I’ll tell the truth, they might have been right about my need for companionship. I don’t do well on my own. I’m always busy, always finding a new thing to occupy my time and my mind.
“Raa-chel.” Sarah sang as she flung herself into my bed after bursting through my bedroom door, seemingly randomly. She throws herself around so much that if she were not twig thin and shorter than any grown woman ought to be, she would destroy everything around her.
“Yes, Sarah?” I questioned as I looked up. I was making a list of places we have to go and trying to rearrange them in order of when-
Why is Australia on that list?!
I didn’t want to go to Australia.
Australia is where-
Australia is now off the list and I am not thinking about it anymore.
Quickly deleting it as I listened to Sarah babble, about something or other. Can anyone believe it? It has been a year, and still, that awful woman whose every word to me was naught but a fib made to ensnare my senses still plagues my every thought.
And I’m still thinking in poetry. Greeat.
“What do you think?” She questioned me, looking expectantly at me.
“About what?” I was lost. It occurs to me that I have gotten into a bad habit of doing this a lot.
“Come back to California with us. And then we can start on the world tour!” She declared.
I stiffened, before forcing myself to relax. Zoey most likely won’t be there. Miranda hired her. She wasn’t even… real.
I nodded tersely. "Okay, let me pack," I told her as I tried to ignore the voice in the back of my head. Telling me that I was being unreasonable. Maybe, Zoey actually loved me? It is entirely possible. Sarah says I am more lovable than “the world’s fluffiest kitten”.
Joanne was staring at me as she thought. “I just have one question for you,” Her voice was like a whisper, but that may have just been my imagination. “When you take away all your gadgets, all your shows, all your math… when you spend time by yourself, and yourself alone… do you truly like the company you are keeping? Are you distracting yourself from the world… or from yourself?”
The question was harsh, and it froze me in my tracks. The look on Joanne's face, though, that shattered my heart in a way that neither Zoey nor Miranda could get to. The concern and hurt of a friend who knew that someone she cared about wasn’t making the best choices for herself.
“No,” I whispered, hands shaking. My eyes blurred with tears that I refused to let fall. The word fell from my lips with a choked noise, a pained taboo. I didn’t love the person I was, and I don’t know how to change that. So, I distract myself. Maybe that’s what all of this was, one huge distraction. Miranda… Zoey… romance.
“Focus on that, then. Not your love life, not your future…” She looked at me, and I felt naked for once. As if she could see into my bare soul. “You need to fix your perception of yourself. Because you are much more than you give yourself credit for.”
My heart swelled, and I felt more care for my friend than I even knew what to do with. She knew exactly what to say to make me feel like the whole world is on my side.
I threw my arms around her, burying my face in her shoulder as I began to sob.
She shushed me. Trying to calm me down.
Less than a week later, we were off to California once again. This time, with a new mission on my mind.
I will find myself. The person I am beneath everything I use to distance myself from her and figure out who I want to be. Figure out how to like her.
That was probably why it took so long for me to first see her. Because I didn’t go to the bar. I walked along the beach and watched the sunset. I finally understand the romanticism of moments like this.
I feel at peace, and I could heal finally. I don’t think that I really ever loved Zoey. I loved the idea of Zoey. Her freedom and peace with who she is. Her calm, cool disposition.
Of course, I was proven wrong the second my brown eyes met a pair of mismatched, shining eyes on the coast of the beach. She was offering surfboard courses.
Abruptly, I came to multiple realizations. They didn’t happen simultaneously, but the few seconds between each one felt like an eternity and no time all at once.
So Miranda wasn’t lying. Neither was Zoey. Zoey is a native.
What else was Zoey telling the truth about? I spent a year assuming everything was a lie. But what was the truth?
I shoulda seen this coming. Why would I have assumed that the ‘Would you like to learn how to surf?’ was her form of getting me on a date? Obviously, she asks everyone.
Absence does make the heart grow fonder.
I was lying to myself when I said I didn’t love her.
My final abrupt realization was that she was walking over to me. And so I did the only sensible thing a girl in my position could do. I high-tailed it the other direction in order to escape this madness.
I might have gone crazy had I listened when she started talking.
Her lips formed my name. It was a pained whimper. Her voice breathlessly begging. ‘Please,’ the tone seemed to cry, ‘Listen to me. I need to speak to you…’
“No.” It was harsher than I intended, motivated by my need to leave.
"You seem spooked. Did you see another scary bug?!" Sarah yelled when she saw me push the door open too hard it banged into the wall, throwing myself onto the couch, and covering myself with the blankets.
“Bugs are the thing you are scared of.” Drawled Joanne. "Rachel is much more sensible than that."
For a second there, I thought Joanne might actually be on my side. I was, of course, proven wrong by the smirk that slowly crawled its way onto her face.
“Rachel is only afraid of her own feelings!” Joanne purred, always ready for some good romance and gossip about someone else’s love life. Joanne is sometimes, just the worst person I know. She knows it too. That’s the worst part. “So, what did she sa-ay?”
“She said nothing.” I tersely replied, my teeth grinding as my fists clenched on the blanket. “These blankets are too soft, Sarah. I hate them!”
