by Fiona Cole
I expected her to have a comment about everything I’d just confessed, but she remained mute, staring up at the sky. I hated to ask it, but I needed to know. “What about you, Ana? You ever find anyone?”
She was quiet so long, I didn’t expect her to answer. When she spoke, it was quiet in a painful way and I knew I wasn’t going to like what she was about to say. “I met a guy my sophomore year. He was a senior, really nice guy. We dated for about a year, and I almost moved in with him when he graduated.” She paused and I didn’t comment, instead focusing on relaxing my clenched jaw, preparing for the rest of the story. “I waited a long time to have sex with him. He pushed, but I was scared. What if I didn’t like it? What if it ruined us?” Her sniff punched me in the gut. “It wasn’t great when we had sex. He noticed and I blamed myself. He seemed so concerned, so eager to make it better.”
I had to look away from her when I noticed a tear slip down her temple. Fuck. I should’ve stopped her from talking. I didn’t think I could listen to it.
“I trusted him. So, one night I made him a nice dinner and tried to make it a romantic evening, preparing to tell him. He wanted to please me, so even though I was nervous, I believed him. It umm . . . it didn’t go so well.”
“Ana, you don’t have to tell me.” Maybe it was me being a coward, trying to give her an out. But I should’ve known better. My Ana was strong and didn’t back down.
“No, it’s okay. It’s you, and I’ve always been able to talk to you. I’ve always felt safe with you.” She swallowed and continued. “He was appalled when I told him I wanted to be spanked, or held down and forced. I was too nervous to look up at his face when I told him, that when I heard silence, I just kept going, laying it all out there in front of him. When I looked up, I knew I’d made a mistake. He looked me up and down and asked, ‘You want to be raped?’ I was shocked, because I hadn’t expected him to assume that. I didn’t know what to say, and he just kept going. He said I wasn’t the lady he thought I was and that I was disgusting. I tried to cut in and correct him, but he just got angry, and—”
She choked on the last words and I had to bite back the growl in my throat. I wanted to figure out his name and go to Nashville and ruin his life. Fucking end him. I wanted to pull her into me and hold her and beg her to stop, because while she sat there brave, I felt weak and unable to listen to more. I wanted to go back three years and change everything about how we got to this point.
“He got so worked up,” she continued. “He ended up saying he’d give me what I wanted. By that point, I didn’t want to do anything. I wanted to get out. And when he came at me, I fought him off. He just laughed and said it was what I wanted. Kevin,” she choked out my name and it shattered my heart. “It wasn’t what I wanted. I said no and I meant it.”
Ana began sobbing, and I was fucking done with distance. I moved my chair right next to hers and pulled her into my chest, letting her get it out. Had anyone known? Was this the first time she’d talked about it? “Did you tell anyone?”
She shook her head against my chest. “No. What would I have said? I admitted I liked rough and forceful sex and my boyfriend gave it to me. They would have looked at me the same way he had and said I deserved it. And in a way, I guess I did.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I growled, pulling her head back from my chest and making her look at me. “Don’t you ever say that. There is a difference between consensually agreeing to those things and being forced into them. What he did was wrong, and I don’t ever—ever—want to hear you say you deserved that again.” She nodded and I shook her shoulders. “No. Say it. Say you understand.”
“I understand.”
I wiped her tears and she looked at me the same way she did when we danced in her bedroom after what Sean did to her at prom. Like I was her hero.
She gave me a tight-lipped smile and turned her head to kiss my palm that was cradling her cheek. I laid her back out on her chair right next to me, but didn’t let go. I linked my pinky through hers and let her get herself together. At the same time, I had to get myself together. Hearing her say she deserved it wrecked me and my eyes were on fire with the effort to hold back tears.
“Needless to say, I haven’t tried with anyone else since. Not even a date.” She breathed out a laugh that held no humor. “After a while, I decided I wanted a normal life. I didn’t want to want that anymore. I refused to acknowledge that side of myself. I thought, I’m going to be a teacher and god forbid anyone find out about that. I wanted normal. A normal man I could be happy with.” Each of her words hit me like knives in my chest. My Ana. My person who I’d always shared this with, was telling me she wanted normal, and I didn’t know what to do with that. It hurt and felt like I was losing something important. “But then my mom was diagnosed, and I made the decision to move back here. I didn’t get a chance to even try normal. But being here, I want to focus on her and not take anything too seriously.”
I wasn’t sure if she was just talking, or if she was warning me that she was different, and not to get attached or expect too much from her. I didn’t ask. I let her fall into a silence and kept my pinky linked in hers, squeezing to let her know I heard her and supported her. Even if I didn’t understand it.
Time passed in a blur, and I didn’t know how long we lay there, staring up at the stars, but eventually she sat up, stretching her long limbs.
“It’s getting late and I should head home.”
“Can I drive you home?”
“No, I’ll get an Uber.”
“Okay. You want to get together again next Friday?”
She diverted her eyes to the gravel beneath our feet. “I can’t. I have other plans.”
Andrew. I knew what she meant and I didn’t question her on it. I didn’t want to hear it. I walked her down and made sure she got in the car okay. Watching her drive away, I couldn’t help but wonder if Andrew was the normal she was looking for. If so, where did that leave me?
