Sunday morning I felt like I had a hangover. Drinking tons of water did nothing to help my Vivian Sparks withdrawal symptoms. Inhaling the bed sheets that I hadn’t yet washed since she was last on them made everything so much worse. I was at home, but I felt homeless without having her with me. It was terrible.
If LB had been curled up with me when I woke up it might have made things easier, but the little thing seemed to be repelled by my angst. She was like: “Yeah I’ll just let you deal with this on your own you big pussy.” Cats.
I didn’t want to seem pathetic. So I texted Vivian a reminder not to eat too much at the luncheon. What an asshole.
Just as I’d written that I realized I had been stuffing my face with blueberry oatmeal flax cookies. I wasn’t even counting.
Eventually, she sent back a picture of her middle finger.
I kissed the screen of my phone.
I was pathetic.
I wrote to ask if she had any plans besides the family luncheon today. I wanted to know if she was going to see her ex.
I completely knew that he was going to want her back, and I was fully aware that I would not let that happen. I was fairly certain that she wouldn’t be interested, but I couldn’t know for sure. Vivian Sparks had a history of shocking me with her attraction to asshole idiots.
Vivian: Hey, my phone battery is getting low, I think there’s something wrong with it. I need to turn it off for a while okay?
Now what.
There was a time when I knew what to do with myself. There was a time when I had thoughts and feelings that weren’t Vivian-based. What the fuck did I used to do when I wasn’t fucking Vivian? Oh that’s right—I did things for my body that didn’t involve Vivian’s body.
The last thing anyone needed was for me to turn back into a blob of cells that just lived for her.
I didn’t know how to be in love with Vivian as an adult. I didn’t know how to be in love with her in the open. I didn’t know how to say it without fear of rejection from all of society.
But I did know how to get out of my head and move my body.
Portland is stunning in May. It was a gorgeous day, so I spent the afternoon hiking Forest Park and when I got home, I ignored all of the texts and calls I had gotten from women I used to hook up with, and I worked on my business plan for the fitness center chain.
My secret personal plans for revenge had shifted. Now I wanted to help Vivian get revenge on the guy who cheated on her and dumped her. He needed to see what a magnificent goddess he had lost out on.
He needed to know that she was mine.
And so did she.
Chapter Eighteen
VIVIAN
It was good to get away for a little while. I needed to be reminded that the world did not revolve around Brad Mitchell. But as soon as I landed at PDX, I craved him more than ever.
It seemed like my attraction to Brad, while energizing for me, was seriously draining my phone battery. Ever since we’d started texting each other, I found I had to charge it more and more often. I was using it more often, obviously, but it was bad. I had to wait until June to upgrade my phone through my wireless service, so I needed to tough it out.
Waiting until June to get a new phone was nothing compared to waiting until after ten that night to see Brad again.
I returned to Portland Monday morning. Brad had appointments all Monday, but I actually believed he would have picked me up at the airport otherwise. Whether he was offering as a friend or as a lover was anyone’s guess.
He had even asked if I needed him to feed Justin Timberlake while I was gone, but Mrs. Friar had already agreed to. When I’d gone over to her house to ask her to check in on JT, she kept grinning at me. “I thought I was the only one who yelled out curse words when I climaxed,” she finally said, as I was about to leave.
“What?”
“You guys have been having some fun, huh? He reminds me of my late husband, God rest his horny devil soul.”
“Oh God. I’m so sorry I didn’t think you could hear that.”
“I didn’t. I don’t hear any of it. Especially when it’s raining.” She winked at me.
It was mortifying.
But also reassuring to know that I hadn’t been imagining the sex with Brad.
Fortunately, I was up against a deadline for filing some charter documents, and preparing documents for a shareholders’ meeting, so I didn’t have time to think about my reunion with Brad until after dinner.
He had offered to come to my place again, after closing the gym. We hadn’t texted much since Sunday morning, so I couldn’t get a read on him. But as soon as I opened the door and saw him, he told me everything I needed to know without saying a word.
He looked so handsome, just in his sweats and jacket, but it literally took my breath away to see him again. He didn’t say a thing. He saw me, stared at my mouth, stepped inside, dropped the Nike bag he was carrying, and hugged me. He hugged me deep and long, and it felt like he was trying to absorb me into himself. He breathed me in. And then he cupped the back of my head and kissed me. He kissed me softly, slowly, and then he kissed me hungrily, like I was the Cheat Day meal he’d been looking forward to all week, his hands exploring my body, over and then under my dress (the loose one). When he found the peek-a-boo panties, he grunted, pushed me up against the wall, and pressed himself inside of me.
It happened quickly, and it didn’t last as long as usual, but it was my favorite time. He couldn’t wait and he was so relieved. His body had missed my body as much as mine had missed his. Just knowing that and feeling his deep need to be inside of me was more erotic to me than a thousand porny thrusts. It wasn’t until afterwards that I realized he had come directly inside of me for the first time. He continued holding me up against the wall. He rested his forehead against mine, our breaths in sync.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi.”
