by Mona Kasten
My eyes were squeezed shut but some drops landed on my chin. “You’re completely out of your mind.”
He laughed and wiped his face. Then he clapped both palms on the water like a splashing child. His eyes sparkled as I wiped the water from my cheeks—it only made everything worse. And out of the blue, I felt a desire to kiss him. All I had to do was bend over, just a tiny bit. That’s all.
“In my opinion, Dawn is still not wet enough,” came Monica’s serious tone from behind us. Another wave of water hit me. Great, now my top was wet, too.
“I don’t think we can let this go unpunished, can we, Dawn?” Spencer asked and his grin got wider.
His smile was real. All the worry had disappeared from his face and it wasn’t a mask: Whatever had been bothering him, our time together had helped distract him. If that was what he needed, I’d do everything in my power to help him.
I leaned on the edge of the fountain and stood up.
“Absolutely not.”
The next moment we were involved in a serious water fight, which got so bad, we were thrown out of the botanical garden for good.
Chapter 23
My new story was titled About Us, because nothing better came to mind. By now I’d gotten used to it—even liked it, because it was so concise and meaningful.
Spencer was the inspiration for About Us. This was different from my past projects. Usually, I invented everything in my stories. But this story was… special. Less sexy. Deeper. More honest. It reflected my own feelings and almost functioned as a diary for me.
The main character was Mackenzie, a literature student, and her best friend Tristan, a freelance artist. Their story takes place over a decade, during which time their friendship is tested repeatedly. Eventually it turns into something more, but it takes a while for Mackenzie to give in to the electricity between her and Tristan. She’s afraid, scarred by her past, and has forgotten how to trust other people. Until Tristan slowly teaches her again.
It was good that we didn’t have any Internet at the weekend house. Usually I would post something for my readers, a taste of what I was working on, but this time it was different. I felt vulnerable. Perhaps because this narrative voice was totally new for me. I didn’t yet know whether I would ever publish this story. I wanted to keep Mackenzie and Tristan for myself as long as possible.
Which is why I didn’t take Watson out until I was sure everyone else had turned in for the night.
A loud ringtone interrupted my concentration. I took Watson off my lap and set him on the coffee table, and looked around for the source of the ringing.
Right next to the side table where Ethan had left some of his things, a smartphone display was flashing, casting a faint, bluish light against the wall. I moved Ethan’s stuff and immediately felt the urge to cover my ears. The ringing was much too loud, and I tapped around the display for a way to turn it down. I must’ve pushed the wrong button.
“Hello?” I heard a voice.
“Shit,” I hissed and raised the phone to my ear. “Um… hello?”
“Who’s this?” asked a woman who sounded vaguely familiar. A loud crashing sound came from her end of the line.
The next second the phone was ripped from my hand. I nearly had a heart attack.
Spencer looked at me angrily, then took a deep breath and lifted the phone to his ear. “Mom?”
Of course: it was Mrs. Cosgrove.
“Do you want me to come home?”
His mother’s voice was fast and piercing; I could hear it even as Spencer moved farther away.
“Okay. Put me on speaker. No, not where she can reach it.” His tone became authoritative. It sounded like he’d done this many times before. His back and shoulders looked stiff. He was only wearing his boxer shorts and his black hair was mussed—he must’ve already been asleep.
“Hello, little Olive.” Now he was speaking softly. As if speaking to a shy animal. Soft and deep and warm.
Again I heard crashing and rattling sounds through the phone. And another voice, but I didn’t understand anything. Just shrill noises.
“Olivia, calm down. You don’t have to say anything. Take it easy.” Spencer’s tone became urgent. His body was still tense. I just stood by the side table, feeling completely useless.
“Don’t you remember? I told you yesterday that I’m out of town this week. With friends, at Coos Bay. We visited the State Park today, and in the end we were thrown out. Should I tell you why?”
This time no sound came out of the phone. So Spencer started to talk about the trip, how Monica and Ethan were making out in the backseat; he added some descriptive sounds. He described the house and the room he’d chosen. And then described our afternoon at the park.
“And then I wanted to throw Dawn into the water, but she tried to wimp out.” He looked over his shoulder at me, his expression unreadable. “No, actually she’s not a coward.”
If he only knew.
“I can understand why she didn’t want to go into the fountain. The water was green and icky; when I took a shower little bits of algae came out of my hair.” He gave a little shiver, and I thought I could hear Olivia’s voice in response.
But I still couldn’t make out what she said.
“Someday I’ll take you there and show you the fountain. And the flowers. It was so colorful there; it was impossible to take it all in.”
There was a pause, during which Spencer waited patiently, drawing deep and steady breaths.
“No. We’ll leave Dad at home.” He laughed, but it didn’t sound wholehearted. “Mom sent me a picture of the painting you did at school. It really turned out great.”
His shoulders were still hunched, and I couldn’t hold back any longer. Slowly I stepped behind him. Hesitating for a moment, I then wrapped my arms around his belly from behind. I pressed my cheek against his taut back muscles and breathed deeply. He smelled of sleep and traces of botanical garden.