"There is no such thing as too soft," Sarah replied, her hand on her hip and her nose in the air. Let me tell you, it is really weird when a 4”8 little sugar-n-spice girl, wearing a shirt covered in glitter, looks down her nose at you. “And the only thing you’re really mad at right now is yourself. Don’t knock my perfectly stupendous décor.”
Joanne’s lips curled up in an amused smirk. She just loved her tiny girlfriend so much. I wish someone loved me that much.
“Just talk to her.” Joanne tried to convince me. Sometimes, she forgot that I cannot be reasoned with. “You can’t be mad at her forever.”
“Watch me!” I shouted, digging my heel into the ground, like a petulant child.
Joanne sighed. “It’s not gonna work.” She called out to me.
I could practically hear her rolling her eyes to the ceiling. “I have purple hair, and still I’m the most sensible person I know.”
I responded like any rational adult woman would.
I stomped into my room and slammed the door shut… more like a petulant teenager this time.
Chapter 10
Have I ever said how much I hate when Joanne is right? Because I really do. Every single time she is right I only get angrier and angrier.
Especially because it is all the time.
Can’t she be wrong just this once?
After multiple attempts by my friends to get me to talk to her, all it took to stop me in my tracks was a mere glance at her sad eyes.
She called out to me and when I stopped and looked backward, I was done for. I don't think any human being can say no to those pools of regret and sadness. She shouldn't look like that. She should be what she was when we first met, a beacon of hope and light and beauty.
“What do you want?” The reply may have been a touch biting, but I can’t just let her back into my life.
She had lied and stolen my he
art, all for a stupid job. We shared our hopes and dreams and how we felt about the future and the past. To learn it was all a lie cut me deep.
I was just barely getting better from all of that. She couldn’t just spring this on me in the last second. It would destroy me.
She looked hurt and she seemed to gulp. “I… I just want to talk.” She sounded pitiful. “Explain a few things to you.”
I didn’t want to listen. I wanted to scream and rage and tell her how she was wrong and everything was so messed up. Tell her that I discovered who I am, and you know what? Does she want the truth? The truth is she probably wouldn’t even care about me if she actually found out.
I didn’t say any of that, though.
I wouldn’t be able to breathe if she knew.
I… I still wanted her to like me?
Not even I can understand it.
“I know what I did was wrong.” She began, seeming like a tired adult – the way most of my work colleagues were – and looking at me with her sorrowful eyes that showed a world of hurt that only I could alleviate.
Can I alleviate her pain when I can’t even fix my own?
“Miranda, I met her through this app.” She sighed. “She was willing to give me enough money for like, six months rent if I attempted to seduce this girl for her. And then reported what we did.”
I winced. It still cut me so deep that she could do something like that to me. Believe I would do something so awful. (I almost did, but that is beside the point. The circumstances were extenuating, I tell you!)
“But then, then I met you.” She whispered, smiling at me awkwardly. “I met you and you were beautiful and sweet and intelligent. Your soul is so fascinating and your mind is… so… so … different than mine!” She seemed so confused on what she meant to say like her tongue was lead when she spoke to me.
Maybe she didn’t get why she cared so much about me either. I mean, it might be I just don’t see what she sees. But the scent of her hair reminds me of Christmas, and her skin is soft, yet strong all at once. Like a marble statue covered in pillows.
She held no responsibility, and simultaneously, the entire world in her capable hands.
“I really like you.” She told me, looking as if she was gonna cry. “I started… I started to hope that you weren’t as loyal as Miranda hoped you were. I started to think that maybe you liked me back… how dumb am I?”
She was actually, genuinely crying. Her eyes were glistening with tears, and two stray droplets made their way down her cheeks.
I reached up to wipe the marks off her cheeks. I shushed her. “Shh. Come on, don’t cry.”
“It’s okay.” She pulled away from me, trying to maintain her composure as she roughly wiped the marks from her cheeks. “That day. That day I wanted you to make, to make the wrong decision. The decision in which, you and I could be together. In which you gave up on your fiancée.”
She held herself and choked in a breath. "It was a rotten thing to wish for. And I would prefer you to be happy without me than to be miserable with me. I wasn’t even gonna look you up. But, Joanne told me you and Miranda were no more and…”
She trailed off, looking at me hopefully.
“I…” I had the chance to get exactly what I wanted, the question was, am I brave enough to take it?
I thought for a moment, about our future together. If we were together or not.
If we weren’t, Sarah would keep tabs on her. She’d marry someone as perfect as her that I could never measure up to. I'd be married to someone I don't love and I'd watch Zoey be happy, and feel the green-eyed monster clawing at my insides. Every second of the happy couple being together, like a dagger in my twist, that keeps twisting.
Seeing her so happy, would be like ripping off the band-aid in which I thought I got over her. I would be exposed to the festering wound, which is my broken heart.
If we were together, though. I could imagine a few things, financial ruin, or getting stranded on a desert island. I cannot, however, imagine hatred or loneliness. I can't even consider us not being happy when we are together. And that is the whole point.
I took a deep, steadying breath as I made my decision.
