I just didn’t feel comfortable around alcohol anymore – especially with Dexter in the same room. Not because I worried he would relapse, I have complete faith in him – just because I liken it to eating a Big Mac in front of someone on a strict diet. I’ve no doubt it’s my issue and not Dexter’s. He works in a pub for crying out loud.
Also, it becomes kind of awkward when Rachel starts pressing him for an answer as to why he doesn’t drink – or as she usually puts it, why he’s such a ‘miserable sod’. I haven’t told anyone about Dexter’s problems. People judge – it’s human nature. And I don’t want anyone judging Dexter when he’s worked so damn hard to overcome his issues. Besides, even if it was anyone else’s business, it’s not my secret to tell.
Jared arrived within the hour carrying a crate of beer. As he lowered it onto the round pine table at the end of the kitchen I idly tried to remember the last time he arrived without one… I couldn’t.
“I’m no chef, but shouldn’t that be in the oven?” Jared said sarcastically as he nodded his head towards the naked turkey. Without hesitation Rachel grabbed the nearest tea-towel and launched it at him. “What the fuck?” he blasted, tugging at the hem of his pale-cream jumper. The tea-towel in question had previously been used to mop up the contents of a cracked egg from the floor. I’ll let you imagine the vast array of colourful words Rachel chose to use in that moment. “This is brand fucking new!” Taking another tea-towel from the countertop he started dabbing at the stain which was already setting in. “Is this egg? Does egg come out?”
“Was it expensive? The surgery I mean?” Rachel interrupted, causing confused expressions to appear on both my and Jared’s face. “Oh sorry. I just assumed you’d had a sex change. What with you acting like a giant fucking woman and all.” I chewed on my lip to stop myself from laughing and Jared gave Rachel his best evil glare. “Don’t know why you’re whining anyway. Just cry to Mummy and she’ll get you a new one.” I don’t know much about Jared’s parents – only that they’re loaded. It seems to be all everyone else knows about them too given the fact that Rachel and Dexter tease him relentlessly about it.
“Oh come on, guys! Forget your stupid squabbles and help me out here. There’s so much to do and it’s all going wrong,” I spat, feeling the threat of tears tickling the corners of my eyes. It was only a meal – I knew that. But it was a meal I’d had planned for weeks in my head and in my imagination everything was perfect.
Looking at the bombsite I called a kitchen right now however, I doubted even Gordon Ramsay could make this meal perfect.
**********
It was 12.30 PM when Dexter’s knock graced the door. I knew it was him because he uses the same knock wherever he goes – tap, tap, ta tap tap…tap tap. It didn’t matter that he was early because the whole thing was a disaster anyway.
“Hey,” I muttered glumly when I opened the door.
“Glad to see you too, doll,” he replied playfully.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” I added with a pout. He raised an impressed eyebrow and I knew that would be the first and last of the day when he saw the state of the kitchen.
“You know it’s Thanksgiving? That’s so sweet, doll.” In that moment an almighty crash resounded from the kitchen. For a split second Dexter looked alarmed but then he heard Jared’s distinctive laugh follow shortly after. “Jared’s here?” I don’t know why he sounded surprised. Jared is always here lately. He and Rachel are so into each other and everyone knows it – everyone apart from them.
“Yeah well I had this big Thanksgiving dinner planned for you. But it’s not quite turning out as planned,” I confessed dejectedly.
“Seriously? You did that for me?”
“I just wanted to make you feel at home. But now it’s ruined.” Dexter looked around the room, bowing and raising his head exaggeratedly, confusing me in the process.
“Where the hell is it?” he muttered, still searching the room with his eyes. “Oh, here it is,” he said assuredly, placing his hands on my shoulders and looking straight into my eyes. “Right here. I’ve got everything I need to make today special right here. If you’re here, then I am home, doll.” Melting into a puddle at his feet, an involuntarily smile crawled onto my face, betraying the bad mood I was supposed to be in.
