Out from Under You

by Sophie Swift

  And that’s exactly why I need to get the hell out of this town as fast as I can.

  I’m well-aware of how drunk I am.

  I’m also well-aware of the fact that were I not this intoxicated, I would never allow Blake to put his hands all over me like he’s doing right now. I mean, those meat hooks are everywhere. I think he’s one layer of clothing away from getting us kicked out of the place for inappropriate conduct.

  We’re on the dance floor, but I’m not even sure if you can call what we’re doing dancing anymore. It’s more like upright dry-humping set to music. It started out as dancing. After about the second round of drinks, I got tired of watching Alex make out with Grayson’s neck and asked Blake to dance.

  I knew perfectly well that this would piss Alex off because she and I both know Grayson never dances. And I mean never. He simply refuses to do it.

  I think he grew up in that Footloose town or something.

  And, just as I suspected, the fight began a few minutes after Blake and I exited the booth. I could hear Alex’s pouty whine even over the music blaring from the speakers. She accused Grayson of being too reserved. Too uptight. Not fun. She pleaded for him to let loose more.

  It was an argument I’d heard countless times before.

  “Why can’t you be more like Blake?” I heard her say.

  And that really seemed to set Grayson off. That’s when he started to yell back. And Grayson hardly ever yells back.

  The fight finally simmered down about twenty minutes ago. Alex pouted in the booth for a while, sipping her beer and refusing to make eye contact with Grayson. But now, as I look over, I see that she seems to have forgiven him already and is back to exploring the contours of his neck with her tongue.

  I can hear the roar of blood in my ears as I watch Grayson tilt his head and gently push her away.

  “Everything okay?” Blake shouts to be heard over the music.

  I blink and focus back on my dance gyration partner, just now realizing that I’ve stopped moving.

  “Oh. Yeah. Sure.” I give him a strained smile.

  He grins goofily back and pulls me toward him again, thumping his hips against mine.

  Over the top of Blake’s shoulder, I catch site of Alex in the booth, seemingly put off by Grayson’s rejection. She turns, captures Grayson’s face in her hand, yanks his chin toward her, and kisses him hard on the mouth, her hands roving his body like a Lunar Lander.

  Then she starts kissing his neck again, working her way down, tickling the exposed area of his chest under his polo shirt.

  I expect Grayson’s eyes to close. For his head to tip back, the way it was positioned this morning when I walked in on them in the bathroom. But that doesn’t happen.

  His eyes stay wide open.

  And, in fact, they land on me.

  I take advantage of this unique opportunity and find my way to Blake’s mouth. I plant my lips firmly against his, holding his head steady with the back of my hand.

  It doesn’t take much coercing on my part. Blake responds immediately. Kissing me back with equal vigor, entangling his tongue with mine, his hands pressed hard into my back.

  The thought of having to face him tomorrow night at the restaurant floats somewhere near my consciousness, but I bat it away. That’s for Future Lia to deal with. And I’ve found that Future Lia is usually much better at handling these kinds of things than I am.

  Right now I just need to show Grayson that I don’t care. That he can get blow jobs from my sister whenever he wants. I’ve moved on.

  Something I really should have done eight years ago.

  Something I really thought I did when the two of them left for college.

  But clearly my heart believes otherwise.

  Blake starts to kiss the hollow below my cheek bone, and I close my eyes and focus all my efforts on enjoying the feel of his lips on my skin.

  This is hot.

  This is sexy.

  This should be getting my blood pumping.

  But, for some reason, his mouth feels like slimy octopus suction cups puckering my flesh.

  I feel a tap on my shoulder and I’m grateful for the distraction. I pull away to see Alex standing next to us, her arms crossed. Grayson stands a few paces back, looking at his feet.

  “We’re leaving,” Alex says. “Grayson has a stick up his ass tonight.”

  I bite my lip to keep from giggling. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “You two have fun for us. Since clearly my fiancé is incapable of enjoying himself.”

