by Lexi Whitlow
I did at night, online, alone. Without my best friend.
I sigh deeply.
I think of that little girl, and the urgency piles on. We need to get into that apartment so she has a place to go, a place that doesn’t terrify her. Doesn’t grind her down, doesn’t ruin her childhood. It’s all worth saving—Liam, Brie. The two of them together.
How did I get into this again?
I think of Liam. The way he makes me moan, legs shaking, brain and body seized with white hot light and energy.
“You’re in for it,” Rhiannon says, pulling me out of my reverie. She crosses her arm and watches me pack up my old pictures. “It’s been what? A couple weeks? And you’re setting down roots.”
“No—it’s not like that. It’ll all be done and over with when the court grants final custody.”
Hands against bare skin. His tongue, inside of me. I shiver when I think of it, the feeling reaching the very base of my spine. And by the way, there’s something else. We’re getting married.
“You say that like you know what you’re talking about,” Rhiannon says. “That shit could take months. I told you that you might be able to help him get custody if you can prove the grandmother is abusing the kid. Even if the girl is saying she doesn’t feel safe, it can take a while to overturn a decision like that. Depends on the judge you get. You could get one who sides with you right away. You could get the one who told Liam he needed a steady relationship, and then you’re golden. Unless he realizes it’s all a sham.”
What if it does take months? Does Liam want me with him that whole time? He said he did.
“Yeah.” I look at her. “I guess I didn’t really think that far ahead.”
“No, you didn’t. But I support you. Especially since I’ve heard about the size of his cock. You are boning him, aren’t you?”
“Uh—” I look down at the picture in my hand. It’s Charlie and me at the beach. His arm is awkwardly over my shoulders. It’s clear to me now that we didn’t even really like each other. “Not yet. We’re not boning yet. There’s plenty of other things going on.”
She pauses and starts picking out a few bras from my drawer. “Okay. That’s weird. I mean, no judgment.”
My heart pounds hard, blood rushing in my ears. “There’s something I didn’t really tell you—a few things actually.”
Rhiannon folds up a couple of my nightshirts and tosses them my way, looking at me expectantly. “Go on.” She says the words carefully.
“Charlie and I—we never—I mean—I never, with anyone.”
“What are you saying?” She raises a perfectly arched eyebrow.
“I’m still a virgin. So, Liam and I are holding off. For now. I mean—I would—with him, right now.” I’m stuttering over my words, and they’re all rushing together in an idiotic jumble. “But I think he’s waiting for dramatic effect.”
“Wait a second—” Rhiannon’s face dropped. It’s the look of someone who’s trust has been broken. But for so many years, I was ashamed. Waiting, wanting. Thinking it would all happen on my wedding night with Charlie, like he’d always promised. “You’re a what now—and you’re waiting to do it with Liam Dougherty?”
“I’m sorry, Rhi. I didn’t tell you. I just—”
“Hey, it’s fine. But girl, maybe you should warm up with someone else. Liam is supposed to be fucking massive. I don’t want to take you to the hospital. And besides, he’s never really stuck around with any chick. That’s what his brother told me. Come to think of it, Finn told me that a few days ago—”
“I know. I don’t expect him to. I’m just helping him because…” There’s not much of a because. “Hey, you’re hanging out with Finn?”
She waves her hand at me. “No. You are not allowed to change the subject. Finn is an old friend from high school. It was never like that at all.”
“If you say so. He’s just as hot as Liam. And Liam is like—” I struggle to find the words.
“He’s like walking sex. Like if God had created sex and made it into a person. I know what you’re getting out of the deal. I’m just worried it’s not enough. It’s not what you deserve, you know? He’s getting his daughter back, and you’re getting sex? A pretend relationship?” She walks over to me and pulls me into her arms, hugging me tight. “I just hope you don’t end up with a broken heart.”
We go back to packing, both silent for a while. After a few minutes, a thought comes to me, and I turn to Rhiannon. “It’s better than nothing at all.”
“What’s better?”
