four kids! I can’t even fathom taking care of one little life, let alone four.

  Annabelle points to me. “Guys, this is Boone. Boone, this is Gabby, Ethan, Connor, and Justin.”

  Gabby eyes me. “Is he your boyyyyfriend?”

  She draws out the word, and I feel judged. By a kid. It’s amazing how insecure tiny little voices can make you.

  “I am.” I puff out my chest a little, trying to look worthy.

  “She’s too pretty for you.” Ethan, the oldest boy, looks at me with visible jealousy.

  Annabelle kneels next to him. “I agree, E. You know you’re the handsomest guy in the room.”

  And my heart melts. Because this woman, who is usually as warm as an ice cube, is being so soft and nice to this little boy who clearly has a crush on her.

  He blushes, and she fist bumps him. It’s a sweet surprise to see her so amiable toward these kids who clearly have spent a lot of time with her.

  “Anna, Boone, thanks for coming!” James stands on the porch, an apron reading Kiss the Cook hanging around his neck.

  “I only came because Ramona promised to make her spicy potato salad,” Anna says, and by the tone of her voice, I can tell she’s not joking.

  “And for us!” Justin, the youngest and clearly only about four or five, pulls on the hem of her dress.

  “Fine, for you!” She chases after all of them like a zombie or something, and they run, screaming with glee.

  I walk up onto the porch of their gorgeous house and think to myself that a place like this wouldn’t be so bad someday. Outside of the city, back to my small town roots, enough room to get a big old basset hound and fill it with a family.

  It occurs to me that I’ve never once thought about my future in terms of a personal life, until right now. Until I saw Annabelle running around with kids at her feet.