We kissed on the couch for an hour after that. It was just like in high school, except we weren’t practicing for anything—it couldn’t have been more real. He couldn’t stop touching me. He put the brand new Nike runners that he got for me on my feet and laced them up for me. Then he removed them and gave me a foot massage.
For a while, his voice was different. It was a little more high-pitched when he talked to me, like he was speaking to an adorable child. He realized what he was doing, cleared his throat and then started talking like Batman.
When I’d finally stopped laughing, he told me that he was taking the next weekend off from work to go surfing at Cannon Beach. He was going to stay overnight. “Do you want to come?”
“With you?”
“Yes. With me. At the same time. In the same car. In the same suite. It’s pet-friendly.”
“Oh. Do you want me to watch LB while you’re surfing?”
He laughed. “Well you certainly can. And you can bring JT too. But I just want you to come with me.”
Gulp.
“Have you ever been?”
“No, but I’ve always wanted to.”
“It’s so beautiful. I know you’d love it.”
“I’m sure I would.”
“Then come. Just one night. There’s no one else I want to take with me. There’s only you.”
“Say no more. I’m there.”
“Hey. There really is only you. You know what I mean?”
“Why don’t you tell me exactly what you mean.”
“I mean I haven’t been seeing anyone else since we…You haven’t either, right?
“Of course not.”
“So, to be clear…We are now officially dating. Each other. Exclusively.”
I jumped up and held a fist to my mouth, pretending to blow on a horn. “Hear ye! Hear ye! Let it be known to all in the land that Brad Mitchell and Vivian Sparks are now officially dating each other exclusively!”
He tackled me and threw me down on the couch, burying his head in my bosom and spanking the side of my butt. “You’re a turd.”
; “I’m exclusively your turd.”
My face hurt because I was smiling so hard. When I was finally able to relax my facial muscles, I asked him if he wanted to go to my sister’s wedding with me. “I mean, I know you’ll be taking next weekend off so I don’t know if you can take another weekend off in June, but...It’s kind of the biggest event in my life so far since prom. I mean, it’s a way bigger deal than prom. But if you’re interested. You’re the only person I want to go with.”
He was smiling and running his fingers through my hair while I babbled. “Yes. I mean I have to check my schedule. I don’t know if I can get away for a whole weekend. I want to. Yes. My answer is yes, depending on my schedule. Of course. You’re my girlfriend.”
“You’re my boyfriend.”
“Oh my God we’re gross.”
“We’re adorable. I love us.”
He made a weird little noise in his throat, like he was swallowing something, and then he kissed me.
As soon as he left, I texted my sister that I would be bringing him as my date, and that he was officially my boyfriend.
Aubrey: About fucking time!
I went to my bedroom and plugged in my phone adapter. Just when I had attached my phone, the screen lit up with Brad’s name and number. I bent down and immediately answered: “What’s wrong? What happened?”
I could tell from his voice that he was smiling. “Nothing. What’s wrong with you?”
“What? Is she okay?”
“Who? LB? Yeah she’s great.”
“Oh. Well, the only time you’ve ever called me was when you found her in your garage.”
“Really? That can’t be true. Really?”
“Really.”
“Well. I just wanted to hear your voice before I go to sleep.”
Awww. “Really?”
“Yes, but if this is the caliber of phone conversation you have to offer, I think we should go back to texting.”
“Don’t you dare hang up on me Mitchell.”
He laughed. God, I loved hearing him laugh.
“I’m gonna tell you all about my visit to Seattle because you were too busy kissing me when you were here.”
“I regret nothing.”
I lay down on my bed and had to hang off the side of it a bit so I could hold the phone up to my ear while continuing to charge the battery. I wanted his voice going straight into my ear hole. Speakerphone just didn’t cut it when I was talking to my sexy official new boyfriend.
We talked for half an hour, until my phone got hot and I was too tired to form coherent sentences.
“Sweet dreams,” he said before hanging up. “I’m happy. I’ll call you in the morning.”
I sighed loudly, then detoxed from my eyes until I fell asleep.
Chapter Nineteen
BRAD
I will always remember the drive to Cannon Beach as the most blissful drive of my life. I could tell that Vivian was enjoying it too. She was quiet, but always smiling. I mostly had one hand on the wheel and one hand on her thigh the entire time. I leaned over to kiss her at every stoplight. She had my kitten in a carrier on her lap, and we listened to podcasts, and I hadn’t been so completely at ease with her since before senior year.
It was sunny but there were big fluffy cumulus clouds and a good breeze, the trees and shrubs were exploding with color amongst all the usual greens—and then it was like—POW—the ocean. Feeling the sun on my skin, breathing in the clean air as I drove towards the coast with my girls beside me—it was the kind of perfect moment that only came when you got out of your daily life and into an unknown space where your ego and your past can’t find you.
If only I could have stayed there.
