by Scott, S. L.
She rolls her eyes. “That means I’m destined to be with half of Manhattan—”
“Please hear me out,” I say, taking her hand and she lets me, looking down at them joined. “I know this sounds crazy but I knew that day was coming. I’d been dreading March 14th for months. The date haunts me, a constant reminder of my biggest failure. It was a few days prior and I worked until eight-thirty, then Jacqueline came by and invited me to a late dinner. I was happy to avoid my place. If I’d gone straight home that night, I would have been drinking until I passed out like I had every day so far that week. Turns out, I did it anyway. You consume me. You have for years, but then when I saw you, I just… I couldn’t believe it. You’d been on my mind and then there you were all beautiful and, God, better than I remember.” I kiss her hand. “Destiny brought us back together and I’m willing to put myself out there for you. I need you to know that I love you. I never stopped. I hurt you, but I love you, Jules. I’m sorry for the pain I caused.” I run my hands through my hair knowing I’m word-vomiting, but still do it. “I’m even sorry for Austin getting fucked over in this mess, but I’m not sorry for pursuing you. I’m not sorry for loving you. I’m not sorry for handing my heart over for you to crush this time. I’m not sorry that you’re standing here right now because I made you think twice about me and I made you question what you want for you. I’m sorry for so many other things, but I’m just not fucking sorry at all for any of that.”
She kisses me. Her lips are on mine and I close my eyes as my mind catches up with my body. My hands take hold of her hips and I tilt my head down and over for a better angle. Our tongues meet as do our hips. Finally, she’s kissing me and I’m kissing her. The shock wears off quickly and I let passion take over just as she has. Her hands smooth over my chest and around my back, down my sides, not stopping, the pace, practically frantic. She’s pushing me backward and I know where this is going, realizing what we’re about to do. I grab her hands and pull back enough to look her in the eyes. “Jules?”
“Shhh, please. I need this. I need you right now. We were always so good this way, Dylan. Please.”
Her voice is so soft, pleading and as I look deep within her eyes, I can see she really does want this, but to give her an out that she might need, I say, “This won’t fix things.”
A small smile crosses her face. “I know… and I want it anyway.”
“It may complicate things even more,” I rationalize.
“I don’t care.” Lifting up, she touches my face, bringing me closer and kissing me again.
I shouldn’t.
I know I shouldn’t.
How can I not though?
How can I resist her?
I can’t. I’m too weak to say no. “Not here.” I pull her down the hall and into my bedroom.
She shoves me against the back of the door and tugs at my shirt. “I want this off.”
I toss it into the darkness of the room while her hands are on my belt, frenzied. It’s quickly undone and on the floor. Pulling her shirt and bra off, she bares her breasts, and presses them against my chest. I want to feel them, grab them, squeeze them, lick them, bite them, fuck them like I used to. My memories have definitely not done them justice. They are way more perfect than I remember. I touch her shoulders as she kisses down my neck, lowering her body as she lowers her pants.
She stands before me a woman now, not the girl I so stupidly left. Little differences are noticeable, but only because I knew her body so well back then. The freckle three inches below her left breast is still prominent against her smooth skin. Her hips have more curves, but her body has less softness to it. She’s tone, thin but more womanly. She’s more confident, not hiding in any way from me. It’s dark in here but our eyes have adjusted quickly. I can see all of her and she doesn’t mind. I think she wants me to see her this way. I think she likes showing me the person she is now.
She’s perfect.
Jules pulls me to the bed, a look of desire on her face. Crawling across the bed first, she tempts me with her ass as she moves. Stretched across my mattress, she calls me to her. Willingly, I go, crawling over her body, hovering, purposely not touching, teasing instead.
Her voice is just a whisper, no smile attached when she asks, “How many women have you slept with since we were together?” Her hand comes up, caressing my neck.
I didn’t expect that question. I don’t know why, but I didn’t. “Um, five.”
“I’ve been with two.”
“I’m aware.” I’m also aware that she’s been with Austin more recently. I know he had a trip to China for most of that time, so I’m assuming it’s been close to a month or longer since they were last together. I’m in no position to judge.“I don’t have a condom,” she says. A hint that it’s up to me.
I don’t know if I do either. Shit. I should check my stash. I reach over and look in the top drawer of the nightstand. “I’ve got one.” As I maneuver back over, I ask, “Are you sure about this?”
“Yes,” she replies. “I want you.”
“I want you too, baby.”
HE ROLLS THE condom down his erection, my eyes following his hands. “God, you’re sexy,” I say, then gasp, clasping my hand over my mouth. I can’t believe I just said that out loud. I close my eyes to help block out the embarrassment that colors me and focus on the silence that surrounds us.
“You think I’m sexy?” Dylan asks. I can hear the smugness in his tone as his fingers slide between my thighs, not wasting any time. My eyes pop open, making me forget why I’m beet red and causing me to squirm when he touches me there. I’m wet. He smiles. “You want me?”
“You doubt that?”
“I wasn’t sure.”
Tonight, his words have been honest, so open with me. “Kiss me, Dylan.”
