by Amber Burns
Holly clears her throat. “Okay, here goes.” She smooths a hand down the leg of her black tights.
The box-like teal dress she’s wearing falling below her knees. The black cardigan hanging off her and could easily have been meant for someone twice her size. She doesn’t look old enough to be dressed so professionally, and definitely not to be leading us into the first round of drinking fun.
“I used to have a monkey as a roommate, I can twist a mean cherry knot and for two years I played on a burlesque trailer show.” She looks around. “Who’s supposed to answer?”
“I will,” Jesse raises his hand, forcing Dan to glower and lower his. “Number one and three are truths. Two is a lie.”
Astra is shifting beside me and glance over to see her rapt interest on the game. For someone who isn’t playing, it has me wondering if she’s considering the hard alcohol now for the game.
“You’re right,” Holly sighs. “I have to drink, right?”
Dan nods gravely, only his twinkling eyes give him away. “Bottoms up.”
She tips her head back and wrinkles her nose on swallowing, her throat convulsing. Dan and Jesse laugh.
Jesse picks up the ball with his turn. He gives three pretty obscure statements and when it falls to Dan to decipher it he’s at an obvious loss as to how to answer.
“No,” Jesse shakes his head at his guesses. “Nice try though.”
Dan downs his drink and hisses, holding up a hand and waiting for his throat to clear of the vodka wash. “It’s number two then. That’s the lie.”
“Nope.”
Groaning, Dan waits for Holly to refill him and he gulps the loser’s vodka.
“My turn,” he says, coughing from his beat down by Jesse.
The floor is turned to me as I listen to Dan’s truths and a lie. I guess incorrectly and suffer once, passing on an opportunity to guess again and get Dan to drink.
“Your turn, Ry,” Dan says and leaning into Holly he adds on a loud whisper, “He’s done all these crazy things over the years, just stick with the least craziest thing he says. That’s the lie.”
Jesse drops his head, but he’s hiding the large smile.
Astra’s knee bumps mine as she twists in the settee, her leg drawing up on the chair. I can feel her eyes studying me. I concentrate on picking my statements, not about to ruin everyone else’s good time.
I scratch my jaw. “Okay, how about: I’m a certified paragliding coach. My great-great-great-great, that’s four generations, grandfather was one of Paul Revere’s confidantes.”
“Who’s Paul Revere?” Dan blurts and Jesse says, “U.S. history remedial.”
“And I’ve only had sex with five women.” I hope my voice didn’t crack at the end. I can’t figure Astra’s mood, made all the harder without seeing her.
Dan hoots. “Now we’re talking! Only five though.” He turns to Holly with a gleam. “That’s the lie. That has to be the lie. Wait, does that include one-nighters?”
“That’s what I said.” I repeat, a bit more solemn given the atmosphere of the situation.
It’s just a game. You’re not doing anything wrong. Have fun, relax, it’s going to be all right. But the pep-talk does nothing to calm my wired nerves.
“Why does it have to be a lie?” Jesse asks, his sitting up from his slouch, looking a little livelier. Holly is really brooding over it, her brow is scrunched up and it’s the first sign of her age.
“Because that’s just...unnatural. What is your dick for, man? Are you starving it or something?” Jesse and I are used to Dan’s lack of filter. Holly and Astra are a little taken by the language.
Sensing the mood shift, Dan apologizes but picks up the tirade. “Seriously though, five women? When was the last time you had sex then?”
“If he answers that then there’s no point of the game,” Jesse points out.
“You could always Google it.” Dan whispers loudly again.
I raise a hand at the same time Jesse says, “Cheaters should be made to drink.”
“What is this, a dictatorship?” Dan winks and waves to restart the game.
Holly claps a hand over her knee and nods. “I’m going to say the lie is the five women. As sweet as it is, it seems...implausible. Sorry, Ryker, you’re too hot to have only five lucky girls drool all over you.”
She squeezes her eyes shut then, wincing, “Let me have it then – am I right or wrong?”
The whole room waits on bated breath when only Astra should, if she cares. I can’t risk looking her way with both Jesse and Dan burrowing holes in me with their anticipation.
I put Holly out of her misery. “You’re wrong.”
Dan makes a failing buzzer noise and Holly tips her glass over the obnoxious ‘wah-wah-wah’.
“Five women!”
Dan’s exclamation tightens my smile, but I repeat, “Five women.”
Raising his glass, Dan bobs his head. “I’ll drink to that anyways.” And he does, wiping his mouth with a loud sigh and earning Holly’s appreciation I bet.
Astra’s friend smiles with the bitter touches of the vodka. “You know what? I hate this stuff,” she’s wiggling her empty glass, “but I’m glad to hear that. You’re a million to one, Ryker.”
“One in a million, you mean,” Jesse leans forward, his glass clenched in both hands. “Maybe we should call it a time-out.”