“Hi,” I held out my hand to Zoey, giving her a toothy grin. “My name is Rachel. I’m an actuary who wants to see the world. My favorite food is barbecue ribs and I’ve recently discovered, I really like walking on the beach.”
She laughed. The sound was whimsical and so clear. Like a wave washed away all the pain and the hurt the two of us had been feeling.
“H-Hi, Rachel. I’m Zoey.” She was nervous and stuttering as she held my hand and shook. She took a deep breath and then, much more calmly, continued. “I want to surf all over the world, and I don’t really understand math or science very much, I don’t even like reading that much. But I would really like to check you out.” The exaggerated wink really sold it.
Oh, I just love this girl.
She’ll be the death of me.
And I’ll enjoy every single moment of it.
Epilogue
Staring into her brown eyes is a rush every time it occurs. I feel like I don’t deserve her. I mean, I clearly don’t. I manipulated her when we first met.
It’s been a year since we decided to start over. She has agreed to marry me.
Well… it happened more embarrassingly than that.
We were having… a little fun… for the umpteenth time. I don’t know how often we have sex and I don’t care. Every time is like the first time, anyway.
It started just like usual. We were watching some stupid game show on the television. Rachel was telling me all the answers she would give. They were all better than the answers I would give, even though the better part of them were incorrect answers.
Her brain may have been the most attractive part about her. You know, if I didn't know anything else about her. Because every single part of her was incredible-
Off topic. Sorry. I could just talk about her for six years straight if someone were to ask me about her.
It was at times like these when I sorta wished I was a poet. She deserved better than me. Someone who could go on and on about how without her, the stars would dim. How the sun wept when it realized how impossible reaching to her radiance was. How she didn't look like a girl on a magazine, true, but images couldn't print your essence. And when it comes to the essence, anything else is nothing more than a false equivalency.
I'm no good at poetry, though. And if I tried to say anything like that, it would just prove how much I didn't actually get romance. How much I didn't get her – no matter how much I wanted to. No matter how much it kills me inside that it feels like I just can't get her.
She was completely distracted by the TV, and I couldn’t keep my hands to myself. Nobody would be able to, I reassured myself, ‘She is too perfect for anyone to be rational around her’.
I began pressing wet kisses to her neck. As she shivered, I smirked against her neck and kissed and sucked more harshly at the tender skin. She “tried” to push me away – the attempt so weak I don’t know if it actually counts as trying - attempting to use the excuse that she was busy with the show.
She didn’t mean it, so I said the words that would make her most annoyed. "Okay, I'll stop," I replied as I pulled away from her. Honestly, I really did love teasing her this way. The way her lips curled down in a childish pout every time I did this, was really what I did it for.
It was an irresistible look that I was too glad was only ever pointed at me.
“Don’t tease me.” Her almost animalistic growl may have been the single sexiest sound that has ever come out of any creature’s mouth.
“But, love,” I continued on my ruse of innocence. This little game never got boring. Probably because we both always ended up winning eventually. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”
She snarled at my reaction before she simply grabbed me by my shirt and pressed her lips to mine in a searing kiss. When she got like this,
she was rarely gentle. (I was almost always the gentle one, but it may be because I am also the one who is constantly teasing her.) It seems my spicy little angel had enough of my teasing and was now demanding my seriousness. As much as I love her, she should know that that's never gonna happen.
Teasing her is just too much fun to stop.
She seemed to realize this, and with a soft grunt, pushed me down on the couch. She kissed me harshly, her lips pressing to mine in a way that seemed to burn me up, both inside and out. Fireworks exploded behind my eyelids and my stomach twisted as my core throbbed. It was like wherever her lips touched created nerve endings that went straight to my pussy, causing it to throb and clench as I whined.
I am all about passion and fun, but Rachel takes both of those to a whole new level to the point where I can’t even breathe in her presence.
Then again, how could anyone so much as breathe normally in the presence of such pristine beauty?
As she removed my clothes, my mind clouded and the dirty words whispered in my ear made me babble and mumble everything I attempted to say.
She told me that today might be another day to try the vibrator again. She told me I was the sexiest thing her eyes ever rested on. I wanted to tell her that that was clearly a lie. She saw herself in the mirror all the time.
I tried to say it, but the words couldn’t come out right. To be fair, you can’t seriously expect any girl – no matter how chill she usually is – to seriously be thinking straight when the love of their life was doing things like that to her incredibly sensitive body. Her lips made their way all over my flesh and every sensitive spot of me.
She knew me too well. She knew every single sensitive area I had, and just loved to exploit each and every one of them.
I was powerless to stop her, and, to be frank… I don’t really think I even wanted to.
Truth be told, I had been imagining it before. Me and her. We wouldn’t have a white picket fence and 2.5 kids. But we would be happy. I would be able to call her my wife and we would travel the world together. There was to be no downside.
I didn't, however, expect my proposal to come out in inane babble as she slowly worked her fingers into my soaking pussy. "Please… Marry me…" I barely even heard myself say it. "I want you to be mine forever. The whole deal. A big wedding, all our friends. I want to tell the world we belong to each other.
Steamy Dorm Page 87