He does while his fingers beginning to work their magic. But his lips disappear as he slides down my body, leaving a wet trail of kisses in his wake. From between my legs, he glances up at me. I watch and feel as his mouth picks up where his fingers left off. He always knew exactly how to please me. My back arches into the mattress and I lose myself in the ecstasy.
It all feels too good, engulfing me. With bated breath, I say, “This is fucking torture.” The best, most erotic kind, but torture because all I want is him inside of me again. “Dylan, I’ve masturbated to memories of us. Please. I need to feel you inside of me.”
“Shit, you did? I did too.” He pushes my hair away from my face and kisses me unabashedly on the mouth. And then I feel him right there… just where I want him.
When we were together, I would masturbate in front of him, for him. He would come so hard, just as I came. It was a fun and dirty game we played. His lips go to my neck, nipping and kissing as he pushes in abruptly, forcing a moan from me. He looks up. Our eyes lock as he pulls back out, then pushes back in. His eyes weigh heavy like mine.
“I missed you,” I say, but maybe I shouldn’t have. It’s the truth. Can telling the truth be wrong?
“I missed you so much, Jules,” he replies, squeezing his eyes shut.
This is intense—the feelings, emotions, sensations, him. Dylan inside me after so long. It’s overwhelming, dragging me under. But I don’t mind.
This. Right now. This is everything and all that matters.
Almost breathless, I mumble, “You feel so good.”
“You feel amazing.” His response is quick and wanted.
We fit. We fit so perfectly together in this way. We always did. Can we fit together again in other ways? I wonder, but then I don’t because I scold myself for thinking instead of enjoying what we’re sharing right now.
I find his lips and kiss him, my tongue seeking more, which he so easily gives. “Dylan, Dylan, Dylan,” I chant and it feels natural. It’s what my body craves, to shout, to scream again in ecstasy as he hits that spot, remembering exactly how I like it.
“Juliette… Baby.”
There’s a silence that follows, our quiet pants filling the void.
My body reacting to him, his words, and the way he calls me Juliette like he used to. I feel the change in him just as he tenses, worried the moment is ruined. He’s well aware of the name he called out, but for some reason, this time, I don’t mind. “I’m sor—” He starts to say, but I interrupt, “It’s okay. Please don’t stop. Do this for me.”
“I’d do anything for you,” he whispers, looking into my eyes as his hips move to a steady rhythm, caressing my soul with every thrust. Breaking the wall down brick by stubborn brick until I feel the exposure, the light invades with love, or something like it. Our bodies are vessels to connect when our souls can’t yet. I realize this now. I realize that I might still love him. I still want him, more than just physically. It’s wrong, but feels so right, right this second.
His hands are on me, his fingers rubbing in a way that send me into an abyss I’ve avoided for too long. “Dylan!” Just one word as I sink beneath, drowning in emotions I haven’t felt in years.
Dylan grunts, then groans, saying my name and other endearments as he comes. A series of small thrusts push him to a breaking point that makes me feel alive, worthy, forgiving, and meant to be.
Hearts racing.
Sweating.
He rolls over, bringing me with him. As I lay draped across his chest, I listen to his heartbeat—powerful, comforting, his hand rubbing my back, soothing. My lids are heavy as they lift to see the time on the nightstand in the dark bedroom.
1:30 a.m.
I give in, maybe not entirely to Dylan, but to sleep in his arms.
7:04 A.M.
Dylan.
I can feel him.
I can smell him.
I can smell us all around.
Strong and calming, frightening and troublesome.
My eyes open to find I’m curled into his side, my head on his shoulder. My naked body is against the side of his very naked and sexy body. I smile feeling his cock harden under my arm, ready for more. My thigh is over his, his arms around me.
Tilting my head up, I see his face with his eyes still closed. My stomach clenches seeing the bruising, the small cut, speckles of dried blood still visible. His breathing is regular and his lips slightly parted. He’s nothing less than beautiful even with the damage.
Fuck, now I want him again.
I should leave, needing time to process what happened between us and what happened between me and Austin.
Austin. I sigh. I shouldn’t be in bed with Dylan while thinking of him. It’s rude to both of them, so I slip out from under his arm and replace my body with a pillow. Dylan snuggles into it, exhausted. He needs his rest to help heal.
I use the restroom and wash my face, cleaning up as much as I can with a towel. Afterward, I open the door slowly, turning the knob. I shut it behind me quietly and quickly, hoping I don’t disturb him.
Sometime in the night, he dried my clothes for me, making me feel cared for. I pull the clothes out of the dryer and slip them on before heading for the door. I’m startled when the coffee pot percolates to life, the timer chiming. I walk into the kitchen tempted to have a cup, but I don’t want to steal a mug, although he didn’t have the same courtesy. Standing there staring at the coffee maker drags all the emotions I’d been suppressing back to the surface. My eyes burn from the threatening tears and lack of proper sleep.
When I reopen them, I see a letter on the counter near the coffeepot. It’s from Dylan’s mother. My heart races, remembering how much I miss her, thinking about our emails over the years, that bond still there. I lost more than Dylan when he walked out on me. It makes me wonder with all that’s left to resolve, if it’s possible to overcome the past to have a future together.
