Saving Avery

by Angela Snyder

  I stare at her for a few seconds before turning my attention back to the road. "Me too," I confess. When Gretchen cheated on me, I felt like my world was going to end. But fate has a funny way of working, and it brought me to Avery. I believe wholeheartedly that I'm here for a reason, and that the reason is, without a doubt, Avery.

  Pulling the vehicle into my driveway, I park and kill the engine. The radio stays on, and Sam Smith's Stay With Me filters through the speakers. How very fitting.

  Avery and I sit there, absorbing the lyrics. He's saying the words that I somehow can't muster up the courage to say. I want Avery to stay with me tonight. I don't know what she's thinking, but I'm not ready to let her go yet. I just hope she feels the same way.

  *

  AVERY

  We sit in the car, and the song playing on the radio is almost like fate smacking us right in the face. Stay With Me. I want to stay with Max, but I don't want to say what I'm really feeling. And since I pushed him away earlier, he probably doesn't want to say or do anything to ruin the evening. We've both been holding back. Me especially. And unless I take some control, this night is not going to end the way I want it to.

  His words from earlier come back to me now. Only here. Only now. With me. Swallowing hard, I decide to take the leap. I'll deal with the consequences later. "I don't want to be alone tonight," I whisper, and it's the truth.

  Max looks over at me. "You don't have to be," he whispers back.

  With an unspoken agreement, we both climb out of the car, and Max leads the way to his house. My heart is thumping against my rib cage. I'm so nervous. I don't know what will happen between Max and me. Maybe nothing. Maybe something. But I haven't been intimate with anyone other than Nathan. We met when I was eighteen, and he was my first steady boyfriend. He took my virginity, but he never made love to me. It was always rough from the very beginning with him getting all the pleasure and leaving me with nothing but pain. I wonder if it's always like that. I wonder if it will be like that with Max. I can't imagine Max being rough with me, though. He's too gentle, too sweet and too kind --- the exact opposite of Nathan.

  Perhaps sensing my apprehension, Max turns to me and says, "Avery, you can leave at any time you want."

  I put my hand in his and squeeze, needing to make sure he's actually real and here with me. He's almost too good to be true, and he has no idea what his kindness does to me. It's like every word he speaks fills my empty soul little by little, and he is slowly mending my ruined heart.

  We walk into his house. It's big, quiet and smells like pine. I look at the dirty dishes on the counter and half unpacked boxes scattered throughout the living room and smile. Just one more reminder that he is nothing like Nathan.

  Max catches my gaze and shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans as he rocks back on his heels. "Don't mind the mess," he says nervously.

  "Oh, I don't mind at all. Trust me."

  He gives me a quick tour of the open layout. While he's showing me the big things like the fireplace and his new furniture, I focus on the little things. There are pictures of Max with his friends, souvenirs from Chicago to remind him of home, family photos and so much more that give me a little glimpse into his life. My fingertips linger on a photo frame, and I briefly wonder if someday we will have a picture of us to add to the collection. Hope for something more in my life suddenly blooms in my chest.

  He stands in front of the patio doors that lead to the back porch and stares out the glass. "Do you ever get tired of this view?" he asks quietly.

  "Never," I answer honestly.

  "Do you spend much time on the beach?"

  I frown. "No, not really. Not recently." I've been so depressed that all the things I used to enjoy just seem trivial when I'm completely miserable with almost every aspect of my life. When we first moved here and things weren't so bad, I would spend hours collecting seashells, walking, running and swimming. The only time I spend on the beach now is when I need to vent and release my emotions.

  He opens the French doors and takes a step out into the cool night air. I follow him outside. "Do you hear that?" he asks, his expression serious.

  Listening intently, I shake my head. "No. What is it?"

  "The ocean is calling us," he says with a grin on his face.

  I glance to the water and back to him. "I didn't bring my bathing suit," I whisper.

  "Who says you need one?"

  Before I can even think of a response, he's stripping off his shirt and shoes and running down the steps towards the sand. I watch him as he makes his way into the water, crashing through the waves. A few seconds later he comes running out, yelling at the top of his lungs that the water is freezing.

