We're only a ten-minute walk from the apartment, but it feels like it's a million miles away.
I feel her hands on my skin, under my T-shirt. "Ally," I groan. "We're in a public park."
"I know," she says, and she kisses me harder.
When we break, she's flushed. Panting. "Damn. That's what I get for trying to torture you."
"Trust me. It's torture," I say.
"Revenge is so sweet. Even when it hurts." She takes my hand. "Do you want to go back to the apartment now?"
"No. Let's finish all the errands first. So we don't have to leave."
Her lips curl into a smile and she nods.
We rush through a host of errands--the drugstore, K-mart, lunch, another cup of coffee--and end up at Whole Foods. I fill her cart with fruits and vegetables, but she shoots me a mind your own damn business look and removes everything I loaded.
"You don't want apples?" I ask.
"I do."
"Then why put them back?"
"Just let me do it, okay?" She stares at the apples, really examining them. Finally, she packs a dozen into a plastic bag and places them in the cart. She slips into the rhythm of shopping, picking up bits and pieces here and there.
I bite my tongue a dozen times to avoid offering suggestions. She's always painfully distant about recovery, and she mostly refuses to discuss anything related to food.
"You're hovering," she says.
"I'm not hovering. I'm just here."
"But you look so concerned."
"Am I not allowed to be concerned?" I ask.
"You're the one who convinced me to do this."
"I know."
"You begged me to take the role and go to New York on my own." She loads the cart with almond milk, of course.
"I'm concerned. That's it."
"I'm not a vase that's going to break," she says.
"It's okay if you're scared of being on your own. I'm scared too."
"What are you scared about?"
"I hate being without you."
She turns away, her fingers digging into the cart. "This was your idea."
"You're happy, aren't you?" I ask.
"Yeah, but..." She lowers her voice, until it's barely a whisper. "What if I can't handle being here alone? What if it's too much, too soon? There's a street cart on every corner. A trigger food on every corner. This is going to be stressful. I'm going to be tempted."
"So you'll call me."
"Yeah..."
"You will call me," I say.
"I will do what I want to do. If I want to call you, I'll call you."
"Ally, please. Don't do this. I'm going to miss you too. I'm going to be lonely and stressed without you too."
"That's not the same."
"You've been in recovery for almost two years."
"Yeah," she says. "Technically."
"And it's been almost a year since you've purged, right?"
"Wow. You said purge without cringing. That's serious progress."
"Ally--"
"Okay, you're right," she says. "I have been doing well with recovery. I'm just... I'm scared. You can reassure me all you want, but I'm still going to be scared."
"Okay."
I rub her shoulders and she leans into me. "I'm terrified," she says.
"Okay."
"I can barely shop for groceries by myself. How am I supposed to survive six months alone?"
I slide my arms around her and whisper in her ear. "I don't know, but I know you can do it. You're the strongest person I know."
She pulls away. "Maybe."
"Ally."
"Let's finish this and go back to the apartment, okay? It was a long trip and we're both tired."
I bite my tongue. She's tired. This isn't the first step to everything falling apart.
***
This is supposed to be the city that never sleeps, a place brimming with life. But on a Saturday afternoon, the financial district is dead quiet. And it's mocking me.
Alyssa is on the defensive, and she shows no signs of letting down those walls. I rack my brain for subtle ways to nudge her out of hiding, but I've got nothing. She's in a new place. She's overwhelmed and underslept. It's fair that she's upset.
I wait until we're back in the apartment to broach the subject. "Ally, I'm sorry," I say.
"Can we not talk for a little while?"
I nod. We can talk later. We're both exhausted. "Okay."
"I'm not going to break up with you or anything. I just need a little space."
"Not space again."
"Space is the wrong word. I need a little time to not think about anything."
I nod. "Can I say one thing?"
"Can I stop you?"
"I love you. And I promise I'm not trying to get rid of you."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. If I could, I'd stay in New York for every minute that you're here."
