I lay back on my plush pink pillows and sigh. I've never felt such an extreme rush in my heart as I did when I thought he was going to kiss me. The smile that's been glued to my face slowly fades. The almost-kiss. Nobody has ever looked at me the way he did. His eyes were soft and bright, but I could sense his struggle. I wanted him so badly to kiss me, more than I ever thought I could want a man to kiss me or touch me. I was brought back down to reality when he kissed my forehead like a best friend or even an older brother might do, ick! Puke.
I feel foolish for even hoping he would kiss me. I'm not his type. I know this, yet I still get caught up in his looks. Tonight it was more than his freaking gorgeous body...it was his attitude and gentle lovability. I groan in misery, and sink further down in my bed.
Then there was the way he brushed my lips with his thumb...I'm throbbing just thinking about it. His hands felt rough but somehow, against my smooth skin, it just made me want to lean into him more––to collapse into him and let my warmth press against him until it invaded him and he had no choice but to touch me more and hold me closer. Not to mention, when he started rubbing my ribs, I got so wet, and it took everything in me not to moan. I swear if I really let myself go I think I could have orgasmed.
Mmmm. I quietly moan and graze my hand slowly over my breast and pinch my nipple pretending it's his rough hand and not mine. I can feel myself getting wet just thinking about Todd touching me, caressing between my legs. My hand dip under my pants and inside my panties. I start rubbing myself, my fingers easily sliding in and out and up and down. I imagine him sliding his fingers inside me and curling them in the perfect way with just the right amount of pressure. I moan, and pick up speed. I'm breathing hard, and I know I'm so close. I picture his mouth sucking and biting my nipples. I moan louder, and turn onto my belly, grinding into my hand. I imagine him replacing his hand with his mouth, and the thought alone is enough to make me come as I moan loudly into my pillow.
Holy crap. I can't believe I just touched myself while thinking about Todd. I can't believe I just touched myself in general. I've only done that a handful of times, but I've never had an orgasm like the one I just had. My cheeks burn red at the incredibly dirty act I just committed. I groan, and drag myself off my bed and into my bathroom to take a shower and wash the day off of me. I wonder what Todd's doing right now…
––Todd––
I groan loudly as I ram myself into Becky one more time before coming. I push my hand against her back to keep her ass in my face before I'm ready to take my dick out. Then I immediately remove my hand and my dick the second I realize how messed up it is that I basically just walked into her room, turned her around, bent her over, and fucked her brains out. I don't even think I said hi.
"Oh my God," she breathily says, trying to recover from the pounding I just gave her. I take the condom off carefully, and flush it down the toilet in the bathroom connected to her insanely luxurious bedroom at her aunt's house. I walk back out, but instead of flipping her over, I push her shoulder so she falls on her back. I kneel on the floor, grab her legs and roughly pull her until her ass is nearly hanging off the bed. She lets out a small squeal. "You're so intense tonight," she comments as I place her legs on my shoulders. I don't say a word. Instead, I wrap my mouth around her pussy.
Thank God she comes in a matter of minutes, because I'm ready to just go home and pass out. I hate to say it, but if I hadn't fucked her so hard and coldly then I wouldn't have cared about her coming, and I would've left her high and dry without an orgasm. That's how much of an asshole I am. Yet, she still wants me to come over and fuck her all the time. I don't get women at all.
Except Amelia. Amelia's easy. She wants the dedicated Catholic husband who is sweet and affectionate. The amazing father of their two kids and the breadwinner with a safe, cushy job behind a desk in some lame office. That's what Amelia wants. That's what Amelia deserves. She's a good person who deserves what she wants. I don't know why that bums me out as much as it does. I know I can't give her any of those things. I know I'm not good enough for her. She's made that perfectly clear by using me as some toy to throw around in front of her parents.
"Hey, what's wrong?" Becky asks having regained her senses.
I shake my head as I pull on my pants hastily. I throw my shirt on, grab my jacket, and mumble, "Sorry. I'll call you later."