“A broken heart. I mean, I hope that’s not where I’m headed. But it’s better than sitting around this place, waiting for nothing to happen.”
Rhiannon sighs. “Yeah, I know. I get it. I mean, the guy’s a fucking legend.” She shrugs. “Might be fun for your first time. I guess looking at it as an adventure is fine.” Her voice is flat. It’s clear she doesn’t quite believe what she’s saying.
My heart flutters in my chest. When I pause to think about any of it, it doesn’t make sense. So, I’m not pausing, I’m just packing. “He’s a legend now? I thought you only knew of him like, third-hand. And only because you know Finn. It’s not like he’s giving you stories about Liam’s giant cock.”
“So, it’s giant?” She laughs and sorts through some of the perfumes on the top of the dresser. They’ve gone unused the past week. Somehow, I like the scent of my own body better. Like it’s waking up, finally, after years of being silent.
“It’s impressive. Pretty fucking impressive.” I look at her and smile. The blush rises over my cheeks, but I’m getting more used to the idea of being with him. But then I have to remind myself—I might not be. Not for long. Or does he want to keep using me, keep me there so Marta’s people think we’re really married?
“So I’ve heard. From like six women who’ve slept with him. That’s why we got you to the bar to meet him. I didn’t know you were looking for a casual fling for your first time. I thought that was more of a relationship thing. But—like I said, I get it. He’s hot. He just might disappear and start fucking a bunch of other people.”
I nod, sadly. But it’s good to remember that’s who Liam is. He’s not just the single dad who’s putting together a plan to get his daughter back. There’s more to him—he’s also the guy who took me upstairs and introduced me to his mother as his girlfriend. The guy who told three people that we’re engaged, without even proposing. Without discussing any of it beforehand.
And I’m the one keeping it from my best friend. For days, I have. Shit.
“I know. He made that plenty clear. I’m not special. I just happened to walk into the bar on the right night. And I have that conservative look.” I pull a cardigan off my bed and hold it up over my chest. “The one that judges like.”
“Whoa wait. Did he say any of that to your face?” she asks. “Because that’s not cool—” I can tell she’s about to go off on one of her rants.
“No, no he didn’t. He told me it was a temporary arrangement. That it would all get sorted out in the next month. After we’re—”
Married. Say ‘married.’
“So, he told you you’re living together for a month? At least a month? Is he going to be sleeping with other people during that time?” Rhiannon throws a couple of plain white bras in my direction.
“No.” I look down. “I don’t think so. He’ll get bored of me after he gets custody of his daughter. It’s a short-lived thing.” I pick up the bras, exasperated. The bras seem boring and old-fashioned, even though I thought they were cute when I bought them. I shove them in my bag. They’re embarrassing. They’re not the bras of a sexually active twenty-three-year-old woman. They look more like something you’d find in my seventy-year old aunt’s closet. The one who grew old with only cats and cat figurines to keep her company.
I was only a few steps away from a life of cat figurines, I think.
A bra strap flops out of my bag like a limp noodle. I shove it back in. It’s disconcerting t
o feel yourself changing and then find evidence of it right in your hands.
Rhiannon keeps watching me, like she’s observing a species of a strange and rare bird.
“I hate to say it, but he’s playing you.” Rhiannon sits down in the overstuffed chair by my bedroom door, clicking her nails together as if in thought. “But you know that, right? You’re still my smart, witty best friend. The one who talks me out of bad decisions. She’s still in there, right? She hasn’t been replaced with a sex-crazed maniac.”
I shrug and bite my lip. I am a little bit sex-crazed, if I had to put a word on it. Maybe I won’t be after he actually fucks me. It could all fade away, just as quickly as it came. “Yeah, I’m still here.”
She puts her hands to her hips. “You paused.” Rhiannon sighs. “How do you know he won’t leave you with a mountain of debt with that apartment in Queens?”
“Because—he won’t. I’m going out on a limb for him, and he says he’s got me covered. We’re having his lawyer draw up an agreement when we—”
“When ‘we’ what?” Rhiannon looks at me, her eyes searching for a clue about what I’m saying. My stomach churns.