She smiles and kisses me on the cheek. "I love you too." She steps into the shower, shutting the door behind her.
I hate this. I really want to respect Alyssa's wishes, to give her time to think when she needs it, but I fucking hate it. Why did I convince her to take the part? I could have been selfish. I could have asked her to stay with me, then felt guilty every day I failed get home by six. I could have stayed up half the night worrying she would resent me.
I will respect Alyssa's wishes. I won't try and make her talk.
But, if she really wants to clear her head, there's a much better way to do it.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Alyssa
Can I do this?
Can I really fucking do this?
The hot water pounding on my back does nothing to relax me. I try and take a deep breath, but it feels rough and shallow.
I need to be stopped. I'm acting like a child, pushing my boyfriend away because I'm scared.
He's trying to help. It's not his fault I'm so incapable of expressing my feelings.
I'm terrified to do this alone. I'm terrified to be without you for six days. And you want me to do six months? I can't do it. It's inconceivable. You're my life raft, the only thing that keeps me from drowning. I can't do this without you. I can barely function without you.
I hate it, but I can barely function without you.
Don't leave. Stay. Say fuck the business and stay. Or ask me to change my mind. Ask me to stay with you in Los Angeles. Please. Don't leave me here in New York alone. Don't make me try and do this alone.
I should have put my foot down. I should have made no my final answer. Yes, I want to be in this play. And it's a great opportunity. It might be one of the best things I'll ever do.
But it's still too hard to do it without him.
I lean my head back, letting the water soak my hair. It's just the shower. Just a little pouring water. But what if the water never stops? What if this bathroom fills and I can't get out and I drown here?
I shake my head. This is ridiculous. I need to calm down. This is a lot all at once, but I can do it. I can enjoy the next twenty-four hours.
Twenty-four hours with Luke, twenty-four hours until he's gone, and I'm here all by myself.
I repeat my mantra, a cheesy new age therapy technique. I will keep my head up and my heart open. I whisper it three times, taking a deep breath between each. It's silly, but I feel a little calmer.
Maybe I can do this.
I close my eyes and listen to the water pounding my neck. It's warm and hard and steady. I will keep my head up and my heart open.
I will talk to Luke.
I won't lock him out.
But not now, not yet, not until I have a handle on this.
When I open my eyes, I'm overwhelmed by the light in the room. Deep breath. Ground yourself. I am Alyssa Summers. I am in New York City, my home for the next six months.
I can do this.
Whatever this is.
The door creaks open but I don't turn towards it.
"I'm not ready to talk yet," I say.
/>
"I'm not interested in talking." Luke's voice is serious, low and deep.
I bite my lip. He wants to not talk with me. God, I hope he means what I think he means.
"You know, Ally," he says. "I almost can't decide if I want to step in the shower with you or if I want to enjoy the view."
"There's a better view in here."
"So there is," he says.
My heart pounds against my chest. When did it get so damn hot in here?
He opens the shower door, the steam escaping into the rest of the bathroom. Damn, he looks so fucking sexy. His hair is messy and his skin glistens with a faint layer of sweat. Sometimes I forget how irresistible he is. Every part of him is perfect--his round, sculpted shoulders, his strong chest, his perfectly chiseled abs.
My breath gets heavy. I need this. I need this so fucking badly.
And then he slides his boxers to the floor. Jesus. He's hard already.
He steps inside the shower, shutting the glass door behind him. Fuck, he's so close and I want so badly for him to touch me.
His expression is intense. His eyes are wide, his pupils dilated...
"Please don't tell me you're only here for the view."
He grabs my hips and presses me against the tile wall. His grip gets tighter, rough and gentle all at once. He moves closer, his body pressing against mine. Jesus. His skin on mine is pure electricity, and my body buzzes with need.
He pushes me hard against the tile and brings his lips to mine. His kiss is possessive, his lips sucking on mine. I reach for him, clawing at his back, sighing into him.