  A laugh escapes me, and I realize I have been laughing most of the night. I don't remember the last time I laughed so much or been so happy. My fingertips trace the smile on my lips. I haven't smiled this much in ages either. Only here. Only now. His words echo through my mind. Before I can second-guess myself, I'm stripping out of my heels and pulling my blazer and jeans off. Clad in only my shirt and panties, I run down the steps and to the water.

  Max's eyes are wide as he stares at me. He didn't think I would do this. Actually I didn't think I would either. It's so unlike the new Avery, but something the old Avery would have done in a heartbeat with no hesitation. I pass him and run into the strong waves. The water comes up to my chest, and the feeling is exhilarating. It gives me such a rush, and I feel truly alive for the first time in a long time. Squealing and laughing, I run out of the water. "I-I-It is f-f-freezing!" I yell, shuddering from the cold.

  Max catches me in his arms and spins me around. I hold onto him tight until we collapse onto the wet sand. We lie on our backs laughing and panting. Our laughter slowly dies down as we take in the beauty of the scene above us. The clear night sky is bright with a full moon and millions of tiny twinkling stars. It looks like an exquisite painting, and I want to remember it just like this forever.

  "Beautiful," I whisper.

  "Very beautiful," he whispers back.

  I look over at him and realize he's staring at me with a lopsided smile on his handsome face. Even though we've only known each other for a short time, I feel like I've known him forever. The way he looks at me makes me shiver. It's like he's looking right into the depths of my soul, a place no one else has ever been before. I want to get to know him better, so I ask, "Why did you decide to become a doctor?"

  He gets a thoughtful look on his face before he answers. "Well, my dad's a doctor and so was my grandfather, so I guess you could say it runs in the family. My mom and dad are pretty laid back, though. I think they would have been just as proud of me if I had been a professional snowboarder. As long as I'm happy, they're happy. That's all that matters to them."

  "They sound wonderful."

  "They are," he responds.

  I look up at the stars once again. "My mom used to tell me that stars are the souls of everyone on earth who have died and that they twinkle every time they are thinking of their loved ones here on earth. Before she passed away, she told me she would always be up there in the stars watching over me. I was only eight when my mom died, but I remember every single thing about her. She was the sweetest person I have ever met." I feel Max's fingers interlace with mine, and I hold his hand tightly as if he's my lifeline. "I think my dad tried to overcompensate after she was gone. I know he was trying to manage a successful career in politics and had his hands full with two little girls. At some point, though, he lost sight of what was important. We didn't need the big house and the expensive toys. We just wanted to eat dinner and play in the park and go on vacation with our father instead of nannies and babysitters. I feel like he pushed us away when we needed him the most. Even today at lunch when I went to talk to him about divorcing Nathan, he wouldn't listen to me. He's too busy with his campaign and ---." I stop talking when I feel Max's hand tighten around mine. I turn to him, and he has a look on his face that I can't decipher.

  "You'
re divorcing Nathan?" he asks, incredulously.

  I bite into my lower lip nervously. "Yes. I want to, but it's not going to be easy." I release a shuddering breath. "He'll never let me go willingly."

  Max sits up and stares down at me. "Are you going to talk to your father again about it?"

  "I can try. I just don't think he'll understand. He's very good at brushing things under the rug as far as anything that might affect his career."

  He nods slowly. I hate how the conversation turned to Nathan and put a damper on our evening. I want things to be how they were before I brought up the heavy stuff. Slowly, I place my hands on his shoulders. His gaze slides from my eyes down to my lips, and I feel butterflies instantly erupt in my stomach. I haven't felt emotions like this in a long time. Gently, I trail my fingertips down over his muscular chest and rippled abs. His body screams perfection, and I want to feel every inch of it.

  He leans into my touch, and his lips brush softly over mine. He's waiting for me to make a move. And so I do. Inclining my head, I press my lips against his. He tastes and feels so good. He's like a drug, and I am totally addicted.

