Let Her Go

by Briana Pacheco

  When my hand lands on the waistband of his jeans, popping open the button, Owen’s mouth moves to my neck and he bites me once more. “Fuck,” he groans, licking my skin.

  “Come inside,” I whisper, my fingers touching warm flesh and hard muscles before descending into his jeans. “Please.”

  When I think he’s going to follow my lead after I take a step inside the house, he blindsides me by pulling back, staying outside. I’m breathing like I ran ten miles. He’s smiling at me like he knows what I want but won’t give it to me.

  It’s because he does. I want him. I want him more than I ever did. And that’s still terrifying because we haven’t tried to see if sex is in the cards for us.

  I want him to touch me.

  I want to touch him.

  That’s something I never said about any other man.

  “Goodnight, Zoë.”

  “I hate you,” I breathe. No, I don’t. I could never.

  “I love you.” He steps forward only to kiss my forehead and then he’s walking down the steps, waiting for his Uber.

  I lean against the doorframe, rubbing my thighs together. How can he just leave? Did he not feel what I felt?

  My fingers rub my collarbone twice, and I debate whether or not I should head down these steps and bring him inside. Owen looks up at me, a sexy smile playing on his lips. I’m about to take my first step when a car pulls up in front of Owen. He winks at me before getting into the backseat.

  I shut the door, sighing loudly and then I close my eyes and sink against the door. I think I love him a little more for not coming inside.

  I don’t sleep that night. I stay awake with my fingers on my lips, and my heart busy doing summersaults. The ache between my legs worsens, and there’s nothing I can do but relieve it.

  For the first time in years, I don’t feel bothered by slipping my hand into my underwear while the other kneads my breast.

  For the first time in years, I picture Owen touching me and I hear his voice. Owen’s. Just Owen’s. It undoes me. My body trembles like a mini earthquake is going off underneath my skin. The feeling is euphoric. So I do it again until my body is too weak to deal with another aftershock.

  I close my eyes when the sun is out.

  My morning run can wait.

  Because for the first time in forever I’m not running from anything.

  Owen and I spend the next two weeks going out on dates, acting like a true couple. It’s intoxicating. I live for it. When people say you should date your best friend they’re not lying. It’s the best thing ever. They know so much about you and vice versa. There’s so many inside jokes and you never run out of things to say or do. Nothing is uncomfortable.

  I haven’t had a nightmare in three weeks. I haven’t thought of the devil or felt like I was spiraling into the darkness. He lost his hold on me. Because of this, I cancelled my appointment with my therapist. I want a few more days feeling this good. It’s rare for me.

  When I stare at my reflection in the mirror a girl with bright eyes and rosy cheeks stares back at me. I’m not used to it yet.

  Staring at her now, I hold her gaze and offer her a confident smile. You can do this.

  After Owen and I had dinner we came back to my house to spend some more time together. The sun is setting, adding a romantic feel to the air, and my body has been telling me things I can’t ignore right now.

  I came into the bathroom to freshen up but really it was to look at myself in the mirror and see if the girl staring back at me was ready.

  She is.

  I walk out of the bathroom, heading into my room. I close the door behind me just in case Echo comes home early.

  Owen is spread out on my bed, propped up on his elbows, his eyes on me.

  I push off the door and walk toward him slowly. His eyes travel down to my lips and then my chest, and it feels like he’s carefully igniting the fire underneath my skin.

  When I’m two feet away from the bed I grab the bottom of my shirt and pull it up over my head, dropping it onto the floor. I unbutton my jeans next, pushing them down my legs, doing a little shimmy so I at least look like I know what I’m doing by trying to be sexy.

  I watch his eyes follow my every move.

  My body trembles and I get goose bumps when I let my eyes take him in. He’s still dressed in a black t-shirt and jeans. His biceps look like they want to tear the fabric off from his skin. I follow the veins down his arms and I bite my lip.

  This man is sexy and perfect and he’s mine.