  Alex starts to turn away and I’m bombarded by a sense of panic. The thought of being here alone with Blake is kind of nauseating. I’m about to bid Blake farewell and announce that I’m coming home with them when Grayson steps forward.

  “Come on, Lia,” he practically orders me. “It’s time to go.”

  And that’s when my blood really starts to boil. I flash him the fakest of smiles. “That’s okay, Grayson. I think I’ll stay.”

  “Yeah, don’t worry, man,” Blake puts in. “I’ll get her home.” He winks at Grayson and I almost want to roll my eyes.

  “No.” The force and swiftness of Grayson’s reply startle everyone.

  Alex seems to find it amusing. “Don’t worry. She’s a big girl now.”

  But my reaction is anything but amused. “Thanks,” I spit at him. “But I’m pretty sure I can make my own decisions. Besides, you’re not my brother yet.”

  The torment that passes over his face is hard to miss. And yet I seem to be the only one who notices.

  Then suddenly Grayson’s hand is around my arm, and he’s physically pulling me toward the door. “You’re drunk, Lia. You’re not thinking straight. You’re coming home with us.”

  I twist and thrash and try to shake him loose, but his grip is too strong. “Let GO!” I scream.

  But he doesn’t let go. Not until he’s dragged me through the bar, out the door, and into the parking lot.

  “What the fuck is your problem?!” I yell as soon as I’m free. “You can’t tell me what to do or who to hang out with! You have NO right!”

  “I just don’t want to see you do something you’ll regret in the morning.”

  “WILL YOU STOP TRYING TO SAVE ME?! YOU CAN’T DO IT! I’M NOT YOUR FUCKING PROBLEM!”

  Grayson’s head droops forward. “I’m not trying to save you,” he whispers, barely audible. “I’m trying to save me.”

  But before I can ask him what the hell that means, Alex stumbles dazedly into the parking lot, holding both of our purses, the confusion evident on her face. “Grayson? What has gotten into you tonight? If Lia wants to stay she can stay.”

  Blake exits just then, his hands raised in a gesture of surrender. “Look, it’s fine. Lia, we can hang out tomorrow or something.”

  And I know there’s no point in arguing now. The moment is over. Blake probably thinks we’re a family of psychopaths and drama queens and I wouldn’t be surprised if he turns in his notice tomorrow morning and I never see him again.

  He kisses my cheek before shuffling toward the street. It’s a short walk back to the restaurant where his car is parked.

  “Do you want to tell me what the hell that was about?” Alex demands of Grayson as soon as Blake is out of earshot. She yanks open the passenger side door of my father’s car. I grudgingly slide into the back seat and cross my arms over my chest.

  “I’m sorry,” Grayson says softly as he gets in behind the wheel and buckles his seat belt. “It’s just that I can tell Blake is a huge player.”

  “Lia can take care of herself,” Alex retorts.

  He puts the car in gear and backs out of the parking spot, catching my eyes briefly in the rear-view mirror before I turn and stare out the window.

  He doesn’t respond. But he doesn’t have to. I think we both know that Alex is wrong.

  “What are you doing?” Alex asks from the bathroom as she rubs a third application of cream into her face.

  I stand in the bedroom,
flipping through the mobile train schedule on my phone until I find the first one leaving for Manhattan tomorrow. It departs at seven twenty a.m. I glance at the clock on the nightstand.

  Six hours from now.

  I let out a captured breath that has gone stale.

  Six hours.

  That’s all you have to get through.

  I plug the phone into the charging cable that’s lying on the floor and sit down on the bed to unlace my shoes.

  “Hello?” Alex calls.

  I glance up and see her posing seductively in the doorway of the bathroom. She’s changed into a pair of my boxer briefs and a white tank top. A deadly combination.

  Or at least it used to be.

  She knows how that very outfit used to drive me crazy in high school. How much I loved sliding those briefs down her delicate, bronzed legs. I would practically come before I even got them around her ankles.