“Hey it’s the birthday boy!” Jared sang, raising an almost empty lager bottle in the air when I led Dexter into the kitchen. It was lunch time and the pair of them were already wasted.
“It’s Thanksgiving not his birthday, nob cheese,” Rachel interjected.
“But we don’t have Thanksgiving,” he slurred, confusion sweeping across his face as he ran his fingers through his shaggy blonde hair. Jeez, he really was wasted. I’ve been banging on about Thanksgiving for weeks.
“But they do in America,” Rachel said slowly as if she was talking to a small child.
“But we live in England.”
“And he’s from America, dipshit.” Shaking his head as if resigning himself to the fact this conversation was lost on his pickled brain, Jared took another swig from his bottle.
I looked around the kitchen and sighed. You couldn’t see the countertops for all the pans, half-chopped veg and food wrappers littering the chipped white surface. Little did I know then that when I headed to the oven to check on the over-priced bird, things were about to get even worse.
“Oh for God’s sake, Rach! You didn’t turn the bloody oven on!” She squinted her eyes and bit down on her bottom lip.
“Um… oops?” I threw the tea-towel I had in my hand to the floor and stomped into the living room in a full-on childish tantrum.
“I can’t believe they’re not taking this seriously,” I grumbled when I heard Dexter follow me into the room. I knew it was him because I could hear Rachel and Jared in fits of laughter in the kitchen. “I wanted it to be so perfect for you.”
“Come here,” Dexter said, spinning me around to face him and bringing me into his chest. “Every day I spend with you is perfect. And the fact you even thought to look into Thanksgiving? Well, that’s probably the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.” Looking up to judge the sincerity on his face I was left smiling like a lovesick teenager. Well I guess technically that’s exactly what I am - I’m not twenty for another three months. “Besides,” he added, “I can’t stomach turkey.” After swatting him on the shoulder I reached up on my tiptoes and planted a light kiss on the tip of his nose.
“Pizza?” I asked - resigning myself to the fact my Thanksgiving dinner was a Thanksgiving disaster.
“Only if I can get extra peppers.”
“You can have whatever you want. It’s your birthday remember?” I teased – seeing the funny side of Jared’s drunken stupidity this time. Dexter breathed a small laugh before sweeping me from the floor and spinning me around several times, making me squeal. Mid-air, I called through to the kitchen to ask who wanted pizza, made a mental note of the order and begged Dexter to set me down so I could phone the local takeaway.
Yet again, as if by magic, Dexter had managed to drag me out of a sulk – leaving me unable to remember what was bothering me in the first place.
**********
By 6 PM Rachel and Jared were sprawled across opposite ends of the couch snoring away, leaving me and Dexter with the armchair to share between us. I was sat on his lap and he had both arms around me, cradling me close to him.
“You want to stay at mine tonight?” Dexter whispered into my hair. “I have something for you remember?” I’d forgotten all about that. When he told me earlier I was too busy fretting over the stupid food I’d spent the best part of a week’s wages on.
“Give it to me now,” I demanded playfully.
“We need to be alone when I give it to you.” Oh. Wow. My heart began to race - thrashing against my ribs so violently it was almost painful.
“But you came here to give it me this morning?” I contradicted with a dubious cock of the eyebrow.
“No,” he said slowly. “I said
I had something for you. I don’t believe I stipulated when I was planning to give it to you.” He was teasing me and I couldn’t help but smile. The feeling alive thing I was talking about? This was it… this fuzzy, giddy sensation bouncing around my insides. It’s the only feeling I can focus on – everything else in the entire world seems insignificant when I’m this close to Dexter.
“Then what are we waiting for?” I said eagerly, jumping from his knee. Smiling wickedly he stood up to follow, pinching my bum on his way to the door.
I asked if I could drive, feeling too stuffed full of Meat Feast pizza to put the effort into holding on for dear life on the back of his bike, and much to my amazement, he agreed. I considered leaving a note for Rachel but then decided she and Jared probably wouldn’t surface until at least lunch time tomorrow and I’d be home by then.