  I climb up onto my bed, crawling up his body until I straddle his waist. My eyes connect to his blue ones while my fingers ghost down his chest, stopping at the button of his jeans.

  I pop it open.

  Owen breaks out into a smile and he reaches for my hand, pulling me forward until I fall on his chest. “You can’t come in here and bite that lip and not kiss me afterward,” he states, capturing my mouth with his.

  Because I am a woman on a mission, I break the kiss and slowly move down his body. I have a post-it note affixed to my mirror, which I’m hoping Owen didn’t see, with give the best blow job of your life written on it. I intend to check it off tonight.

  I’ve spent way too long working up to this moment and I’m ready.

  “Wait, wait, wait,” Owen says quickly, stopping me from heading lower down his body. “Let me get you off first.” He licks his lips and hooks me with an intense blue stare. “Please.”

  How can I say no to that?

  I let him flip me onto my back on my bed and I let myself get taken higher and higher, no ending in sight as his mouth works wonders. I don’t see anyone but him when I look down at him. He winks at me as he finishes me off and that does it for me.

  I can now check off receiving oral sex.

  Now to give it…

  We change positions and Owen laughs at me as I try to pull his jeans down his legs. I might look like a rapid animal right now. I’m clawing at his legs just to get this guy naked. “Sorry,” I chuckle, finally succeeding.

  “It’s fine,” he informs, all smiles with me.

  I straddle his waist and lean forward to kiss his mouth, tasting myself on his lips.

  You can do this.

  My left hand roams down between our bodies and I grab his hard length, stroking him a few times. I’ve never held him in my hand. I’ve only ever felt him over his pants and boxers.

  He’s perfect. Definitely a little thicker than I thought.

  I start to crawl down his body, teasing him with a few randomly placed kisses. And then his dick is in my face and I don’t know why I thought I was going to freak out because all I want to do is make him feel good.

  I look up at him once and his eyes look like they’re trying to tell me I can stop if I want to, that we don’t have to do this. But I don’t want to stop.

  I can do this.

  So I take him into my mouth and I give him the best damn blow job I will ever give.

  Not once do I see or feel someone else but him.

  It’s just us here.

  Like it should be.

  Echo pops her head into my bedroom and creeps inside when she sees I’m still in bed. She throws herself on the empty side and steals my pillow. “Christmas is in nine days and I’m already sick of the damn songs that everyone is playing. Except Silent Night. They can keep that one on repeat and I’ll be okay.”

  I turn on my side and grab the other pillow that Echo refuses to grab every time she’s on my bed. “Well, my body is attacking me for not producing a fetus so who has it worse?” Why do women get cramps?

  Echo forces those eyes of hers on me. When she stares hard enough, I sometimes feel like she’s breaking through. “You, I guess.” She gets a little more comfortable before saying, “I don’t think Holland is coming home for Christmas. Her boyfriend is visiting his parents back in Australia during break so she wants to go with him.”

  “Aw, is that your way of asking me to go in her place?”

  T
he bitch smirks at me. “Mom loves you and all but you need to spend time with your parents. Talking on the phone twice a week isn’t enough. You’re all they have. They miss you.”

  I sigh. “I know.”

  “Are you going to visit the Stevensons?”

  I take a long time to answer because I honestly don’t know. I haven’t been to their house since the accident. I can’t be in that house. I can’t be in Owen’s room. I can’t look at the pictures of a happy family hanging on the wall, and I sure as shit can’t be around them during one of their favorite holidays where they will surely talk about Michael.

  Going to his house will remind me of the accident.

  Of what I did.

  “I don’t know,” I whisper.

  “Too many memories.” I nod. “Do the contacts work?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Owen’s contacts. Do they work? You haven’t had any nightmares.”

  I’m a little stunned by her line of questioning. Ever since Owen and I went on our first date and she learned about the colored contacts, she’s been asking both Owen and I questions about our families. She doesn’t bring up Michael but I’ve noticed that she caught on about how I don’t bring up his name if I talk about the Stevensons. Her eyes narrow slightly and she’ll look over at Owen to see if he caught on too.