“Is she drunk already?” Dan waves his hand in front of her face. Holly grabs it and twists, making him beg for release. Jesse and I share a laugh as our mouthy third man shakes his hand of the remnants of Holly’s tight grip.
“I’m not drunk. Yet.” She’s vehement. Eyes glazed and her brow scrunched as she continues, “Oh right, as I was saying, you’re a great guy, Ryker. Really great, and one day you’re going to make one special girl super happy.”
I totally disagree. My picky sex life hardly encompasses other areas of my life. Drunk or not, Holly is putting me on the spot.
“Are you dating anyone right now?” Holly innocently asks, her smile unwavering.
“No.” I’m curt. I do return her smile, but it’s fleeting. I make a grab for a cracker that is further away from me and under the cover find Astra.
Looking someplace over my head, she’s smiling though it’s not reaching her eyes. Damn. I can’t make out a single emotion this way. My neck is starting to cramp. I have to sit back, make it seem inconspicuous with our guests.
“Jesse’s in the lead with two points, me and the Ry-Man are tie. Is that right, referee?”
“Yeah,” Astra drifts back, stammering. She’s uncomfortable, shifting more and more as round two of the game begins. I wedge our fingers between us and stroke her thigh. I absorb her jolt and meet her sharp gaze.
I’m worrying I pushed a little too far by mentioning four other previous lovers, and Holly’s question about my relationship status likely didn’t help. For number five, Astra’s by far the best and the only one who’s proving to be harder to shake off the more we hop in bed.
And that’s the problem.
I can’t – won’t entertain the idea of a long-term relationship.
I wanted her to know where we stood. I thought I might have not been clear, but she couldn’t possibly be expecting more from me. I’m a professional musician, for fuck’s sake.
Probably figuring what I want, Astra whispers, “I’m fine.” She moves her leg away, giving me a wider berth, going as far as the couch will let her.
I clench my jaw and tune into Jesse’s third win against Dan.
We play for three more rounds, and Jesse closes out with no losses and that works out as he’s the responsible driver for Dan and Holly.
“We picked her up on the way over,” Jesse explains, nudging his head at a laughing Dan and Holly wrapped around each other inside the back of the rental four-door. “I’ll drop her off and see this guy gets home safe, too. Want a ride?”
“Nah, I’m good.” I take in the dark skies and streets. Evening is giving way to night qu
ickly.
Gripping his car key, Jesse frowns. “Are you two…?” he lets the question hang between us. I grip his shoulder and squeeze.
“Cliché bastard that I am, let’s leave it at ‘it’s a long story’.” I squeeze little harder and drop my hand. “We’ll talk later.”
I step in from the white, icy world and nearly run in Astra. She’s got her hat and scarf on, struggling to get her arms into her coat, flipping her red hair over the collar.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going to drive you to the B&B.”
I’m a little shocked. And hurt. And maybe just a little annoyed.
“Fine,” I cup my jaw, trying to get a grasp on the right words. Did the right words for something like this exist? “We need to talk though.”
“Sure,” she sounds blasé, closing up and leading me to her car.
“I’ll come back for mine tomorrow.” I say, gesturing to the SUV parked on her curb.
“Sure.” No guy gets to be thirty-eight and not now when a girl’s icing him out. I’m getting the cold shoulder and hell if it doesn’t bother me.
Astra’s focus is on the road. The radio’s off and we’re not talking, and the silence is suffocating. Just as I’m planning to break it for fear of going crazy, I spy a familiar red ribbon on the widely spaced street lamps.
We’re at the border of Main Street, and only a few lights from the inn where I should let Astra drive me without a detour, but I’m already asking her to pull over.
“Stop,” I don’t look to her to see if she’s listening. The car is slowing and she stops, in the middle of the street. Astra doesn’t turn the engine off. She does pull to park.
I exit the car, leaning back in to invite her out. “I want to show you something.”
Astra draws her seatbelt off and pulls her key from the ignition. Her eyes are lit by intrigue even if it’s frustration that tightens her voice. “What is it, Ryker?”
She’s on the sidewalk with me. I reach out and thrill at the touch of her arm, drawing her into me before she comes down from her surprise. I wrap a thick strand of burnished red around my finger, kissing her hair and meeting her eyes.
“I used to live near here,” I murmur, swept into the luminosity of her brown irises. “But that’s an understatement. I grew up on this street, before I moved away to college.”
I have her attention now. It’s easier to lead her to number seventy-three. “That’s it. Home sweet home.”
Astra’s silent. I’d be, too. I can’t blame her; first I’m airing out my dirty sex laundry, and then I’m giving her a bit of the past, a piece of me I haven’t parted with…ever.
“My family’s not in there.” I scratch my head at the obvious. Astra is being patient. I suddenly understand how she’s able to manage counselling the new generation of brats at St. B&J.
“For as long as I can remember it was my mom, me, my little brother and sister – my father was never in the picture for too long, and just before my sister was born he split for good.”