So, after throwing my jacket over my arm and stuffing my phone into my bag, I grabbed my keys from the hook behind the door and led Dexter outside towards my car.
Chapter Twenty-One
Dexter
The night I’d been planning for so long was finally here. Tonight I was going to give Emily the very last part of me. I was going to tell her I loved her. Deep down I’ve known for a long time but I had to be certain that’s what it was. I had to be absolutely positive this ache – no, this gut wrenching freakin’ pain in my chest – I felt whenever I thought of her was love. Hell I still don’t know for sure – I have no experience of it so why would I? All I know is the thought of life without her in it makes me not even want to attempt living it anymore. So yeah, I’m gonna go with my gut and say that’s love.
Now before you go calling the psyche ward on my ass I’m not suicidal. I’m not saying I’d top myself without Emily, just that’d I’d be so damn miserable I doubt I’d do anything but carry out the necessary functions in order to survive. And that’s not exactly living.
She told me she loved me a couple of weeks ago. I’m pretty sure it was an accident so I pretended like I’d not heard her because I couldn’t say it back. I just wasn’t ready. I just wasn’t 110% certain that this overpowering vice around my chest was the word I’d always thought to be overused and stupid. But now I’m shitting it because she’s not said it again since and I’m worried I’ve either left it too long and she’s slowly starting to give up on me ever saying it back, or it genuinely was an accident and she regrets saying it as much as I regret not saying it.
Fuck, I’m rambling. I’ll shut up now.
Emily was taking a shower when my cell rang. It was Aunt Sarah and my heart sank the second I saw her name flashing on the screen. I didn’t want to receive the news I’m perpetually expecting. Especially not tonight. I know you don’t know why, but believe me just thinking that - considering how inappropriate the timing would be even for a second - makes me a self-centered fucking asshole.
“Hey, sweet cheeks. How is she?” I answered nervously. I was always nervous when I asked that question.
“No change. Though I think she misses your voice. She keeps picking up the book you always read to her.” An intense silence followed while I fought desperately to swallow my guilt. As always, Aunt Sarah knew not to push me and I think once she realized I wasn’t… couldn’t respond, she changed the subject.
“So, how’s things going over there? You still seeing the girl?” she asked excitedly. I planned to keep Emily to myself – that way she would never expect me to introduce them. But I soon found it impossible not to talk about her to anyone who’d listen and ended up telling Aunt Sarah all about her, right down to the freckle below her eye.
“Yeah,” I answered, feeling flush with emotion as I thought about her. What a fuckin’ pussy I’ve turned into.
“And it’s going good?” she asked, trying but failing to sound nonchalant. She was prying. She wanted to know if I’ve told Emily about me – about the things I was running away from.
“She’s amazing,” I redirected my answer.
“You need to tell her, Dex. She’ll find out eventually.” How? She lives over four thousand miles away from my past. “And if she’s as amazing as you say she is, she’ll understand,” she added. I huffed, feeling frustrated. I didn’t like to talk about this and she knew it. “It was an accident, Dexter. When are you going to forgive yourself?”
That was it. I needed to end this conversation like five minutes ago.
“I have to go. Emily’s in the shower she’ll be out any minute.”
“Okay,” she sighed. “Remember I love you.”
“Love you too.”
When I hung up the call I could still hear the shower running and I was relieved to have a few extra minutes to compose myself. I couldn’t afford to let this overtake what my mind should be focused on tonight – telling and showing Emily how much I loved her. So, after switching my cell to silent, I busied myself in the kitchen by whipping up some of my famous hot-chocolate with extra marshmallows.
I was sitting back on the couch when Emily emerged from the bathroom, dressed once again in one of my t-shirts. She no longer bothered to try and tug it down to protect her modesty and it was moments like this, seeing her still damp from the shower and drowning in my clothes, that I wondered how the hell I’d not bent her over the arm of the couch and fucked her brains out before now.