  If I’m being honest, I don’t like it. I want her to drop whatever she’s conjuring up in her head.

  “Yeah. They do,” I confess. The contacts work.

  Last night, Owen was over and we got a little physical. Looking down at a pair of blue eyes between my legs didn’t trigger anything. When his hands touched every inch of my body, I trembled in ecstasy. And when I touched him, I didn’t want to stop. So I didn’t.

  “Are you comfortable with him now? Have you tried to have sex?”

  For some reason, I feel myself start to blush and I know Echo sees it with how wide her eyes are getting so I grab my comforter and hide underneath it.

  “Don’t hide from me!” She sneaks under the blanket until our noses are almost touching. I see Mowgli at my feet, staring at us, or more like staring at me and ignoring Echo. Poor girl gets ignored by a cat. “What happened last night? And did Owen do the walk of shame?”

  “Hey, he would not be ashamed after sleeping with me,” I scold. “I’m awesome.” Echo giggles and rubs her hands together. She’s waiting for the juicy details. “We didn’t have sex, but you can say that I now know how big he is.”

  I can still feel him pressed against me, in my hand, in my mouth…

  I never thought I would be able to give a man a blow job considering my past, but I wanted to give one, and I fucking enjoyed it as much as Owen. There is nothing sexier than watching him throw his head back groaning, while feeling his fingers thread through my hair, pulling lightly.

  “God, I can’t wait to see you walking funny after he fucks your brains out.”

  “You know that’s not funny because for a brief moment of my life I did walk funny.” Recovering from the accident was not pleasant.

  Echo pouts and wraps her arm around me. “I wish we were friends when we were younger. I would have loved making fun of your walk.” She giggles then adds, “I love you so much!”

  “Knock knock,” Owen calls out after knocking on my bedroom door. “Uhh…Zoë?”

  “Come jump in with your huge dick, lover boy!” Echo shouts.

  I slap her arm but can’t help but laugh along with her. Owen is still embarrassed that she saw his dick pic. She’s never going to stop teasing him about it.

  Something shifts behind Echo. “Woah! Wrong pussycat. Your little kitty is on the other side.”

  I poke my head out from under the comforter to find Owen snuggled up against Echo’s blanket covered body. His eyes lock on mine and then his cheeks turn a light shade of pink as he crawls over her, being careful not to crush Mowgli, until he’s nestled behind me.

  “I brought you some chocolate, but I don’t have enough for Echo,” he whispers loudly so she can in fact hear him.

  “How much chocolate did you buy?” she asks, uncovering her face rapidly.

  “Five candy bars plus a bag of Lindt.”

  Echo glares at me. “You’re going to share, right?”

  I shake my head. “There’s not enough for you.”

  Her eyes zing to Owen. “If I suck your dick can I get a candy bar?”

  “Jesus Christ, Echo!” Owen blurts, laughing, turning even redder.

  “That’s fucked up. You’d ruin our friendship for a candy bar,” I pout.

  “Priorities,” she smirks.

  What a bitch!

  I lean forward and lick her face.

  “Ewwww!” She pulls back until she’s almost off my bed. “I deserved that. Just don’t do that ever again. That’s fucking disgusting. You licked me.”

  “Don’t ever talk about my dick and sucking in the same sentence,” Owen adds.

  “Whatever. Why are you even here? Don’t you have things to do? Like take a shower? Feed Freddie?”

  “Freddie is a grown man, he can feed himself. And Zoë asked so kindly for chocolate, I couldn’t refuse.”

  Echo’s eyes twinkle. “You threatened cutting off his cock, didn’t you?”

  I nod, sharing a pleased smile with my bestie.

  “He’s been getting me chocolate since I had my first period. Poor guy thought I was going to decapitate him until his mother sent him my way with a bag full of chocolates, a stack of books for him to read to me while I groaned in pain, and a stuffed teddy bear.”

