by Blythe Stone
“I will,” I said. Watching her go and hoping I hadn’t spurned her or anything. It wasn’t about that at all. I just wanted to have a second where I wasn’t worrying about her. Wasn’t thinking about what she was thinking. Wasn’t second guessing myself.
I closed my eyes after she left and let the concerto play on while I studied it. Beneath the water I slowly and absentmindedly scrubbed myself with the wet washcloth.
It didn’t take me long at all to feel the calm thoroughly invade.
Music helped me a lot. It took me away. It also reminded me of all the things I already knew. For instance, people in general were usually selfish. Before Avery I was sure of this.
All her talk about not wanting to let people down confused me. I couldn’t understand giving much of a shit about complete strangers. I was good at playing people games. Good at knowing that it’s smarter to woo a person then underwhelm them. To me, playing with people, for the most part, was a game, like a sparring match. And games with other people were quite easy to win.
You would think Avery would be aware of these simple things.
If I was in a right mood I’d ask her about it playfully.
My mood now was more reserved. After the morning I didn’t want to touch on topics that could further wound her broken brain.
I wondered if she saw how I played games. With her father, with her friends… I’d always done it. It was like a switch that just activated when I knew what I needed to be or wanted to have. It was all for her, those games.
I did that with my parent’s friends. Not Roberta so much, Roberta actually liked me.
It’s just hard to talk about or explain to someone who finds it hard to please. I think Avery’s like that.
After I listened to the concerto- as it peaked- I sat up and moved faster to use the shampoo and conditioner and rub soap into my skin with my fingers and my thumbs and spread it throughout.
I loved baths. Avery didn’t much like them. To Avery a bath meant we could lay together, touch each other. I loved independent baths though too. The last time we took a bath I felt I was holding her up the whole time. Like I was bothering her and she wanted to be doing manual things like cleaning me.
That was no way to soak.
I let myself exhale as I rested again, fully clean now.
I was scared to face her but I knew the concerto I was listening to was exactly thirty three minutes and twenty one seconds long which would mean I’d willingly left her alone for that abundant amount of time.
She wanted me to take time. I realized that back at the pool.
It’s not fair though. I suggested I watch her and she said okay.
Okay means: yes please.
We have a code. Or at least, I feel like we do.
Then after I watch her I’m the one putting pressure? I’m the one being strange?
The concerto was about to end. I pulled the plug on the tub and watched as the water began to drain between my legs.
What I really wanted to do was finish that book about Missoula… But I didn’t want to read that in front of her.
I gathered myself up and got dry. In the bathroom I took extra-long moisturizing my body and doing small maintenance things: I’d rung Avery’s suit out and hung it up, I brushed my teeth and flossed, taking extra-long with the mouthwash.
I tweezed my eyebrows and put product in my hair to keep it from getting all crazy in the night. I made a note in my mind to book a spa treatment again, maybe during fifth period tomorrow if they could squeeze me in. Halfway through my embittered pampering I realized I’d gone twenty minutes into the next concerto and I was obviously stalling again about going back out.
I felt stupid. I deadpanned at myself in the mirror. I shut my music off and went out.
Avery was laying on the bed. She had homework out, it looked like math. I loved the way she laid on her stomach and stressed. Her eyebrows always knit and she’d pinch her lips in her fingers and just stare. She was so serious sometimes it turned me on. I wondered if she knew.
Her music played softly. It was something weepy and I liked it.
She glanced up at me when I came out and we both softened a little, relieved to see each other again, but we didn’t speak.
I walked to the closet a bit flushed and pulled on a short nightdress to lounge around in.
If I couldn’t openly admit to reading Missoula: Rape and the Justice System in a College Town by Jon Krakauer right now, I would settle for another book I picked up, a shorter less technical read called Milk and Honey by Rapi Kaur. This one I knew Avery wouldn’t ask much about. It looked popular and it could be about anything. She definitely wouldn’t assume it was about loss or abuse.
I went back in the kitchen and cut a piece of pie and heat it up while I started the book.
When I got back to the room I sat the plate down to the right of me. I laid down beside her quite parallel and left a little space as I opened my book again to read.
I took a bite of the warm pie that had cinnamon vanilla ice cream melting onto it per my preference. Once I’d taken one bite I dropped my spoon and left it there in case Avery too wanted some.
My mouth filled up with pleasure and I felt the cool of the ice cream and the heat of the pie combine and fight each other for dominance while they simultaneously slid down my throat and coated it in a confused sort of creamy warmth. Sweetness and cinnamon remained. I let out a content sigh.
She was writing something down, doing some problem. She didn't look up- just furrowed her brow. Math wasn't her thing.