“Well, there are some complications to the hearing, and we need to make a kind of… commitment. Just for a little while.”
Rhiannon frowns and holds up her hand. “Alright. I’m going to stop you right there. I don’t like where this is going—”
“Do you have like, a navy-blue dress?” I purse my lips and look away from Rhiannon, shoving the rest of my clothes into the suitcase, willy-nilly. I didn’t even tell her about the renter we found for this place. It’s brash. It’s stupid. This whole relationship might leave me in a terribly, awfully, shitty situation. It’s not who I am. But I think of Liam, carrying me over the threshold of that apartment, spreading my legs, fucking me against the wall. Finally filling me up, after teasing me, making me wait. Like a game. A game with a very good ending.
Maybe I don’t need to be who I am. Not for right now, anyway.
And he needs his kid. That sweet girl. Something tugs deep at my heartstrings when I think of her.
“Why?” Rhiannon asks, standing up. “Why exactly do I need a dress?”
“A navy-blue dress. I think navy blue looks really good on you. And I like the color. It goes well with purple. Don’t you think?” I won’t meet her eyes.
“Purple what? What are we talking about that’s purple?” Rhiannon puts her hands on her hips.
“Flowers?” It comes out as a question, and I cringe when I say it.
Rhiannon’s face goes pale. Her freckles even turn a shade lighter. But at the same instant, there are footsteps on the stairs outside my apartment.
Good. It’s supposed to be the younger brother. What’s his name—Damian. I think. Helping me move out.
I walk briskly out of the bedroom and to the door, Rhiannon following close behind.
Tell Rhiannon. Their mother is getting the church booked this afternoon. It’ll all be fine, and then it’ll all be over quick. The contract with the lawyer takes care of it.
“I think that’s someone coming to help me move my—”
The doorknob jiggles, and I hear a familiar voice. “Damian couldn’t make it. But I got your back,” it says. When the door swings open, Liam is on the other side, wearing a grin a mile wide.
“I got a ring,” he says. “It’s not much of anything, but it’s nice, you know.” Liam barges in and whips a gold ring with a tiny diamond on it out of his pocket. “Going to look good for the next time Marta comes by. Gotta keep up appearances.”
With Rhiannon watching, mouth agape, Liam pulls me into his arms and deftly slips the ring onto my left hand. And then, he kisses me, draping me over his strong arm. Not a chaste kiss. But a kiss like he means it, like we’re actually doing this. It occurs to me, while his lips melt into mine and his hands work their way down to my ass, that we are actually doing this. In a few days.
“What the fuck is going on here?” Rhiannon looks between the two of us, and we both pull away, like we’re snapping back to reality.
“You’re Rhiannon,” Liam says, extending his hand to shake hers.
She shakes his hand warily, like she’s holding a snake that might bite. “I am.” She raises an eyebrow and glances over at me again. I hide my left hand behind my back. Like that’s going to help anything.
“You’re the maid of honor, right?” Liam asks. “You’ve got a dress, right? Blue or—” Liam looks over at me and snaps his fingers. “Navy blue.”
I groan, and put one hand to my face. Maybe if I stand here like this and don’t move, I’ll melt into the floor, and this will all go away.
“Wait a fucking minute, here, Skye.” Rhiannon steps over to me and pulls my hand away from my face. “You’re getting married? What the fuck? Have you even considered what this is going to do to your parents? To your fucking… life? I’ll say it again. He’s playing you. Using you.”
“She’s helping me out,” Liam says, trying to butt between the two of us. “We’ve got a solid plan.” I hold onto his arm and try to push him away from Rhiannon. I have the terrifying idea of her clawing Liam’s eyes out. Looking over at my friend, I realize it’s a definite possibility. She launches towards Liam, protective and fierce.
“Rhiannon, stop!” I shout at her.