  Echo props her head up on her open palm and watches us for a few fleeting seconds. “Both of you dated other people. Why?”

  “She forced me to,” Owen answers.

  “I wanted him to let me go,” I answer honestly.

  Echo’s eyes are back on mine as Owen pulls me a little closer to him. “He made his life with you.”

  When she looks at Owen, the truth is in her eyes.

  I say it anyways. “I didn’t want to suffocate him, but he was already drowning in me.”

  Both of my best friends look at each other.

  “She’s been reading too many books,” both of them say.

  “Oh, fuck off!” I shout, grabbing my pillow and whipping them both. Once I’m done, I grab Mowgli and bring him closer to my chest. Echo takes advantage of the small distance and lightly runs her finger up and down his furry head. He purrs, which is a big improvement.

  Owen kisses my neck and I let my eyes flutter closed for a few minutes until my body takes a break from internally beating the crap out of me. All three of us talk about nothing and everything until Echo has to leave.

  Owen spends the day in bed with me. When it’s around seven at night and I feel like the world’s laziest piece of shit, I decide to take a bath. I drag Owen into the bathroom to keep me company. He puts down the toilet seat cover and plops down on it with a book of poetry in his hands. It’s one of my favorites, and he asked if I wanted him to read some of them to me. I lifted up onto the tips of my toes, kissed his plush lips and said, “I live for listening to you read to me.”

  The bathtub is big enough for us both, but once my clothes are pooled around our feet he tells me to get in and enjoy being covered in bubbles.

  The warm water is so relaxing my eyes drift closed for a few seconds and a soft sigh leaves my mouth.

  I blink and then shift to my right, watching the handsome man wearing a black t-shirt and grey sweatpants, his blue eyes locked on mine sitting less than a foot away from me.

  He smiles slowly, his eyes trailing down to my lips. “Remember when we went to the zoo when we were nine? Your dad turned his back for two seconds, telling another parent that the exhibit was closing soon and they weren’t letting anyone else inside. I knew how much you wanted to see the butterflies so I told you to follow me. We snuck in by telling that employee that you left something behind. You started fake crying and it worked.” Owen’s eyes travel back up, colliding with m
ine. “You’re looking at me exactly like that time you saw those butterflies.”

  He always did remember the small details of the times we spent together. He saw everything. But he was blinded by love and innocence. He never saw the evil truth.

  Looking at this gentle, kind and loving man sitting before me, I don’t know why my mind tricked itself into seeing evil where it doesn’t belong. Looking at Owen shouldn’t trigger anything related to his father.

  Owen is not Michael. He never will be.

  “I love you,” I whisper.

  His smile gets a little bit bigger. I feel his heart reach out for mine in that moment. He has it. He always has.

  “I love you too, Zo.”

  He doesn’t make a big deal out of those three words. He doesn’t give me shit for saying them so low.

  He accepts me.

  He loves me.

  Maybe he could handle the truth.

  I lift my right arm up and shake off some water and bubbles. I reach out for his left hand and intertwine our fingers. “Read to me before you have to go.”

  Before this turns into a beautiful memory instead of a normal occurrence.

  After break is over and the second semester starts, we won’t be spending so much time together. He has to start his internship at a computer place for sexy nerds. I haven’t decided if I was going to accept mine at a publishing house. Their only available positions are at their New York location. I’d have to do my classes online while I’m across the country for ten weeks.

  He cracks open the book to the first poem. Before he starts reading words about falling in love, dealing with death, depression, and every other emotion a person feels, he tilts his head toward me and says, “I’m always with you. Even if I’m not physically here.”

  I keep my eyes on our hands when his voice fills the bathroom.

  Will you still be here when you find out I killed your father? Will you still be here when you learn what he did to me?

  Will you still love me after you learn that he made me tell him that I loved him right before he laid me down on my bed, spread my legs, and stole my virtue.