Once I'm outside her aunt’s white fortress of a mansion––that seriously looks like the White House––I praise God for finally healing me enough for me to break out my bike again. After riding all the way out here to the nice, rich side of town and partaking in some intense activity, I'm pretty damn sore. It'll be an uncomfortable ride home, but there's nothing I need more than to feel the wind breaking around me as I recklessly drive out of the neighborhood and back across the train tracks to where I belong.
21
–– Amelia ––
I smooth down my black dress as I hit the bottom of the stairs. I don't typically dress up for Sunday dinner but in this case, I just put on the black dress that I wore to church this morning. It's, of course, modest, with sleeves that end just above my elbows. The sleeves and bodice are tight, and made of stretchy fabric with a subtle imprinted criss-cross pattern. At the waist, it flares out into a flowing, flirty skirt almost like an old 1950s cocktail waitress. An excellent dress to twirl in. I know because I just spent the last five minutes twirling in the mirror.
I take a look around our old house. To the left is our living room with the dark blue sofa and loveseat that we've had for over half my life, and its age shows. It's not terrible, but there are only so many times you can turn the sofa cushion over. It needs to be reupholstered. Our coffee table is older than me, but its dark-stained oak wood is resilient and will no doubt last for years to come. Our TV is a big, old box TV with a large base. The carpet that covers the living room and connects to the dining room in our open concept floor plan is brown, and in need of a good vacuuming. I curse myself for not getting the house looking the best it can look. Perhaps I shouldn't care what Todd will think, but I do. I know his house is small and old, but I still feel self-conscious about mine. I want things to look nice for him. He already judges my family; I don't want to make it worse.
The walls around the dining room to my right contain a giant print of The Last Supper by Leonardo Da Vinci, and on the smaller wall is a giant wood sculpted crucifix. I never realized how weird it is to eat under a large cross with a dying, bleeding, tortured Jesus hanging off of it. My mom has already set the table for six, and I'm thankful that she has included a placemat for Todd even though neither she nor my father have spoken a word about it since our argument. I glance up at the clock in the living room. Todd should be here soon. My heart drops into my stomach. I can't remember the last time I was this nervous.
The doorbell rings and I jump a foot high. Josh comes crashing downstairs just as I'm walking to the door, and he almost knocks me over. "Watch it, Josh!"
"I got the door," he says to me, and it takes everything in me not to run, jump on him, and tackle him to the ground. I can't have Josh embarrassing me in front of Todd.
"No! Josh, I got the door," I sternly tell him, taking off behind him through the living room.
"What's all that commotion out there?" My dad shouts from his office down the hall.
"Nothing!" Josh and I both yell at the same time. Josh opens the door so fast that it blows a gust of wind in my face, and some of my hair gets stuck in my mouth. I frantically fight to pull and spit it out.
"Hey Mon," Josh greets his girlfriend with a hug and big wet kiss. He pulls her inside. It's not even Todd. I sigh a breath of relief that Todd didn't see me being choked by my own hair.
"Gross," I comment without even realizing it.
"Don't be jealous of my relationship, Amelia, just because you don't have one," he digs. My blood starts to boil, and dinner hasn't even started yet. Nobody can make me as mad as my own younger brother.
"I do, too, have a boyf
riend! He's going to be here any minute," I attest like a child.
"Right. This boyfriend you've gone out with once, like we're supposed to believe you have this random boyfriend all of a sudden." With air quotes he adds, "Todd."
I almost want to laugh because if he were a few years older, he would know the name Todd Bartlett. Todd's reputation sort of precedes him. But, because Josh is only a freshman in high school, he has no idea who Todd is.
"What's up? I heard my name," Todd says, appearing seemingly out of nowhere. I didn't even realize I still had the front door open. His voice alarms all three of us who are still crowded around the open door. I look at him and fiercely blush. He's wearing a white button-down dress shirt with the long sleeves rolled up. The way it's fitted makes it look like a modern fit, but I'm pretty sure that it’s only a bit tight because it's one of his old oxford uniform shirts from Mount St. Mary's. His black suit pants look relatively new, and the contrast between his dark pants and light shirt make his bright eyes shine. His golden hair is parted and slightly combed back.
