by ANDREA SMITH
They had made plans for New Year’s Eve. Dinner and then to a party at another fraternity house. They would have a perfect time to talk about their respective plans for the fall over dinner.
Or so he had thought.
Chapter 51
Two boxes.
That would be the amount of tissues that Eva has gone through since her return from Pittsburgh.
I discovered she was back on accident when I got back to the apartment after my shift at Big Daddy’s to see her coat and boots strewn just inside the front door. Generally, Eva is a stickler for neatness.
I poked my head into her bedroom and that’s when I was clued in to the fact that something was wrong.
Very wrong.
And it could only be about Marcus judging by the flood of tears she had going.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Nothing. I---I can’t talk about it right now, Peyton. I just need to be alone for a bit, okay?”
“Okay,” I replied, walking towards the door of her room.
“Where are you going?” she all but shrieked at me.
And so I turned back, sat down on the bed, and listened like any best friend would as Eva cried, sobbed, ranted, and basically imploded before my eyes over what she termed was her ‘fatal strategic mistake’ with Marcus.
Yes, Eva so wanted to talk about it.
“I don’t understand,” I say, watching as Eva blows her nose for about the tenth time since she decided to share the despair.
“I used the…L word, Pey.”
“I don’t understand,” I reply, pushing a lock of her hair from her damp cheeks.
“I told him I loved him!”
My mind quickly tries to process the severity of what she’s just admitted to me, but all I can think about is that line from About Last Night: ‘Was that before or after you came?’ (Bernie to Dan).
Of course, I do not say that to Eva, but I can’t help what pops into my mind now, can I?
“Well, aren’t you going to say something? Tell me what an idiot I am for saying it first?” she asks, her voice sounding every bit as raw and husky as Demi Moore’s in said movie.
“No, of course not,” I reply. “There’s nothing wrong with being honest about your feelings, Eva.”
“Yeah, right. As long as you keep them to yourself, I guess.”
“What did Marcus say?” I ask softly.
She sniffles, putting a wadded up tissue to the corner of her eye to wipe away the running mascara. “It’s what he didn’t say, Peyton. He never said it back, and the silence was crushing.”
“Now wait a minute,” I continue, “there has to be more to it than that. Are you telling me the rest of the trip was spent in silence?”
She shakes her head, placing her hands in her lap, twisting the tissue into shreds. “Well, of course we talked,” she replies. “I told him I loved him while we were still at Mom and Dad’s and he kissed me after, but he didn’t say it back. Then, today on our drive, he said we needed to talk.”
Oh God. That’s never a good thing.
“Yeah, I know,” she replies, totally reading my expression.
“Okay, so tell me about the talk.”
She sniffles and continues, “Well, he wasn’t a dick or anything. He told me that he cares a lot for me. In fact, he said probably more than he’s ever cared for any other girl.”
“Well, see?”
“But,” she continues, “he said that he has a lot of things to accomplish before he can allow himself the luxury of falling in love with anyone. Grad school, law school, the bar---this whole plan he has detailed out for himself that allows no deviations apparently!”
She sobs loudly again, and I put an arm around her, and give her a solid hug. “Shhh, now, hun, this is not bad news at all.”
She pulls back, wiping the tears and looks at me as if I’m insane. “Are you serious?”
“Look,” I say, “Did he say he doesn’t want to see you anymore?”
“Well, no.”
“Did he say you should both see other people as well?”
“No.”
“So, what’s the big deal then? Just don’t toss him the L word again and things should settle back down, right?”
She shakes her head furiously. “You are totally clueless as to how relationships work, aren’t you?”
She has me there. I am certainly not a person who has any experience with this sort of thing. I think about the number of times Stuart and I exchanged the L word and, to be honest, it didn’t seem to be that big of a deal. He was the first to say it and I just figured the appropriate thing to do was to return the declaration.
“I am clueless; I admit it,” I reply, and then I realize that I never really loved Stuart. I was never “in love” with Stuart. I simply felt content that a man liked Stuart appreciated me and respected me, and nothing more than that mattered. I had never shed tears the way that Eva was doing right now over Marcus. My tears were more about my failure than about Stuart.
“He says he wants to slow things down,” she says. “How does that work?”
“I don’t know,” I reply honestly. “How do you think it works?”
She jumps up off the bed. “I’ll tell you how it works, so take notes. You just might need them for future reference. It means that he sets the rules. He decides when we go out, how often we get together, and he sets the tempo of the relationship. It means I’m on call.”
“On call?”
“Bootie call,” she snaps, grabbing the brush from her dresser and furiously brushing out her tangled hair. “But guess what?”
“What?” I ask tentatively, totally amazed at how quickly she has morphed from helpless victim to determined and empowered woman-on-a-mission.
“I am nobody’s hoochie! He wants to take it slow? Fine. We’ll take it as slow as he wants, but you know what?”