She looks at me with a shocked expression, but she lets her hands drop to her sides. “If I’d thought it would come to this, I wouldn’t have taken you to the bar. Or yelled at you to come meet this girl here.” She says the last word with acid in her voice, looking directly at Liam. “Because she’s my best friend. She’s stood by me through all of my own bullshit, and here she is, making the biggest mistake of her life.”
Liam puts his hands up, as if he’s trying to soothe her. “But it’s temporary. It’s not a permanent decision.”
“That doesn’t change anything.” She looks between us. “It only makes it worse. You realize what you’ve got here, Liam? She’s the absolute best person I know. That’s why she’s doing this. And if I had to guess, she really, really likes you, too. Get what I’m saying?”
We’re all quiet, awkward tension in the air between the three of us.
“You’re coming to the wedding though, right?” Liam asks, breaking the silence. He grins, like none of this has had any effect on him.
Shame and anger burn together in the pit of my stomach. I put my hand over my face and slump back into the old recliner that sits in front of the T.V. “I understand if you don’t want to. I get it. I do,” I say. I look up at Rhiannon. Liam has made himself scarce, looking through a shoebox full of spices that are all probably three years past their expiration date.
Rhiannon sighs heavily. “Yeah, fine. I’ll be there. Of course, I will be. And I do have a dress. It’s like, royal blue. Is that okay?”
I look up at her and nod, smiling. It feels like an accomplishment—telling her, confessing to her. Maybe it’ll help me make sense of it all. “Yeah, that’ll be great.”
She puts her hand on my shoulder. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“I hope so too,” I say. She walks out the door, and I can’t help thinking that she’s the one who should be having the adventure—redheaded, feisty, incredibly passionate. Not me, the little librarian, as Liam says.
When Liam walks back in the room, and I look into his eyes, those feelings fall away like petals.
He’s all mine, even if it’s only for right now.
Even if it doesn’t last.
Tonight, we’ll be alone in our own apartment, and I can keep playing pretend.
Chapter Eleven
Liam
When my brothers come and load up the U-Haul truck, I watch as Skye’s life is moved. It’s all being combined with mine.
The goal is good. It’s for my girl. My baby.
But that girl Rhiannon’s words stick with me. She’s right—Skye is a pawn in a complicated game. I’m the one who put her there, and I didn’t
ask her. Didn’t stop to make sure it was all okay with her.
I watch her. Her eyes are tired from packing all day. But when she stands there on the sidewalk, the sun frames her body. Her curves are illuminated by the late afternoon light. There’s a faint sheen of perspiration on her breasts. The top she’s wearing is V-necked and low-cut. Her cut off jean shorts are just a bit too short, and I can see the tops of her thighs. It makes me think of her sweet pussy, the dark, metallic taste of her. Like pennies, sharp and forbidden. Virginal. I’m the only man who’s tasted that delicate, sweet wetness. My cock swells.
That’s the thing. Looking at her makes me forget that this is all a favor. That it’ll be over soon, and I’ll be in my own apartment in Queens. Skye’s name will be off the lease, the divorce will be rushed through, and we’ll make sure Marta is never getting shit for custody.
For a second, though, I almost forget all of that. Instead, my mind is rushing ahead to the pleasure of getting her alone inside our own place. Spreading her legs, making her scream. Fucking her for the first time, and on all the nights after that.
That stupid fucking guy who got rid of her. Didn’t show her what her body was for. Didn’t he see what he had? If she were mine, really mine, for years to come—I’d fuck her every morning. I’d make sure she was always begging for it. Always wanting it. Tell her not to wear her panties to work. Or—have her go without a bra to the market. Make sure she was feeling it, wanting it, always thinking of me. And only me.
I focus on that thought as I watch the guys load up the truck. And by the time we get back to the apartment in Queens, I’m thinking of only that—not Rhiannon’s reaction to me or all the other bad shit about this being temporary.
The guys are staying around far too long, moving furniture, loading up cabinets.
When they finally leave, Skye is asleep.
I’m roaming the apartment, still thinking of her. The things I could do to her, every day.
I like it here, this place. I won’t admit it, but I do. I think it’s because Skye is in it.