"You need a haircut," I blurt out without a filter.
"Aw, you look nice, too, Sweet Cheeks," he cheekily responds, smiling.
Josh erupts into obnoxious laughter while Monica just politely stands there. What she sees in him, I'll never know. "You're kidding me, right, Amelia? This is your boyfriend? This is the mysterious Todd you've mentioned? You can't honestly expect us to believe that this guy is dating you."
He's such an ass-face. His words punch my heart, and I can feel a prickling behind my eyes. I can't believe I'm related to someone so rude.
"Believe it," Todd swoops in and says, once he realizes I'm too stunned from my brother's harsh words to say anything. Todd wraps his arm around my waist, and pulls me into him. I look up at him, and before my eyes can even question his abrupt movement, his lips are on mine and his hand is in my hair. Every tense part in my body completely eases, and I fall further into him. He holds me tighter, and I'm pretty sure my heart grows a few sizes. The kiss only lasts a few seconds, and as soon as I feel his mouth start to open slightly I snap back to reality. I break away from him, and as he licks his lips I turn redder than I think I ever have. I can't believe he kissed me like that in my parent's house, and right in front of Josh and his girlfriend!
Josh mutters, "So fucking gross." He shakes his head and leads Monica into the dining room, no doubt to say “hi” to my mom.
My breathing is still not regular when Todd lightly leads me backwards with his hand so he can shut the front door. "Calm down, Amelia. I heard what your brother said. What a dick. Is he always like that to you?" He whispers. I'm not able to speak so I just nod my head. I lead him through the living room, and up the awkward two steps to the dining room where Josh and Monica are already sitting. We walk through the swinging door that leads into the kitchen.
My mom is chopping onions with her back facing us. "Mom, Todd is here." She groans and places the knife down on the cutting board. She wipes the side of her eye with her upper arm. My face darkens, finding it hard to believe that she was so rude. What is with my family today? She turns around to face us.
"Ugh, sorry," she apologizes with watery eyes. My irritated face turns to concern.
"Mom, what's wrong?" Can she really be that upset about Todd?
"Oh, it's the onions. I've never been able to cut them without tearing up. Ridiculous, I know." She chuckles awkwardly. "Uh, Todd, uh, how are you? I would shake your hand but, you know...onion hands," she claims, wiggling her fingers in the air. I raise my eyebrow skeptically. She could easily wash her hands.
"No worries, Mrs. Baldwin, and I'm doing just fine. Thank you for having me over for dinner," he politely answers. My mother then turns her back to chop onions again.
Over her shoulder she says, "Oh, that's good to hear." I wait for a moment for her to say something else but she doesn't. I look at Todd and roll my eyes and mouth, Ooookay.
"I'm going to show Todd around," I tell her.
"Sure," she says, as if I was asking for permission. I shake my head in disbelief at her shortness and lack of interest about getting to know Todd, and about my life.
I lead Todd out of the swinging door, and back through the dining room where Josh is playing with Monica's hand, pretending to read her palm as she giggles. When did I come to dislike my family so much? We hop up the stairs, and turn left into my bedroom down the hall. Once the door is shut between the rest of my family and us, I can finally breathe a sigh of relief.
"I'm so sorry," I tell him contritely with my hands covering my face in embarrassment. I'm not even worried about how my room looks because I'm too horrified about the actions of my family.
"No, I'm sorry that your little brother is such a shithead. Don't let him talk to you like that, Amelia," he tells me adamantly.
"I know. I'm sorry." I shake my head, and cover my face with my hands again. "It's so embarrassing."