After checking into the deluxe suite at the inn, getting the Little Badass all set up in the small bedroom, I took Vivian to Oceanside. I surfed before the sun went down, while she watched me and walked the beach. I was just warming up, getting my body used to surfing again after about nine months. I had been planning to catch more waves the next morning at Indian Beach. We watched the sunset for a while, but I was really fucking cold after taking off my wetsuit, and Vivian insisted we get back inside. We held hands walking on the beach, back to the car, and I felt like such an idiot for never holding her hand while walking before, because it felt so perfect.
When we got back to the inn, we got into the hot tub on the private deck off our suite, and then we went to town on each other in the king-size hotel bed. Since she’d returned from Seattle we’d been having unprotected sex and I couldn’t get enough of her. It felt so good it scared me. I knew it would, but I couldn’t stop myself, that first time I saw her after she’d gotten back. After one weekend without her, I didn’t want any physical barriers between us.
I knew what it was like to have to live without her and that was before I’d even had sex with her. If she moved on to someone else again, I didn’t know what it would do to me. Of course, I reminded myself, I now had all kinds of techniques for dealing with setbacks—it was part of my job. I had to keep reminding myself of this. It just didn’t feel true yet.
After we’d fucked the third time that night, she suddenly started crying.
“What’s wrong?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong at all.”
She had been so quiet for most of the day, I really wondered if there was something going on with her, or if I had said or done something wrong.
I hadn’t.
Yet.
“Baby, don’t cry.”
“I can’t seem to stop detoxing. I’ve probably lost like five pounds of water weight from my eyeballs.”
“Don’t cry. It kills me to see you crying.”
She nodded her head and tried to stop crying, but then she started sobbing and finally she said in a weird hiccup-y voice: “I just wish I’d gone with you to prom.”
Yeah. Welcome to my brain. “You have to stop beating yourself up about that.”
“Why—because that’s your job?”
“Yes.”
“I just want you to know that I understand why it was so hard for you to let go of the prom thing. Everything that happened, everything that didn’t happen. I’ve been going back to that time over and over again too, for years, but it’s different because I felt guilt and regret instead of anger.”
She started to laugh, but moisture shot out of one nostril. She was horrified. I wiped her nose with the sheet and she started laughing and crying again. “Shit. I’m hideous. Don’t look at me.”
“You could shoot a river of snot out your nose and I’d still be attracted to you.”
She snort-laughed.
“Well that’s just gross,” I said.
She punched my arm. I didn’t even wince. It hurt her knuckles because my muscles are so hard. “Ow.”
I had gone quiet and must have looked very serious.
“What?”
“I don’t want you to feel bad. I don’t want you to regret your choices. I don’t want you to question your choices.”
She shrugged.
“No, it’s important. People make mistakes, bad things happen. You’re a very intelligent person and you’re a good person. We all do things for the wrong reasons sometimes. Every single adult alive made bad choices when they were teenagers—that’s a fact. Every choice we make now is a new opportunity to change things for the better.”
She sniffled. “I think I read that on a calendar once.”
“Shut up.”
“You don’t actually talk like that to your clients, do you?”
“Yes I do, and I believe it and it’s true. Let’s leave the past in the past now. Okay? Let’s be together now.” I kissed her forehead, her damp tear-streaked cheeks, and then the back and the palm of her hand. I felt so good because we’d finally said what needed to be said.
But then she sat up to face me, put her hands on my face and words tumbled from her beautiful mouth: “Brad, I love you. I wanted to tell you first. I mean, I wanted to tell you.”
Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe.
“I think I did in high school too, I just didn’t realize it because it was always so easy to be with you. Nobody ever tells you when you’re a kid that the guy who makes you feel comfortable and good about yourself is the one you should give your heart to.”
Despite what I had said a moment earlier, I was frozen. Frozen in time. I was hearing the words that I’d been dying to hear from her over eight years ago, and it was like a trigger—suddenly I was Fat Brad again. I was waiting for Hot Brad to jump out of the hotel closet, laughing and throwing hot dogs at me, telling me I’d been punked.
She loves you. Tell her you love her. Just say it out loud, you idiot.
“You don’t have to say it back. Really. I just needed to tell you. I’ve been wanting to tell you all day, and now I have.”
Say something.
I rested my forehead against hers. “Thank you. For telling me.”
I’d never said it out loud to anyone who wasn’t family before. I felt it for her. I knew I was in love with her. But I couldn’t bring myself to say it out loud. Once the moment had passed right after she’d said it, it just felt wrong to say it at all.
I blew it.
I’d have to make it up to her big time.
I just didn’t know how.
Or when.
LB was scratching on the door to the other room. I left Vivian to check on her. When I’d returned, Vivian was asleep, or at least pretending to be.
The next morning when I got up at dawn, she was still fast asleep. We had already discussed it on the drive up—she wanted to sleep in while I went surfing at Indian Beach. Otherwise she’d be too worried about sharks and I’d be too worried about her to avoid getting eaten by sharks if there were any.
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