"Fuck me," I groan.
He doesn't say anything, but he brings his lips to my ears. I press my fingers into his back. Then I feel his lips on my ears. He sucks on my earlobe, softly at first. Then harder, his teeth scraping against it. He starts to move his hands. Over my hips and stomach. And then they're on my chest.
The sensation is so different than usual, so much hotter and wetter. His teeth scrape against my ear. Pangs of desire shoot through me, straight to my core. He brings his hand to my breasts. Fuck.
"Luke," I moan, arching my body into his until I can feel his cock against me. I grab his ass, pulling his body towards mine. But he grabs my hips and pushes me hard against the tile.
"Not yet," he whispers in my ear. He takes a long look at me, his eyes filling with delight. "You're too fucking sexy, Ally."
He cups my breasts, his expression getting more and more intense. I'm desperate with want, almost shaking. I kiss him, hard, my tongue plunging into his mouth. He responds with the same ferocity, kissing me hard, sliding his fingers over my nipples. I groan, and he responds with a harder touch. Every stroke of his finger sends another pang of desire through me. My sex clenches. "Luke..." I moan. "Please. Fuck me."
"Soon," he says, and he presses his lips against my neck. Then my collarbone.
Almost. Please...
Then he brings his mouth to my nipple. At first he only brushes it with his lips. It's so light and delicate, I can barely stand it. I dig my hands into his hair, and he does it again.
"Don't stop," I groan.
He slides his tongue over my nipple, his hands sliding between my thighs. I start to shake. I'm pooling with need. I need him inside me. I need him to fuck me.
But he doesn't stop. He lavishes my breasts with attention, rubbing his wet thumbs against one nipple while he sucks on the other. I feel pangs of want in my sex, a building tension. I could almost swear I'm going to come from this, that he's going to suck me to an orgasm.
"Luke," I groan.
He responds by sliding his tongue over my chest, tracing the outline of my nipple. He flicks his tongue against me, soft then hard. Then harder and harder, until it almost hurts.
He strokes my inner thighs, so, so fucking close.
Then, finally, he stands and kisses me. It's so much harder than before, so much more intense. He reaches for the showerhead. Fuck. It's detachable.
He moves closer to me, presses his lips to mine again. Then it's his entire body, hard against mine. I wrap my arms around him, kissing him harder and deeper.
"Turn around," he says. "Hands on the wall." He plants a soft kiss on my neck. "Can you stand?"
I nod.
"Not now, Ally. Will you be able to stand when you're coming so hard you're shaking?"
"Hold me."
He moves behind me and places a hand firmly on my hip. I lean into him, pressing my back against his chest, my ass against his cock. I close my eyes, quivering with anticipation.
I feel the water streaming onto my stomach. "Tell me if it's too much." He kisses my neck again. "Too hot or too cold." He slides his hand around my hip, resting it just below my belly button. "Or if it feels so fucking good you can't take it anymore."
No way in hell.
I groan, arching my body into his. He brings the showerhead to my shoulders and works his way down. It streams over my chest, the lightest pressure. He slides his free hand over my nipples as he moves the showerhead across my chest. I close my eyes, leaning into him to inhale the sensation. It's so warm and soft, somehow touching me everywhere all at once.
He brings his lips back to my neck, sucking this time. His touch is so light, lighter than the water. A tidal wave of want surges through me.
He moves it down, slowly, along my stomach down to my inner thighs. Closer and closer...
And closer...
Jesus. My thighs buzz with pleasure. How the fuck can water do that?
I turn my head to meet his mouth and he kisses me deeply. His hand slides down my torso until it's inches away from my clit. He moves the water closer and closer, until it meets his hands.
And then it hits my clit.
My sex clenches, a dull ache. Luke moves his hands over me, spreading my lips apart. He moves the shower head up and down, over every inch of me.
I squirm, my hands digging into the hard tile wall. He does it again and again. It's a sweet, warm pressure like nothing I've ever felt before. It's everywhere, warming up every part of me.