“Do you want help?” I asked. “Or pie?” I smiled over at her, a spot of mischief in my glance as I took another bite and dragged the spoon slowly out of my mouth.
Avery was being far too good and I was being a shit.
It was our usual apparently.
“Yeah, explain to me how I can work the example in the book perfectly but when it comes to the homework it’s like another language.”
She set her pencil down and groaned, rubbing her eyes. “I'm so not majoring in anything that requires extra Math.”
“Okay, that’s easy,” I said, closing my book and turning onto my side. “You stress yourself out,” I reminded. “Luckily for you, after college, complicated math can be completely unnecessary in your life. I can do all the accounting,” I teased. “Or you can hire someone,” I flared my eyes. “But you’re right, ya know? Math IS another language. Learning something like that can never be easy.”
I cut my spoon through the pie, topped it with ice cream and offered it up.
She was very grumpy tonight. It was starting to infect me with the need to tease. I felt like the sick little joker. Like I could ask darkly: Why so serious?
Avery took the pie and ate it, sighing after she swallowed. “I know. I just want to get it. I've never felt smart in a traditional way. My brain doesn't work like American curriculum dictates.”
I got up and straddled her body, resting the backs of my thighs and my butt down on top of hers so I could use my hands to rub her back. She was frustrating. “Well, the American curriculum is hyper-focused and strange. It’s probably for the best you’re not a pawn in the embarrassing system,” I mused. “Perhaps I should go up to my room to find a few of the books I have that romanticize math.” I pushed my thumbs down into her skin and rode her shirt up to her shoulders as I kneaded her muscles to try and calm her a little bit. “There will always be more problems to solve,” I reminded. “Even the smartest and most specialized come across blocks. There were certain math problems just sitting in dust for decades upon decades because nobody could yet find the know-how to solve them.” I wondered if Avery really knew all that. Even the best could be just as frustrated as she was right now.
I peeked over her shoulder to watch what she was trying to do. “Nope,” I said. “Carry that.”
“Damn!” She cursed, turning her pencil around angrily and erasing.
I lifted my hands up to her neck and started working those muscles in
a steady rhythm. After that I started pushing her hair up over her head just to fuck with her and drive her up the wall.
She was already mad.
“No math will get done if you turn me on too much. Your hands are fucking magic,” she groaned.
“You’re frustrating the fuck out of me,” I said flatly. “You’re this little ball of stress right now. It’s killing me.”
“What do you want me to do?” She let her face fall onto her calculus book. “I can go for a run.”
“You can do whatever you want,” I said sweetly, pushing my fingers up into her hair and trying to contain myself as I let them scratch sort of lightly. Just touching her like this brought me so much pleasure. I was trying not to get comfortable. I knew soon she’d probably move me.
“I don't know what I want,” Avery said.
I laid down on her back, hugging myself on top of her and sighing.
I liked feeling her. I couldn’t guess though what she wanted me to say or to do. Right now I was just going with my gut. I wanted this. I wanted to be touching her.
“Should I leave you alone?” I asked.
“No,” She said, closing her book and pushing it off the bed. “Just keep doing what you're doing.”
“Really?” I asked. “I don’t want to bother you,” I said, pretending to be truthful. Of course I wanted to fucking bother her. She was a mess right now.
I pushed her hair away and kissed the side of her face.
“Of course you do. You're trying to get me out of my bratty ass mood.” She put her hands above her head, surrendering to me. “Yes, Really.”
“I’m not trying to do anything,” I lied, licking her earlobe into my mouth and sucking on it. “I just like you,” I reminded hollowly. “And you look remarkably cute when you’re upset about pointless things like homework and math.”
Grumpy Avery was such an adorable blessing. I ran my hand along her side and felt her bare skin beneath her shirt.
I placed my hand on the back of her neck as I whispered. “My fiancé’s the cutest.”
I could leave her alone now. I just wanted her to really know. I kissed the side of her face and the back of her head as I pushed my body up off of hers and moved to lay down again by her side.
If she wasn’t going to eat the pie I would eat it.
Chapter 7
Avery
I could have figured the math out but I didn't want to. I hated that I was wound up. There was no good reason. She was being sweet and patient and loving and I was being a shit.
Next time I felt like I was in this kind of mood I would go somewhere. I could tell it affected her. That was a given.
When she got off me I rolled into her, hiding my face in her side.
“Too much happened today. Can we just start over?”
“If you want to,” she said. “How exactly does one start anew though, unsullied? Do we need candles? Will there be chanting?”
I looked at her, blinking and then I let one of my eyebrows raise. “Smartass. Maybe I’ll chant you right out of bed.” I grabbed her arms and held her down, getting on top of her.