  The kiss grows more and more demanding as his tongue dips into my mouth. It's velvety soft and slides over mine. My fingertips curl into his shirt, and I pull him even closer to me. I can't get enough of him. I can't get enough of this feeling. I felt empty for so long, and he makes me feel so alive.

  Suddenly, he pulls back. We're both breathing hard, and it takes me a while to catch my breath. "I don't want to push my luck," he whispers.

  I don't want him to stop, but I know we should probably take things slower even though my body is trying to tell me otherwise.

  He stands and offers his hand down to me. When I place my hand in his, he gently hauls me to my feet. His hands linger around my waist, and he gazes down at me with a look of adoration on his face.

  "We're both covered in sand," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

  "Yeah," he agrees.

  "Maybe we should take a shower." Oh, God. What did I just say? "N-not together," I stammer. "You can take a shower, and I can take a shower, but not in the same shower," I ramble on even though I try to force myself to stop. Mortified, I say, "I'll just stop talking now."

  He chuckles. "You can shower in my master bathroom, and I'll take a quick shower in the guest bath."

  I just nod so I don't risk saying anything else embarrassing.

  *

  After hanging up my wet clothes on a rack in the master bath, I scrub my teeth with my index finger and a dollop of his toothpaste I found in the medicine cabinet and rinse with mouthwash. Then I climb into the amazing shower that has two glass walls with a door and a backsplash of brown and beige tile. I turn on the water, and the spray comes out of a large showerhead centered in the middle of the ceiling. I swear that thing is made for elephants, because the spray almost hurts with the amount of force and water that comes out of it.

  I lean partially out of the spray, not wanting to ruin my hair and makeup. My eyes flicker over the small assortment of soaps and shampoos, and I grab a bottle of body wash. Opening the lid, I take a whiff. Mmm. This must be why Max smells so good. It's a very clean scent with a hint of sandalwood. It's very manly, and I have to smile that I'm going to use it and smell like him. I lather up the soap in my hands and set out to rid myself of any trace of sand.

  When I'm done, I rinse off and step out. Max had laid out a few white, oversized, fluffy towels before he left, and I grab one. I dry off and stand in front of the partially steamed mirror. After pulling the bobby pins and clip from my hair, I run my fingers through the long strands and glance at my reflection. What I see makes my stomach drop. "Oh no!" I gasp.

  The tattoo concealer washed off, and in its place are all the bruises I so desperately tried to conceal. Dark purple, blue and green splotches trail down my arms, stomach and legs. I can feel my breathing pick up as I begin to panic. I had gotten lost in the moment and forgot about my past that is so clearly mapped out on my body. I can't let Max see me like this. I grasp onto the sink and try to calm myself down.

  A knock sounds at the door, and I jump. "Avery, did you find everything you need?"

  "Yeah!" I call out, and I can hear the panic in my voice.

  "Is everything okay?"

  I take a deep breath. "Yeah. Just give me a minute."

  "All right," he says, sounding unsure.

  I hang the wet towel up and wrap the other dry towel around me, twisting and tucking the end between my breasts. Tearing my eyes away from my reflection, I open the bathroom door a few inches. I can see Max sitting on the edge of his king-sized sleigh bed. He's only wearing a pair of pajama bottoms, and my mouth instantly dries.

  "Can you…Can you turn off the lights?" I ask. I squeeze my eyes shut and groan inwardly. I hope I don't sound as awkward as I feel.

  He hesitates for only a moment before saying, "Sure." And then he moves to switch off the lamp beside him.

  I turn off the bathroom light and walk out. The room isn't pitch-black because of the full moon shining through the floor-to-ceiling windows, but it will do. I can hear my ragged breaths as I make my way to his bed. I don't think I've ever been so nervous before in my life.

  I stand before him, and Max rests his hands on my hips. My entire body trembles under his touch, and he slowly draws back and buries his hands through his hair. "Avery, we don't have to do anything tonight. I had one of the best nights of my life tonight, and I don't want to ruin it. We can just lie here, or I can walk you home if you'd like. Even though I really don't want you to leave," he says with a grin, "the decision is yours. I don't want to scare you away. And I definitely don’t want to hurt you."