  But a lot has changed since high school.

  Fuck, a lot has changed since yesterday.

  I swallow and go back to removing my shoes. She doesn’t appreciate the snub.

  I hear her clear her throat behind me. “I asked what you were doing. On your phone.”

  I pull my socks off and tuck them into my shoes. “I got an email. From work.”

  I know better than to look at her while I lie.

  “And?” I feel the mattress shift beneath me and I know she’s climbed onto the bed. No doubt twisting herself into another blatantly erotic pose designed to make me hard.

  Any other night it would work.

  “And it looks like I’ll have to take the first train back to the city tomorrow.”

  “What?” She sounds more curious than mad and I take this as a small victory. “But you said you could get off until Tuesday.”

  I stand and pull my shirt over my head, deliberately facing the wall. “Something came up.”

  “What came up?”

  I should have known she’d want details. I should have prepared better.

  I sigh, trying to sound put off by the news. “It’s the Hong Kong deal. They want a new analysis by tomorrow night. Surprisingly, they don’t celebrate Labor Day in Asia.”

  I fold the shirt and place it in my suitcase.

  “I’ll come with you.”

  “No.” I finally turn around. Alex has fallen out of whatever porn star position she previously folded herself into and is now sitting crossed legged on top of the covers, her whole body slumped in disappointment. I walk around the bed and touch her knee. “You should stay with your family. You haven’t seen them in a long time. Besides, I’ll likely be at the office all day. There’s no reason for you to be there.”

  She frowns and picks at a loose thread on the comforter. “Okay.”

  But I know it’s not okay. Alex is using her pout-pout voice. The one that’s so damn adorable I’m usually never able to resist it.

  But tonight, I simply touch her cheek and say, “I’m sorry, babe,” and disappear into the bathroom.

  I take my time, hoping that when I re-emerge, Alex will be asleep.

  And she is.

  I stand in the darkness in only my shorts, my ear tipped toward the wall, listening for any sign of Lia in the bedroom next door.

  When we got home earlier, she didn’t come upstairs with us. She stalked into the kitchen, pulled open the refrigerator, and started making herself a sandwich.

  I thought about trying to talk to her again, but it’s become evident that I can’t talk to Lia. Bad things happen when I try. Maybe I’ll never be able to talk to her again. Maybe we’ll spend the rest of our lives avoiding eye contact and trying not to end up in the same room together.

  Maybe my karmic payback for that one night in the kitchen will be a lifetime of awkwardness.

  I hear the screen door slam downstairs and I shuffle to the window, pulling back the curtains.

  My chest hitches when I see her, barely visible in the porch light, lumbering down the walkway to the beach, the blackness of the night swallowing her up with each step.

  I eye the door to the hallway.

  The door to everything that happens after this moment.

  I suddenly feel like my entire life will be decided by which side of it I’m on.

  This side—right here where I stand—is the side I’ve always known. The one I have all the answers to. This is the side on which I marry Alex and she bears my children and we buy a town house in Brooklyn together. This is the side I always thought I wanted to be on.

  And that side, over there—through that doorway, down those stairs, onto that beach—that is the side I know nothing about. A foreign land. With no certainties and no answers. The side that terrifies me.

  My gaze drills into the wooden door. My skin feels hot. My mouth is dry. My fingers twitch.

  And then suddenly, there is no more choice.

  My body moves without permission from my mind.

  In three paces I’m in the hallway. In ten juddered heartbeats I’m down the stairs. In a dizzying montage of choppy, breathless still frames, my bare feet stagger down the walkway, sinking into the cool sand.

  Lia stands motionless at the edge of the water, staring out into the darkened horizon, as though she might find answers there. As though the world beyond this shore might make more sense. The full moon casts a faint light on the side of her face, causing her skin to glow.

  The sand hides the sound of my heavy footfalls as I stride toward her.