“I’d like to see you try,” she laughed.
“You know I could do it.” I looked down, assessing her.
She flexed her wrists under my hands and I let her feel the freedom to move them, knowing I could clamp down if I wanted.
“What’s going on in your head?” I asked, my lip curling up.
“Absolutely nothing,” she lied, a ridiculous bullshit smile on her face. “You know I don’t think at all. That’s just not me. What a stupid fucking question,” she was teasing me.
“Mmmm, you’re very sassy tonight. I’m not sure what I should do about it yet.”
“Sounds like your problem,” she sighed and pretended to be bored.
“Yes, it does.” I released her and rolled off, turning over and getting my book off the floor, only to open it and cover my face, setting it against my skin.
She crawled on top of me a little and grabbed it away.
“Nobody reads like that,” she said, dropping the book to the ground. I felt her straddle my waist and use both hands to rub up my stomach “If you don’t want to hang-out with me you can at least pretend to have some other real purpose.”
“Who said I didn’t want to hang out with you?” I asked, primly.
“Oh, I dunno,” she said, scrunching her eyebrows. “You’ve just been all stormy tonight. It’s not like I can really compete or even interact with that.” I felt her hands move up over my breasts and squeeze as she looked down on me and watched my face change.
“Ah,” I sighed. When she did that I couldn’t even remember my name for a second. It was five kinds of intense because of how I was feeling up and down.
“Mmmmm,” she hummed, watching me as she squeezed me again. “I see I’ve found a way to get through to you.”
“You always win in the end. Storms blow over and it seems like you do indeed have me at a disadvantage or an advantage depending on your viewpoint.”
“Hmmm… Debatable,” she said, carefully leaning down and rubbing my nipples with her thumbs as she rest her upper-body down onto mine and bit her lip, coming close. “These storms have been a lot more frequent lately, don’t you think?” She made a small sound as her mouth fell open while she stared.
“Disadvantage… That’s what I’d have to say,” she was capturing me with her eyes. I felt her move up and kiss me like a bit of an intense little thief.
“Ahh, unf.” I made noises, arching up and bending back down. I was very sensitive today. “With good reason,” I ground out.
She was going to be able to extract whatever she wanted from me. This was one of those times that she was in control. I couldn’t fight.
“Well,” she sighed, pushing herself down just a bit. “I haven’t decided if I’m supposed to let you swim a while on your own- till you get all tuckered out- or if maybe I should just push you down underwater for a little bit to try and wake you up.” She pushed my shirt up and licked my nipple up into her mouth, tugging just a little as she did it.
I felt her teeth as she rolled my nipple and flicked at the tip with her tongue. She let go of it and started kissing up the side of my breast while her other hand squeezed like it’d been doing. “I’m running out of ideas,” she panted, nibbling slowly down my side.
I couldn’t talk while she was touching me like this. My hands stayed away, letting her play. If she wanted a real answer she could stop for a second but right now there wouldn’t be one. She’d know that from the noises I was making.
When I didn’t speak she came back up my body and braced herself onto her side so her body wouldn’t exactly be on mine anymore. She was watching me, wondering. I felt her hand touch my face and move down my neck between my breasts and then down, down, down. “What am I gonna do with you?” She asked, fingers sinking down into my fold as she gasped at the wetness and let her fingers come back up.
“Tease me apparently.” I said, squeezing out the words between short bursts of breathing.
Her hand stopped on my nipple and she took it into her mouth again only this time tasting a bit of her fingers as she did.
“Shit,” I rumbled, watching her. “I don’t know what you should do with me. I’m not an easy person.”
She moved her body closer and dropped her hand down my skin again, this time keeping it at my center and rubbing me while she sucked on my nipple sweetly, kissing it like she would kiss my lips. Long smooth drags of her tongue, lips opening and closing as the dragged against my skin. I felt her fingers slide tight on either side of my clit as she pulled and played.
I tried not to move. I deserved the slow torture of it. Denial brought with it a certain kind of punishment. I wanted that. She couldn’t know that though. She might figure out what I was doing. I was curious now.
I kept still except for my chest rising and falling and my face changing.
She brought her hand up again and shifted. “Do you
want me touching you right now?” She asked, hovering over me and trying to figure me out. She used her hand to touch my face. I felt her thumb run along my bottom lip as she watched me and looked for an answer. Her eyes were locked on mine, searching them. She bent down and kissed me deeply. I felt her tongue swim inside and push mine back. It was almost like she didn’t want me to say.
“I can stop,” she whispered, pained, against my lips.
“Don’t.” I replied, kissing her back. I battled with her over control until she was getting worked up.