AFTER SLIPPING IN the building door just as a neighbor exits, I trudge up the stairs that lead to my apartment and check the knob, hoping it’s unlocked. I can’t remember if I locked it or not before I was whisked away so quickly yesterday. When I check, it’s locked and I don’t have my purse. I hate having to do this, but I walk down the hall to the only other apartment on this floor and knock. While waiting, exhaustion sets in. I slide down the wall to sit.
The door creaks open. Since I woke Brandon up, he looks sleepy. “What are you doing?” he asks.
“I want to sleep, but my apartment is locked and I don’t have a key.”
He helps me to my feet, then says, “I’ll get it.”
I watch as he disappears into the kitchen. He’s wearing only boxers. We’re beyond the necessity to dress for each other, especially at this hour. He returns, handing me a key. “Hey Jules, Austin dropped his key off. Said he had to go to London. You weren’t home sooo…”
I take it from him like it’s the most foreign object I’ve ever seen. “Did he say anything?”
“He said he thought you’d want it back. Not much else,” he adds, scratching the back of his neck. “Where’d you stay last night?”
Nodding to my right, I reply, “I’m gonna go.”
He knows not to ask too many questions, but he still offers, “I’m here… you know the drill. If you need me or anything.”
“Thanks.”
I turn back to my apartment, walking slowly toward it, wondering what I’m going to find in there if anything. I hear Brandon’s door shut behind me just as I stick the key in, my hand shaking.
When I open the door, I see all my belongings have been returned. The haul of a small moving truck sits in the middle of my living room. The big furniture pieces back in their rightful places which means he directed the movers to do so. My heart aches, but I step closer to the pile of boxes stacked in the middle. I see the painting hanging on the wall, my suitcase and purse where I left them.
My life has been whittled down to an apartment of stuff, most of which I don’t even care about, things that don’t mean a thing to me anymore.
Looking around again, I notice a note on top of my purse. Bending down, I read it.
Jules,
I love you.
Austin
Sitting down on the couch, I fall to the side, closing my eyes to stop the tears that are welling. Finally, I give into the crushing emotions I’ve managed to keep at bay and do what I should have done yesterday instead of sleeping with Dylan. I cry.
I’ve hurt Austin. He’s the man who would have given me the world, but I hurt him and then… then I slept with Dylan. Grabbing a pillow, I hold onto it, squeezing it to me and willing this endless sequence of pain Dylan and I started to end.
The door clicks as it’s opened. I know who it is, so I don’t bother hiding my emotions or even looking up. “Jules?” The couch dips next to my head. Brandon’s voice is soft, whispering near my ear as his hand touches my cheek, revealing my tears. “Come here,” he says. I lift my head up and lay it back down on his lap. “It’ll be alright. I promise, Jules. It’ll be alright.”
“I wish this would all go away.”
“I know. It will look different after you get some rest.” He strokes my back and I find safety in my closest friend.
I must’ve dozed off. When I wake, I sit up, my body sore and my heart still broken, but I think of Dylan and a small smile involuntarily appears.
“So, what’s the deal?” Brandon asks. “What’s really going on?”
Looking over at him, I sigh and decide to tell the truth because it would take too much energy to lie, energy I don’t have. “Austin and I broke up.” I wait for the comment—a reprimand, or scolding. A judgment even.
But nothing like that comes. Instead, he says, “I figured as much when he returned your stuff and gave me the key to give back.”
“And I slept with Dylan.”
Once again, I wait for him to comment, a voiced disappointment. But that doesn’t come either. He looks at me and asks, “Are you back together?”
“No. I don’t know. Maybe.”
His brow furrows and I can see the judgment caught in the lines of his forehead. “What are you doing, Jules?”
“Everything is moving too fast. I don’t k
now what I’m doing anymore, my life is spinning out of control.”
“Then get off the merry-go-round. This all started when Dylan came back into your life. What if he hadn’t? Would you be living with Austin right now?”
“Brandon, please.”
“I’m not gonna pressure you one way or the other. But here’s what I know. I don’t like to see you hurt, but this time, I think you need to figure this one out on your own.”
With a heavy exhale, I reply, “Yeah, I’m coming to that same conclusion.”
He stands, adjusting his shorts at the waist. “You know you’re never really alone though, right?”
I stand to walk him out. “Thanks for being my friend when I need it most.” I hug him, throwing myself into his arms and trying to show how important he is in my life through the embrace.
Brandon kisses my head and holds me, then turns and goes. He looks back when I say, “Hey Brandon, thank you and… and… I love you.”
“I love you too, girl.”
He’s the closest thing to family I have in the city and even though I’d love for him to come take charge and tell me what I should do, he’s right, he can’t rescue me this time. I’m going to have to save myself.
I KEEP CALLING, but she won’t answer. I know she’s probably sleeping because she sure as damn didn’t get much sleep last night.
My mind is still fucked sideways over the fact that we had sex. When I woke up, Jules was gone. Her clothes and her… gone, her absence felt before I opened my eyes. She might as well have stabbed me because it felt the same at that point.