At first nothing changed, but then he put his free hand on my arms and leaned back against me.
Now I could hear Olivia’s voice. She spoke slowly, with lots of pauses. She sounded really young.
“Sure, I’ll call back tomorrow. But only if you go to bed and stop upsetting Mom.”
Olivia seemed satisfied with that, because shortly afterward Spencer said, “Good night, little Olive,” and hung up the phone.
He dropped his arm. Neither of us moved. After what seemed like an infinitely long moment, he detached himself from my embrace and turned to face me. His gaze was dark and impenetrable, but his smile was soft.
“Do you want to be alone?” My voice was barely audible.
He shook his head slightly.
“Okay.”
His gaze traveled down to my mouth and became even darker. Instinctively, I stood on my tiptoes, put my hands on his cheeks and stroked them with my thumbs. Spencer leaned his forehead against mine and closed his eyes. And that’s how we stayed until his breathing calmed. Carefully, I leaned forward and pressed my lips against the corner of his mouth. Spencer tightened his grip on my hips. I kissed the other corner of his mouth before placing my lips fully against his. Just for a second, and lightly. When I began to pull back, he growled softly and dug his fingers into my skin. Then he pulled me close. His tongue parted my lips and there was nothing timid about his touch. He put both hands under my thin shirt and moaned as he felt my skin.
It seemed he didn’t want to be by himself or talk; he just wanted to blow off steam. And I was fine with that.
I separated myself from him and reached for his hand, leading the way into his room. Once inside, I let him pass me and then closed the door behind us.
It was dark. At first, I could only make out Spencer’s silhouette, but gradually my eyes began to adjust. Without thinking much about it, I pulled off my top and dropped my shorts to the floor. Then he was st
anding right in front of me, taking my hands and holding them above my head. He pressed his body against me and I felt his firm chest against my skin. My nipples hardened instantly. He grunted and lowered his lips to my throat, just as I bent to kiss his chest. I let my teeth slide over his collarbone and sucked his skin between my lips. He tasted freshly showered, clean and warm.
Spencer released my hands and ran his fingers through my hair. He tilted my head back so he could kiss me deeper. In each touch I felt his despair, understood what was going on inside him without his having to say a word. Every urgent kiss was revealing. I could almost taste his pain and sorrow.
I reached out and gently pulled on the waistband of his boxers, letting my hand slip inside and down to his hot erection.
Abruptly, he drew back. His chest grazed mine, his breath was jagged. “Dawn, I can’t think straight right now. If you go on like this, then…” He gasped as I let my hand glide up and down.
“I want you to forget everything,” I whispered.
He emitted a tortured moan. “Then you’re doing pretty well.”
He braced himself with one hand on the door. With each touch from me, he arched his pelvis forward. I kept going until he had to muffle his moaning against my neck. The next moment, I had pulled his boxer shorts down. He stepped out of them and drew me close. Limbs entangled, we stumbled toward the bed, only pausing for Spencer to grab his wallet from the nightstand and dig out a condom. In no time, my panties lay on the floor, and he was pulling me over him.
“I want you on top of me,” he whispered.
At this moment he could have asked me for anything, and I would have given it, gladly. His member was pressing against my opening, and I gasped. I wanted him, at least as much as he seemed to need me. Slowly I lowered my hips, bit by bit, without taking my eyes off his face. Even in the dark, I could see his eyes shining. Spencer threw one arm around me and with the other hand he cupped one of my breasts. I gave a soft whimper and pressed my hips down farther. He started stroking my breast and then kneaded it gently. Instinctively, I lifted up a bit and then let myself sink back down on him. He was so deep inside me—I could barely breathe.
Spencer grasped me tightly around the hips and helped me find a rhythm. With my every downward motion, he lifted his pelvis upward until he suddenly touched that very special spot.
“Oh, God.” I sank my face into his shoulder to avoid making any noise.
He immediately slid his fingers into my hair and gently but firmly tipped my head back.
“No. I want to hear you,” he said and all the gentleness was gone from his voice.
His commanding tone made my muscles contract around him.
He drew in a breath through his teeth.
“Fuck, Dawn.”
I took him deeper inside. This time I didn’t hold back; I let him really hear what he was doing to me. Spencer pressed his fingers into my sides and guided my motions. I surrendered completely to him, letting him go deeper than ever before. Way down inside me, a tension was building that was so strong, it made me see stars. I could hardly breathe, the sensations were that overpowering. He took my nipple between his teeth, lifted his hips again in that particular way, and I flew to the heavens.
Wrapped around him, I clutched his shoulders as lights exploded inside me. Spencer trembled under my body, pressed his face against my shoulder and gasped my name.
I stroked his hair and put my other hand on his neck, feeling his heartbeat. I drank in the moment and held on tight. There was nothing wrong with this feeling, nothing scary. This was Spencer. My Spencer.
I kissed his hair and his cheeks and then tipped his head back to press my lips on his. Our kiss was lazy and full. All Spencer’s tension had evaporated. So had his despair. At least for now.