I close my eyes and inhale the sensation. Luke brings his mouth to my ear, sucking hard on the lobe.
"Luke," I groan.
The water streams over me, so warm and soft. The pressure inside me grows, tighter and tighter.
I lean into him. His breath is heavy, strained. He moves the showerhead over me again and again and again. It's almost too good, too intense, too much to take.
"Fuck," I say. "Don't stop."
He does it again and again, moving faster. The water streams over me, hitting every nerve in my cunt. My body buzzes with pleasure and I get closer and closer and closer. One more time and the pressure is so much, so intense, so fucking good.
"Luke," I groan as an orgasm rushes over me. I press my hands into the wall, pushing my body against his. His cock presses against me. He's still hard.
"Fuck me," I say. "Fuck me now."
He brings his mouth to my ear, sucking hard on my earlobe. Then he slides inside me.
Jesus Christ.
He grabs my hips, thrusting into me slowly. "Mhmmm," he groans. "You feel so fucking good." He scrapes his teeth against my neck, his nails digging into my thighs.
"Fuck me," I say.
He thrusts into me again, deeper this time. I sigh in relief. It's so much sensation--the water from the showerhead against my clit, his cock filling me, his hands on my body.
I groan, arching to meet him as he moves harder and faster. I lose track of anything I thought five minutes ago. I'm only here, with him, our bodies joining. I arch my back, pushing against the wall to give him better leverage. He pushes deeper inside me, so deep it almost hurts. My sex clenches. Pleasure floods my body, radiating to my chest, my ass, my fingers and toes. Every part of me feels so fucking good, and every part is begging for his touch.
I lean back into Luke, my back rubbing against his hard chest. He's wet, slippery, and his body feels so good against mine. He nuzzles my neck, then ti
lts my head back, kissing me hard.
"Come for me," he says. "I want to hear it."
Breath leaves my body. I turn back, one hand against the wall, the other on the showerhead. I move it up and down, the water rubbing my clit, pushing me closer and closer to the edge. Luke runs his hands over my body, only his slick fingertips. Then he brings them to my breasts. He plays with my nipples, rubbing them with slow circles. He thrusts into me, harder and deeper, and I get closer and closer.
I close my eyes. Jesus. He kisses my neck again. Then it's teeth, a hard scrape. His touch gets harder, rougher. He thrusts into me again and again, and I fill with pleasure. Almost. Almost.
An orgasm washes over me. I groan, dropping the showerhead and grabbing his thigh. He kisses my neck, thrusting into me harder and faster. His breath gets heavier, harder, deeper.
He sinks his teeth into my neck and groans. He's almost there. I press my hands against the wall, arching into him.
He groans one more time and he comes, his cock pulsing inside me.
We stand like that for a moment. Then he turns me around and we kiss until we're both soaked to the bone.
***
The next twenty-four hours are bliss. We kiss. We touch. We fuck. We break for dinner, for drinks, for a few hours of sleep. When we're both too exhausted to move, we lie on the bed, our bodies tangled up in each other.
We don't talk. We don't listen to music. We don't watch TV. Instead, we listen to our breath and heartbeats.
I have no sense of time. No sense of tomorrow or yesterday or anything except Luke and me in this apartment. I don't even know how many times we have sex, how many times I come from his cock or his hands or his mouth.
It's perfect.
But it's only perfect for so long.
At six o'clock his phone rings with an alarm. We pull ourselves apart. "I'm sorry, Ally," he says and he kisses me. I push away any feelings of concern. I still have him a little longer. I want to savor every last minute that he's here.
I watch him get dressed. He's slow about it, putting on a show for me. He steps into his boxers, making a point of stretching his arms over his head. He smirks as I take in every inch of him, every perfect inch. "I appreciate your enthusiasm, but you don't need to put this image in your spank bank. I'm happy to send you pictures."
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