It’d been a long time since I’d felt a strong dislike for my desires. But knowing it wasn’t what Ana wanted anymore, or at least said what she didn’t want, I felt it then.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ana
I stumbled into my beautifully empty apartment and collapsed on the couch, not even bothering to turn on the lights. As tired as I was, even waving to my roommate would’ve been too much socializing. It was Friday and I should’ve been looking forward to a free weekend, but instead I would be touring cancer clinics with my mom. I’d spent all week researching our options and trying to find the best nurse aide to help her out, like the doctor had recommended earlier this week.
Stage two ovarian cancer.
Four simple words that tore my world apart. It hadn’t helped when the doctor said it was in the earlier stage and they would be aggressive with treatment. We’d found out her diagnosis over the summer, and I’d come home to help take care of her when they removed every female organ in her body.
The doctors seemed hopeful since she had such a positive outlook on life and took good care of herself. They made jokes that she was one of the only patients who put on mascara and lipstick just to sit in a hospital room alone. But that was my mom, the perfect Stepford wife with a heart of gold.
They’d tried medication after her surgery, but when they’d discovered another mass just before Christmas, they’d said it was time for chemotherapy and radiation. Mom had smiled and patted my hand. “Thank goodness I have my Anabelle to take care of me.”
And I had. I always had, but now more than ever. I had to laugh when I thought picking paint colors and planning meals for the week was exhausting. How I wish I could’ve gone back to that instead of choosing the best hospital and doctors to keep my mom alive and comfortable. This was her future, resting in my trembling hands. It was heavy and I was tired.
Being an adult was exhausting.
My phone rang and I barely wiggled it out of my back pocket, unwilling to stand or roll over to get it out.
“
Hello,” I answered on a sigh.
“Ana. Hey.”
“Hey, Andrew. I’m sorry I had to cancel tonight.”
“That’s the thing . . . come over. I know you’re tired and had a rough day dealing with the cancer stuff, but sitting around won’t accomplish anything. Come over and let me take your mind off it.” I heaved a sigh, not liking the idea of getting off the couch. “Come on, Ana-banana.”
His nickname made me chuckle. I agreed because I felt a little crazy and Andrew was stable and made me laugh. I could use some laughter in my life.
I grabbed my keys and headed to Andrew’s. Walking up to his two-story condo, I already felt better. The time we spent together was easy, and I could use a little of that as well. He opened the door before I even had a chance to knock and pulled me in for a hug.
He was a lanky kind of muscular, but a lot taller than me. It was soothing that I fit perfectly beneath his chin. “You feel good in my arms,” he murmured against my hair before releasing me. He leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to my lips, but didn’t push for more, and I appreciated it since I was so exhausted.
I didn’t feel a passion for Andrew. He was attractive with almost black curly hair and brilliant blue eyes. But he didn’t evoke a fire inside me. So far, we hadn’t gone any further than a few make-out sessions, and they always stopped before they got too heated.
He helped me from my jacket, always the gentleman, and hung it up on his coat rack. “I’m glad you came.”
“Me too. I always feel better after I hug you.”
“It should be my new job. Be an expert cuddler.”
“Hey, there’s a market for that.”
“I’ll keep it in mind in case the whole lawyer thing doesn’t work out.” He laughed.
“Don’t forget about me.”
“You can be my manager and number one client.”
“Sold.”
“So, what do you want to eat?” he asked from behind his kitchen counter where he was pulling out menus. Seeing the five or six options laid out before him, I tensed up. I hated making decisions, and I felt like that was all I did lately. I didn’t want to have come to his house only to make more. The snippet of relaxation I had felt being in his arms evaporated, and in its place, I was filled with irrational irritation.
“Whatever you want,” I muttered.
“Tell me, Ana.” He didn’t pick up on my irritation and began waving menus around like fans, continuing the banter from moments before. I was being a bitch, but I couldn’t help it.
“I don’t care,” I snapped. His smile faded and he dropped the menus on the counter. “I’m sorry.” I tried to back pedal. “It’s just been a long day. How about sushi?”
He gave me a pitying look to accompany his smile. “Okay. What kind of sushi do you recommend?”
Thankfully he was looking at the menu and didn’t see my eye roll.
After I had picked out both our meals, he flipped through the channels, letting me decide what we would watch. I also picked the wine we would drink with our sushi. God, I was so tired of choosing.
Surprisingly, by the time we were done eating, I had begun feeling calmer. We sat side-by-side on the couch, laughing at reruns of The Office. Another check in Andrew’s column was how much we had in common. We had a similar sense of humor, watched the same shows, enjoyed the same movies. At lunch, we would compete against each other to see who could go the longest talking only in movie or television quotes. One time we only did it with Friends quotes. He was a good, normal guy. Maybe the kind of normal I had talked to Kevin about last week.
I watched Andrew clean up from our dinner and tried to imagine letting things go further between us. Imagined feeling more than a mild tingle when we kissed. I wondered if Kevin’s kisses would still light me on fire.