  When my hand tightens around her arm, she is startled but doesn’t scream. When I pull her around to face me, she opens her mouth to protest. To continue the tirade she began in the parking lot of the bar. But when my lips crush decisively against hers, claiming her with a consuming, covetous kiss, everything falls silent.

  Only the waves dare to breathe.

  My mind screams for me to stop him. Stop the world. Stop the waves. Stop everything.

  Logic buzzes around my head like tiny cartoon thought bubbles.

  “This is wrong!”

  “You’ll regret this!”

  “He will never be yours!”

  But my body...

  My fucking, traitorous, selfish body.

  It’s so alive.

  It’s pulsating with energy. With fire.

  With Grayson.

  His mouth engulfs mine. His hands rake over me. His heart pounds in my ears.

  My knees buckle and I’m going down, down, down. But I never fall. Grayson’s arms wrap around me, shielding me, catching me, lowering me into the sand. He hovers over me for a few breathless moments before the weight of his body descends, covering me like a hot blanket.

  My legs involuntarily spread, my feet wrapping around the backs of his thighs as I press my palms against the bare skin of his back.

  His fingers drape against my cheek, urging my mouth open wider as his tongue explores every corner, every crevice. My hips rise, crushing into him, begging him to go deeper, search farther, find everything.

  He tugs forcefully on the straps of my dress. They both snap in his strong hands and fall uselessly against my shoulders. He pulls at the neckline, coaxing it down my back until it’s just a rumpled heap around my waist.

  He stops kissing me long enough to stare down at me, his face made visible by the pale blue/gray glint of the moon. His eyes close for the briefest of moments as he lets out a sigh that sounds like a plea for help.

  “What the fuck are you doing to me?” he asks, the ocean breeze stealing the last syllable away and carrying it down the beach.

  His mouth descends hungrily again, landing on my collarbone. His tongue traces the ridge of it, sending shivers of bliss rippling outward. His lips kiss a path across the tops of my breasts as he lets out a deep, guttural moan.

  Then his fingers snake underneath me, forcing my back into an arch, bringing my breasts closer to him as his tongue finds my left nipple and his fingertips find my right. Together, they play in perfect harmony, inspiring every atom in my body to sing.
<
br />   The hand under my back compels me closer to him, urging my tingling nipple deeper into his wet mouth.

  “Grayson,” I gasp.

  The sound of his own name seems to ratchet up his desire for me even more. I can feel the hardness between his legs throbbing eagerly against my thigh, pleading to be let out.

  I reach down and fumble for his belt, yanking the strap out of the loop. My hands are so desperate to get to him, I feel like I could rip right through the leather.

  I push myself up and rest my palm on his bare chest, shoving him onto his back. I dive for his mouth as I thrust my hand down his shorts.

  His entire body shudders beneath me as I take him in my palm and squeeze. Gently at first. Teasing. And then with more purpose.

  He lets out a slow groan as I begin to stroke him.

  My tongue presses into his mouth and his hand weaves through my hair.

  I continue to pull and fondle and taunt as his body convulses beneath me. His head tips back, falling away from my lips, and he opens his eyes. Our gazes connect and a surge of raw energy streams between us.

  Then a sly smile dances across his face as he reaches down and removes my hand from beneath his shorts.

  “No,” he says softly, cupping my cheek in his palm. “You.”

  And before I can think, I’m on my back again. His mouth is maneuvering from the bottom of my breasts, across my stomach, and toward the crumpled top of my dress. He reaches down, finds the bottom hem and shoves it up until it’s also around my waist.

  He slides one hand down my hip bone, following the edge of my panties. His fingertip hesitates, testing the boundaries, flicking against the seam.

  I tremble with anticipation and let out a tiny cry as he slips beneath the fabric, stroking me gently—almost cautiously. His mouth still lingers on my stomach and I push down against his head in response, wanting more. So much more.

  Always more.

  His finger sinks inside of me. My lips fall open. A gasp erupts. Reverberates through the dark night.