“What?” I ask cautiously, because she’s scaring the shit out of me right now. I’ve never seen Eva’s eyes blaze red before.
“No bootay! None. Nada!”
“Umm, what exactly is bootay?” I ask, quizzically.
“Oh, Dear God, Peyton! It’s French for ‘bootie.’ Can you please get with the program here?”
“Wait. Rewind. So, you’re going to continue to see Marcus, on his terms, but no sex, is that what you’re saying?”
“Bingo!”
“But I thought you really enjoyed the sex? I mean, you’ve given me play-by-play accounts of it for shit’s sake, Eva. What gives?”
She rolls her eyes as if this should be so obvious to me, but the truth is, why would she want to deny herself something that by all accounts, brings her incredible pleasure?
“Remember back when I first started dating Marcus and I told you how I wanted to extend the magical part of it, so I delayed jumping in the sack with him?”
I nod.
“Well, my mistake was not delaying it even longer. By taking our relationship back to the pre-sex point, I’m pretty sure it will infuse that magical feeling back into it.”
“I disagree.”
“Why?”
“I really don’t think it works that way, Eva. I think if you do that, Marcus is going to misinterpret your avoidance of sex as either a punishment or a game. I think it’s a bad idea.”
“Well, I think it’s the only way I can deal with this, okay? The more we fuck, the more it feels like romance to me. He’s made it obvious he doesn’t want romance, so what’s left?”
“He didn’t say he didn’t want romance. He only said he wanted to slow it down. You’re making way too much of this in my opinion.”
“Well, I appreciate the fact that you’ve been here for me. But this is how I choose to deal with it. Maybe it’s not the way you would deal with it, and hopefully you’ll never have to, but don’t make the same mistake with Weston. Don’t wear your heart on your sleeve the way that I did.”
“We aren’t like that, Eva.”
“What do you mean?”
“Weston and I are far from being in love. We hardly know one another come to think about it. We’re just enjoying whatever it is for what it is right now.”
She nods. “Maybe that’s the smartest thing to do,” she replies wistfully. “If you have no expectations, you can’t get hurt I guess.”
“Hey,” I say, giving her shoulders a squeeze, “We’re all hurt someplace and we’re all looking for a painkiller, right?”
She gives me a meek smile, as she dabs her nose. “You’re lame. That one is easy. Katherine in Looking for Mr. Goodbar.”
“See? You’re still on your game.”
“You just wait, Pey. I hope it doesn’t happen, but I’m pretty sure no one gets through life without at least one broken heart…or ten.”
I’m so new to all of this. With Stuart our relationship, whatever it was, required very little thought…at least on my part. It just happened, but when I sit back and think about it, I mean really think about it, it was always as if I observed it rather than lived it if that makes sense, which I know it doesn’t. It was like an out-of-body experience. It was never up close and personal with us.
This thing with Weston, even in its infancy, is so different than what it was with Stuart. It’s very up close and personal. The physical part is intoxicating; touching, tasting, and feeling the most private and intimate parts of one other. Even the sounds and smells of our chemistry is a potent aphrodisiac as if I would even know what that is, but somehow, I do.
I’m not sure I understand what Eva is feeling right now with Marcus. I have no experience with it or any point of reference for that matter. What I do know is that I don’t ever want to feel the way she’s feeling.
I have no expectations with Weston, and I plan on keeping it that way. I don’t want the complications of anything serious, and I’m pretty sure he feels the same way. As long as I keep that first and foremost in my mind, I’m confident I can avoid the pitfall Eva has just plowed heart-first into.
Chapter 52
It was New Year’s Eve and Maxim’s, one of the finest restaurants in Cambridge, was packed with couples and groups of people preparing to ring in the New Year with an expensive dinner first.
Peyton looked stunning in the little black dress she was wearing for their evening out. Weston’s eyes had locked on the low cut of the neckline as soon as he had picked her up earlier. She was wearing the charm necklace he had given her for Christmas. The combination was heady. It was strange how someone with her looks had the ability to make a simple black dress and a necklace look almost exotic. There was nothing pretentious about her, and that was yet another quality he appreciated.
“You look awesome,” he said, helping her on with her coat, his fingers gently pulling her long hair out from beneath the collar. He loved it when she wore it down.
“You don’t look half bad yourself, Weston,” she said, giving him the once over in his dark suit. “You clean up well.”
They had placed their order and were sipping wine when Peyton broached the subject of Eva and Marcus’s current situation. He knew that she would bring it up, chicks were like that, and he figured it would be a great segue into their own discussion.
“So, what do you think about the situation with Marcus and Eva?” Peyton asked, looking worried.
Weston shook his head in disbelief, “He didn’t give me all the details, but it sounds like that trip to Pittsburgh made him…squirm.”
“She told him she loved him,” Peyton said in a hoarse whisper. “He didn’t say it back.”
“Ouch,” Weston replied. “Well, that had to fucking hurt.”