Yeah, I’m proud of me too.
Patting the space beside me, Emily chose to bypass my hand and sit straight on my lap.
“I’ve made you hot-chocolate,” I said, angling my head towards the coffee table.
“I don’t want hot-chocolate. I want what you brought me here to give me,” she said with a suggestive glint in her eye like she knew exactly what I had planned. Well she didn’t know everything – she couldn’t have known what I was planning to tell her tonight.
I thought about teasing her – dragging this out a little longer. But the second her plump lips made contact with mine that plan went flying straight out the fucking window and under the nearest bus.
I closed my eyes while I tasted her… savored her. She tasted of toothpaste and almond shower-scrub. I tentatively licked every inch of her mouth, not wanting to give into the urge to fucking devour her and have it all over within minutes. When I ran my hand up the back of my shirt and along her spine she moaned softly into my mouth, the vibrations reverberating all the way down to my cock which was so rock hard and uncomfortable I had to shift my position slightly.
“Tell me what you want my present to be?” I asked between kisses, making her blush. We both knew what it was but I wanted to hear the words trickle from her lips. I wanted to hear her tell me how much she wanted me.
“I want it to be you,” she whispered.
“But you already have me,” I teased, pushing her to tell me what she wanted me to do to her.
“Well I want more of you,” she answered coyly – but it wasn’t enough. I lowered my hand down to her thigh and slowly ran my fingers up to where the edge of her panties should be. Holy fuck… there were no panties. Sweet Jesus this playing hard to get shit was about to get a helluva lot harder.
“I’ll give you anything you want, doll. You just have to tell me what is it.” I traced small circles on the bare skin of her inner thigh and she literally shuddered on top of me. Her breathing had accelerated. She was panting softly. She was just as I wanted her… desperate.
“Please, Dexter,” she whimpered, kissing the stubbled skin along my jaw.
“Please what, doll? What do you want me to do to you?” I goaded, feeling intoxicated by the feel of her warm breath coming in short pants across my face. She looked down as she took her bottom lip between her teeth. “Do you want me to touch you?” I asked, deciding to help her out. She nodded shyly.
“Here?” I asked, inching my fingers closer to the spot I knew she wanted me to be. Again, she nodded – biting down on that deliciously plump lip so firmly it turned white. “Or how about here?” I added, stroking one finger along the moist crease which would soon be exploding around my cock
.
“Oh!” she gasped, her eyes momentarily disappearing into the back of her head.
“Hmm, you like that?” I stroked a little firmer, tracing the damp fold up and down before going in for the kill and slipping a finger straight inside her.
“Oh, Jesus!” she panted. I laughed softly, fucking loving what I was doing to her.
“No, doll. Just me… only I can make you feel this good.” But Jesus indeed. She felt every bit amazing as I thought she would. Every bit as hot, as wet, as tight and fucking needy... And that was just around my finger. Slowly but surely she started thrusting her hips to meet every plunge of my finger. Unable to resist I used my thumb to circle her clit simultaneously and I swear to God she nearly jumped off my knee.
I wasn’t ready for her to come apart on me yet though, so I tauntingly slowed my pace until eventually I stopped altogether.
“Come to bed with me,” I whispered into her mouth. Nodding softly, she climbed off my lap and held out her tiny hand. I planned to pick her up but I was too freakin’ winded by what was happening so instead, breathing deeply, I let her lead me to my room.
Instinctively I closed the door behind me, even though I knew no one was around to walk in on us. Then after pulling Emily close to me, resting my hands on her bare hips and kissing her hungrily, I lifted my t-shirt over her head and pushed her gently backwards until she flopped onto my bed.
“That right there,” I said, motioning my hand over her perfect body, “is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Chewing on her lip, she smiled bashfully. Then I eagerly peeled off my own clothes and tossed them to the floor, knowing that in a few minutes time I would find it difficult to break away from her to do it.
Take My Hand Page 18