Astra’s hand brings my gaze down to her touch over my arm. I lift my hand hesitantly, grasping hers, waiting for the rejection that never comes.
“Even with him out of our lives, my mom wasn’t exactly caregiver material.” I swallow hard. “We practically raised ourselves – well, I did, and then I got out when my brother and sister were still pretty young.”
“Ryker,” my name falls off her lips and I finally look up, and she settles her free hand over my cheek. Her thumb caresses me, pressing me to continue.
“I hated her. I hated them. My idea of family is looking over your shoulder, waiting for the other shoe to fall,” my short laugh is sardonic, bitter – it tastes like bile too. “It’s pretty messed up.”
“There are clearly a lot of elements at play.” Astra speaking softly, she smiles, possibly for my benefit.
“She didn’t abuse me. The emotional neglect might as well have been blows. Sometimes it felt like we were four people forced together. I don’t ever want to feel like that again, as if someone else has to share their life with me, you know.” I shrug off the prickling fear, blinking past the darkening vision, my palms growing slick.
I can’t have a panic attack here. Not in front of her again.
Dropping my hand from hers, I step away and she takes the hint, cutting her connection with me.
It’s the last thing I want, but I’m starting to figure what I want doesn’t equal what’s good for me in the long run.
I left out the best part, too, of how my mom spent years doing whatever she wanted as soon as Dad packed and hit the road. Never giving a thought to how it could hurt us; inviting a man like Custodio into our lives and treating him like a Godsend and not the Joe Blow he was. Trading sex for a private, all-expense paid run through St. B&J for her kids, the rest of her mortgage and whatever else she fancied to be his mistress.
I’ve been promising myself I’d never be like that: Needing and breathing someone else. The affair destroyed her for me and shaped my life, made me the man I am, a guy who’d rather let someone as kind and sweet and beautiful as Astra out of my life at the right time.
Whenever that time would be…
“We used to play here,” I point up at a nearby lamp post. “Racing from here to Main Street with my brother and sister,” I’d learned to appreciate them a bit more after St. B&J – making friends at that school was fucking atrocious, and I found every excuse in the book to avoid party invites and afterschool hang outs.”
I wouldn’t fit in. Maybe now I’ve reinvented as the rock star, but not then.
“Where are they now?” Astra asks, she’s been a patient listener thus far and I still have a bit to say.
“My mom’s living with my younger sister now. She’s a grandmother to my two nieces and nephew.” My lifts tilt up, “I’d say she’s happier. She certainly looks happy in the pictures.”
“You haven’t seen her yourself?”
I shake my head, a sigh not too far along. “Truthfully, I’m scared. I can’t really forgive her for the past.”
We’re walking back to her car, my little tour over and done with. It wasn’t the talk I had in mind, but I’m feeling lighter. From what? Talking to Astra? That can’t be right.
Whatever it is, I can’t deny the feeling post-chat. It’s inexplicable, strange and wonderful…I think.
Which is why I’m apologizing, closing the distance and seeking out her touch again. I’m ready for it this time, panic-attack free. “I shouldn’t have put you on the spot back there in the game.”
“No one knew,” she whispers, and now she’s trying to get out of my tightening hold. “Ryker, please… I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Astra, please,” I echo, swallowing past the lump larger than my Adam’s apple. “I am sorry. You’re without a doubt the most special person who’s considered my crass ass ever. I care about you.” My voice cracks and Astra sucks in a deep breathe, leaning in, no longer struggling with me to free herself and she’s kissing me.
I moan at the simplest brush of her lips, and finally react by wrapping my arms around her when she leans into me, deepening the kiss. Her teeth drag into my lower lip and she retreats for a breath before descending again.
It’s like the last time only it takes us that much longer to detangle ourselves and for Astra to whirl the car around and bring us back to hers.
To home.
9
Two nights later, and it still feels like home.
Astra is in my arms, lounging after sex, and I’m busy kissing every part of her body exposed to me. She shrugs, giggling when I trace a pattern with the tip of my tongue between her shoulder blades.
“That tickles,” she says, breathy from orgasm. She was screaming my name.
My voice doesn’t fare better, hoarse from my share of groaning and grunting, straining towards sweet release inside her.
“I’m sorry.” I kiss the tip of her ear after tucking her beautiful red hai
r out of the way. I slant my lips over her throat and she moans, tilting further back into the pillow and offering me more access to her. “Does it tickle still?”
“No,” she breathes a sigh, content. It fastens a grip around my heart, squeezing until I’m pretty breathless myself.
“Good.” I find her clit from the back, my wrists resting between her ass cheeks, pointer drenched in her heat all over again. At her long drawn breath, I whisper, “It’s not supposed to.”
I stroke her clenching walls with one, then two fingers. When I add the third, Astra’s grinding back against my hand, panting for the orgasm I’m denying her. I slow my strokes and then pick back up when her release abates. Slowing, quickening, slowing and quickening.