I blinked, pulling myself back from that train of thought. Kevin and I had quickly progressed back into a friendship—one I cherished and couldn’t fathom ruining because of our physical attraction.
No. I wanted normal. Someone like Andrew.
He sat back down on the couch, this time pulling my feet into his lap. He wrapped his long fingers around my feet, pressing his thumbs into my instep. He continued the process with each foot as we watched more episodes, except I couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes kept landing on me and not the television, like he had something to say. I tried to ignore it, not wanting to ruin the amazing foot rub he was giving me, but it was inevitable when the credits rolled, and he finally let me know what he was thinking.
“I like you, Ana.”
My whole body froze and I made myself turn to look at him. There were commercials on the screen, and there was no doubt he’d said it loud enough for me to hear. I had no choice but to acknowledge his words.
“I like you too,” I confessed, slowly.
“But . . .” He sensed there was more.
Biting my lips, I chose my words carefully, not wanting to hurt his feelings. “But I have a lot going on right now. I just moved here, and I’m just trying to finish out my final year. Any extra attention I have is going to my mom.” And Kevin, my mind added.
“I understand.” He nodded, his brow furrowed while he processed what I’d said.
“Thank you.”
“How about this? How about you hang out with me and let me take you on dates occasionally. We can take it slow with no pressure for more.”
“Andrew, I can’t make any commitments to you.”
“No commitments,” he agreed. “If you want to date other people, then so be it. We don’t have to be exclusive. Let’s just enjoy each other when we can.”
It sounded so simple and hard to resist, and I didn’t want to. I already enjoyed his company. “That sounds good.”
“Good.”
An infomercial popped on the screen, and I took the break in between episodes to learn more about him. “Have you dated a lot?” I thought back to the girl at the bar hanging on Kevin. She seemed overly friendly with him. Not that I minded, just an observation.
“Some. More when I was younger and just starting college.” His hand had stopped rubbing my feet and rested on the bare skin of my calf, under the opening of my jeans. It was nice, nothing more.
Just nice.
“What about you? You date a lot back at Vanderbilt?”
“Not so much. There was one guy, but it ended.” I swallowed back the bad memories and turned the conversation back to him. “So, what are you looking for in a girl?”
“Hmmm.” He smirked in my direction. “Someone about five-seven, with blond hair and grayish-blue eyes who likes Friends re-runs.”
I shoved him with my foot and laughed. “Other than me, goof. Like what kind of person do you see yourself with? What kind of future?”
“I don’t know. I’ve always seen myself getting married and having a normal life. You know, kids, white picket fence.”
Normal. There was that word again. Grabbing my glass, I took a long pull of my wine and cradled it in my lap, getting more brave and curious with my questions. What did his normal look like? “What’s your dream wife like? Other than me, of course.”
“I don’t know. You’re a hard one to top.” He winked. “But if I had to choose—other than you—I guess the word I’d use is . . . a lady. An example for my kids. Someone who loved me.” My chest pinched when he said a lady. I couldn’t help but remember my previous boyfriend and how he told me how much of a lady I wasn’t. “My family does a lot with charity, brunches at our club, that sort of thing. So typical of rich people, I guess.” Given the way he rolled his eyes, I knew he was joking. “But someone who could be part of that, be active in that role.”
What he described sounded easy and simple, but it was hard to imagine myself there. Taking charge of something didn’t make me think of myself. I remembered my mom’s calendar filled with social events and all she had to focus on while being the perfect Stepford wife. I’d never pictured myself in that role. However, listening to him describ
e that woman—that life—made me want to. I should’ve wanted that.
“What about you? How do you see your future?”
My mind jumped to Kevin, and I remembered the way his hand cracked against my ass, the way his words vibrated through my body, controlling me. I wanted someone to make decisions for me. Someone to own me and set my body on fire with passion. I barely contained a giggle trying to bubble out from between my lips, imagining saying that out loud. I’d done that once, and I sure as hell would never do it again.
I settled on, “Someone who loves me.”
Andrew nodded, seeming impressed with my answer. Done with the conversation for the night, I emptied my glass and moved off the couch. “I should get going. It’s late.”
He walked me to the door and helped me into my jacket. That time when he wrapped his arms around me, it was to prepare me for his kiss. I saw it coming as his hands rested on my hips, and he lowered his head slow enough for me to pull away. I didn’t. I let his lips brush against mine, let him take his time increasing the pressure. When his tongue brushed against my lips, I allowed him entry. Our tongues touched and his moan vibrated against me.
A small spark ignited, and I tried to focus on it, but it faded too quickly for me to hold on to. Instead, there was just contentment and I didn’t care whether I stayed or went. Andrew was a good guy. Why couldn’t I feel more for him?
He pulled back with one last peck and walked me out. “I’ll see you soon.”
A short time later, when I walked up the stoop of my apartment, I noticed a bag sitting in front of my door. Excited and confused about what it could be, I took it inside and tore open the note.
My Ana,
I know today was hard and you won’t do this for yourself. I left a bottle of wine—Moscato, because it’s your favorite—and vanilla bath salts because I love that smell on your skin. Take care of yourself. Pour yourself a glass of wine and take a long, hot bath.