  He's afraid of hurting me, and that is exactly what is holding me back. Fear. Fear of being hurt. But Max is not Nathan. Max is sweet and kind and gentle; and even though it sounds crazy since we haven't known each other for that long, I'm falling in love with him. "You won't hurt me," I say out loud for his benefit as well as mine. I close my eyes for a moment and take a deep breath. "I trust you." The words are surprisingly easy to say, but I doubt he has any idea of the power behind them and the strength it took in order for me to say them.

  He stands and his hand cups my cheek. "We'll move at a pace you can handle. If you want to stop, we'll stop." I lean into his touch, and his thumb skates over my bottom lip. His eyes stare at my lips as he licks his own. "Right now I really want to kiss you."

  I know in that moment that I don't want to stop any of this. I wrap my hands around his neck and pull him down to me. "Then kiss me," I whisper.

  His lips slant over mine in a tender kiss. His hands rest on my hips, unmoving, and I know he's afraid to touch me. I pull back from him and swallow hard. I have never been in the position where I could take control of a situation, especially one like this. The fact that he's not forcing me or hurrying things makes me want him even more.

  I search his eyes with mine. "Touch me, Max."

  "Where, Avery?" he asks, breathlessly.

  "Everywhere," I whisper.

  His fingertips hesitantly trail up around my waist before grasping the material of the towel and pulling me against him. Our bodies meld together, his growing erection digging into my belly. His mouth is on mine again, and a small moan escapes me. His kiss and touch are slow and deliberate. He's not trying to rush anything or take things too far.

  "I want to make you feel good, Avery," he says. "Will you let me do that?"

  "Yes," I answer, my voice throaty.

  His fingers tangle into my hair, and he pulls me closer for a deeper kiss. I hold onto his muscular arms for support as I stand on unsteady legs. His biceps tighten under my touch, and my fingers ache to explore the rest of his body.

  He presses a gentle kiss to my shoulder before pulling away from me. "Lie down," he gently commands.

  Slowly, I move to the middle of the bed. He stands at the edge, looking down at me with hooded eyes. My fingertips are wrapped around the top
of the towel so tightly that I have no doubt my knuckles are white.

  I glance down to where his eyes are focused, and I can see that the lower half of my towel has opened, exposing me. I don't know what possesses me at that moment, but I part my legs to give him a better view.

  I can hear his sharp intake of breath. He wants me. And at this moment, I can't think of anything else in the world I want more than him. I don't speak a word. I let my body do the talking.

  His gentle hand grabs my left leg and raises it to rest on his shoulder as he kneels on the bed. His lips trail kisses down my ankle to my inner thigh, leaving licks of fire in their wake. When his mouth nears my apex, my entire body is shaking with need. Self-doubt slowly creeps in the back of my mind. I've never had anyone do this before, and I start to worry. What if it doesn't feel good? What if he doesn't like doing it to me? The worry builds and nags at the back of my mind, as his mouth grows closer. "Wait. Please," I call out in between pants.

  He stills and lifts his head.

  "I've never…No one has ever…" My voice trails off, and I close my eyes as I can feel my face flush with embarrassment.

  "Hey," he says softly, and I meet his eyes. "It's okay." He plants a soft kiss on my mound, and I shudder. "Don't think. Just relax."

  He plants another kiss before his tongue darts out and laps at my swollen little nub. I groan loudly. It feels exquisite, and he only licked me once.

  "Is this okay?" he whispers.

  All I can do is nod. I don't trust myself to speak, because I don't want him to stop. Ever.

  The moment his tongue trails its way up the length of my slit I involuntarily lift my hips and gasp harshly. He pauses, staring at me. "Avery," he says hoarsely. The way he says my name almost makes me gasp again.

  "Please," I beg him. My voice sounds strange and needy.

  He smiles and settles down on the bed between my legs. He parts my lips with his fingers, and then his tongue laves at my most sensitive area. Just a few licks, and it feels like fireworks are going off in my brain. I moan loudly as he begins his deliciously torturous assault on my clit. My head falls back onto the mattress, and I screw my eyes shut. My fingers curl into the bedding, threatening to rip the sheets underneath me.