"Hey, hey, don't apologize for him. It's not your fault." He holds my hands and gently pulls them away from my face and I try not to cry. "Don't be embarrassed. My situation is about a million times worse than this. This is cake compared to what I have to deal with. Seriously, don't be embarrassed." He pulls my shoulders in and wraps his strong arms around me and squeezes. I allow myself to hug him, and snuggle into him. Once the hug starts to get awkwardly long, we both pull away.
"Uh, so...this is your room?" He looks around, taking in my mauve colored walls. I've never been so happy to not see the Backstreet Boys, pet calendar, and stuffed animals around. He looks down at my queen size bed with its quilt of mostly pinks and purples. He gets an evil grin on his face, and I eye him suspiciously. He takes it upon himself to bounce down on my bed, and lean back against my fluffy pillows and kick his feet up. He smiles at me and wiggles his eyebrows up and down. "What do you do with all this space, Sweet Cheeks?"
"Not what you think I do, that's for sure," I reply. "I'm a stupid virgin remember?" As if he needed to be reminded...
"That doesn't mean you can't get down and dirty with yourself," he says, clearly amused with my discomfort. My eyes grow wide and my face turns red remembering how intense my orgasm was last night at the mere thought of him touching me. My face lets on too much because he lets out a laugh. "No way. You do. You touch yourself in this bed. I knew it."
"Shut up, Todd," I hiss at him.
"Fine, fine, fine," he says quickly. "But just tell me one thing...do you ever think of me when you do it?"
"Oh my God!" I take the few steps to my bed and grab one of the pillows and immediately bash him with it. He laughs and defends himself, covering himself with his arms.
"You can hit me all you want, it's still a turn on."
I hit him harder. I kneel on the bed closer to him so I can get better leverage. It's a mistake though, because now I'm in grabbing range for him, and that's exactly what he does. He yanks the pillow from me with one hand so easily that it surprises me, because I was holding on to it for dear life. As I fall forward toward him, my dress flips up right as his other hand grabs my upper thigh. Before I know it, I've fallen against his chest, my leg is around him, and his hand is holding my upper thigh and part of my butt...meaning he can feel my silk panties. We both freeze for a moment weighing the incredible awkwardness and sexual tension of the situation we accidentally fell into. Literally. I feel a keen sense of fight or flight. If he made a move on me right now there's no way I could say no.
"Sorry, I didn't mean–" Todd starts moving his hand away from me like I suddenly caught fire.
"Sorry for hitting you–" I say at the same time making us sound like mumbling messes. "Maybe we should just–"
"Go downstairs," we say at the same time. We look at each other and both take a deep breath.
"Let's go," I tell him, walking to open my door.
"Yeah good call," he replies, following close behind me.
We walk downstairs in silence. When we reach the bottom and turn right into the living room, m
y mom is setting down dishes on the table. Josh and Monica are already sitting at the table, and Josh is drooling over the food. My dad is still in his office.
"Good timing," I mutter, and my mom shoots me a dirty look as she sets a serving spoon down.
"Amelia, there you are. Josh just told me you were upstairs." She puts her hands on her hips and raises her eyebrows, which is her way of letting me know she's mad at me. It scared me as a kid, but now all it does is show off her forehead wrinkles. "Why would you keep Todd away from us when you want us to get to know him?" She calls me out. I look at her like she swallowed a bottle of crazy pills. Last I checked she didn't want to get to know him at all.
"Yeah, Amelia. We want to get to know him," Josh sneers. I narrow my eyes at him.
"Sorry, I asked Amelia to show me around. I'm here now, though, and I’m happy to sit down and talk over dinner," Todd offers, stepping out from behind me, where he was hiding this entire time for some reason. He places his hand on my back, and the warmth seeps through my dress and spreads throughout my body. Why does it feel so good every time he touches me?
My mother silently goes back through the swinging kitchen door to grab another dish. Todd and I sit next to each other, across from Josh and Monica. My mother comes out and sets a steaming dish of ham on one of her old ornate platters. She takes a deep breath and yells, "Mick, it's time for supper!" My dad rounds the corner, and treks through the living room as she screams.
Wrong Place, Right Time Page 10