We didn’t speak. Not when Spencer let himself sink back against his pillow and pulled me down with him. Not when he wrapped his arms around me and held me. Not when we kissed again, building force into a storm. We didn’t speak as we tumbled together again, this time Spencer taking me from behind. The only sound in the room was our breathing, the sounds of our bodies moving together and my moans, which I tried to muffle in his pillow this time, lest I wake up the entire house.
We still said nothing when I stood up in the middle of the night and got dressed. Spencer sat up and pulled me to him one more time. He played with a strand of my hair, which just a short while earlier had been wrapped around his fist. I was about to speak when Spencer shook his head and kissed me softly. I left his room and disappeared into my own.
The rest of the weekend passed like a dream. We all got out and explored, walking until our feet were sore.
Monica, Ethan and I took turns cooking. Kaden and Allie seemed so much in love that I would’ve gotten sick of watching them if I hadn’t adored them. And Spencer… was Spencer. His anger and depression had lifted. He cracked jokes and made everyone laugh. Gradually I came to accept his happiness as genuine. This was what worked for him. It was better than spending the whole time brooding about what was happening back at home.
While our friends were around, nothing had changed between us. At least that’s what we let them think. We fooled around and tried our very best to ignore the electricity between us. But as soon as the others had withdrawn to their rooms and we found ourselves alone together, all bets were off.
Chapter 24
Our bungalow in Beaverton had always been home. Since I could remember, the little gray house with the white wooden balcony was my escape. That had changed when I came back after the debacle with Nate. Sure, it was still my home. But it felt different. The cheery pink walls seemed to laugh at me. As did the many photos of Nate and me, pinned to my bulletin boards. I swept through my room like a tornado and ripped them all down. Everything that had to do with Nate landed in a huge pile, which I would have preferred to burn. But I had to keep up appearances for my dad, and a blazing bonfire would’ve raised questions.
Today, I pinned up pictures of my new friends from Woodshill on my two corkboards. We looked pretty damn happy, and a wave of gratefulness overcame me. I’d never expected to get in with a group of friends so quickly.
Our trip had been a total success, though my legs were still sore thanks to Kaden. He could have been a personal trainer—like a drill sergeant who yelled at you when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore. Not an experience I was eager to repeat any time soon.
But maybe my sore muscles were more to do with what Spencer and I had done after hours. While we’d kept a good distance from each other during the day, we’d jumped on each other at night, as if we both hadn’t gotten any for years. At first I was skeptical that a “friendship with benefits” could actually work, but it did. And pretty well, at that. Even better than “pretty well.” Spencer was just… amazing.
“Looks good,” came Dad’s voice from behind me. “It’s been a while since you updated those boards.”
“True.” I hadn’t given it much thought. I used to cut and paste things together all the time. But I’d lost interest in colorful, cheerful things after my divorce. Whenever I had scissors or craft paper in my hand, my mind would return to the thank-you cards I had planned for our wedding gifts.
Dad draped an arm over my shoulder as if reading my thoughts. We walked back to the living room together.
“Dawny, I wanted to tell you something else, and I hope it won’t upset you.”
“Oh, God, what happened? Dad, don’t tell me you’re sick.”
“Actually, I just wanted to tell you that I…” He cleared his throat. “I met someone.”
A sigh of relief escaped me, and I jabbed an elbow in his ribs. “Dad, that is fantastic news! Tell me everything!”
“C’mere, sit down,” Dad said, pointing to the living room couch. He let me take a sip of his homemade lemonade and sat beside me.
“Okay, so how did you meet? And what�
��s her name?”
“Her name’s Maureen. We met at the workshop. She had ordered a built-in closet, and while I was taking the measurements, something clicked between us.” Dad’s cheeks had turned pink.
It was so cute!
“And how long has it been going on?” I asked.
“About a month and a half. I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure it was something serious.”
My smile went from ear to ear. “Oh, Dad. I’m so happy for you! Now tell me about Maureen. Everything about her, from A to Z.”
Dad sipped from his glass. “Well, I was thinking it would be nice for you to ask her yourself. We’re having dinner with her and her daughter tonight.”
“What? Dad!”
“I’m sorry,” he rushed to say. “I didn’t know how to tell you on the phone, so I kept putting it off, and now… she should be here any minute.”
“For heaven’s sake, Dad! You can’t just make plans like this without warning me. I’m basically in pajamas,” I said, looking down at myself. It was true: I’d grabbed the first thing I found in my dresser. Today was laundry day. That meant I was wearing leggings and an oversized shirt. My hair was loosely braided and several strands had come out.
As if on cue, the doorbell rang and I froze. I’d driven home because my class had been canceled and I thought Dad and I could hang out together. I hadn’t known I was going to be meeting my future stepmother.
My father stood. “Please be nice to them.”
He left me there while he hurried to the front door.
With a rough gesture, I rubbed my face and dearly hoped I wouldn’t make things worse.
Through the hall came the sound of the door opening, and then the voices of women. I got up as the three of them came closer. Dad entered the room first; just behind him was a stunning woman with short, black hair.
“You must be Dawn,” she said, approaching me with a smile.