Peyton nodded, “Eva said it was a major strategic miscue.”
“Is that right?” he replied, looking at her with a bit of amusement on his face.
Did chicks seriously strategize shit like that?
“Listen, Weston,” she continued, shifting in her chair a bit nervously. “That whole thing with them has given me cause to think about us. I want to make sure that we are on the same page with whatever is between us. I hope you don’t mind.”
Weston was caught off guard by her remarks. He certainly hadn’t figured she would be the one to broach the subject. “No, not at all. You go first.”
“Look, I enjoy spending time with you,” she said quietly. “And well---the physical part is so fantastic,” she continued, “but you and I both have different paths to take after graduation.”
She grabbed her wine glass and drained it. “It’s just that…well, I’m sure neither one of us have plans to get serious, right?”
Weston was totally taken aback with her words. She had said the words that he had been practicing. It wasn’t that he didn’t have feelings for her, because he sure as hell did, but the fact remained they didn’t know a lot about one another and she was right about the paths they would each take after graduation. Weston had no plans to get serious for a long time, but that didn’t mean he wanted to cut her loose anytime soon.
“I guess getting serious isn’t something that is necessarily planned,” he replied. “I suppose it just happens, but I also get where you’re coming from, babe. I think what you said makes perfect sense. But maybe some clarification is in order?”
“Clarification?”
“Well…yeah, I mean you’re not just some fuck buddy to me, I hope you know that.”
She blushed and laughed softly. “I swear, the way you put things, Matthews, it’s like---I dunno, like a male version of Eva or something. And I think I already know that anyway. I’m just glad that you weren’t my first…lover.”
He quirked a brow questioningly at her. “Why’s that?”
“Because,” she said her cheeks flushing a bit, “I’d probably be one of those puck bunnies I’ve heard Eva mention before.”
Weston laughed genuinely, and gave her a sexy wink. “Not on my watch, baby. Just because we’re not going to get all serious about one another, there is still the matter of exclusivity.”
“Care to elaborate?”
Now it was Weston’s turn to shift uncomfortably. This was new territory for him. He cleared his throat. “Simply put, I don’t put my dick in anyone else, and nobody but me puts their dick in you.”
Peyton nearly choked on her water, quickly bringing her linen napkin up from her lap to cover her mouth. Once composed, she wiped her mouth and gazed over at him demurely. It was time for her to be just as direct to Weston as he was inclined to be with her. She knew she could do it, and she wanted to see how it felt.
She’d slipped one of her heels off under the table and then raised her stocking-covered foot up to his lap, and then moved it slowly along the inside of his thigh, finally reaching the destination intended. She allowed her toes to wiggle against his crotch, and smiled when his eyes widened just a bit. “Well then,” she said, her voice soft and husky, “how about we ditch the party and go back to your place? I want to make sure exclusivity is worth all those eager dicks I’m gonna have to turn away going forward.”
Weston grinned, and moved one hand beneath the tablecloth so that he could grasp a slender ankle with his large hand. He gently caressed it, while his eyes never moved from hers. He allowed his fingers to slowly travel upward, exploring her calf, and then gently squeezed the back of her knee. “I don’t buy it, Peyton,” he teased. “I think I’ve spoiled you for others.”
“Cocky, aren’t you?” she asked, rubbing her big toe along his now semi-erect dick. “It’s been so long, I think you’ll need to refresh my memory on that. Prove it, Matthews.”
Weston’s eyes darkened with the heat of her words.
“Check, please.”
Chapter 53
This is the first time I’ve been in Weston’s room. He keeps it neat. The bed is even made, which both impresses and shames me considering half the time I forget to make mine at home. The house is quiet. The guys are out partying, and Marcus took Eva to dinner and then to a concert.
I look around and see the typical things a guy would have in his room
. A hat rack on the wall with different ball caps representing baseball and football teams, both collegiate and professional; a large oak dresser with an assortment of trophies and men’s cologne bottles arranged across the top of it. There’s a desk with a laptop and printer, and a mirror over it. He must enjoy watching himself study I figure. There’s a bookcase full of textbooks from previous classes I presume, and Hardwick’s winter hockey schedule is tacked to the wall over it.
A brass coatrack is in the corner, with all kinds of coats, jackets, hoodies and even a bathrobe dangling from the arms of it. I spot his Hardwick Hockey jacket and something inside of my belly tingles at the memory of watching him play.
“How many more games do you have?” I ask, turning to where he’s peeling off his suit jacket and tie, and hanging them up neatly in his closet.
“Just three more. One at home, and the last two away. Why? Are you a fan now?” he asks, a glint of humor sparkling in his eyes.
I shrug noncommittally, turning back to see where the away games are being hosted. Hmm…Carnegie Mellon and Western Michigan. Too far away to go anyway. “It wasn’t as brutal as I thought it would be,” I reply.
Weston switches his sound system on, and lowers the volume just a bit.
Classical music.
Color me surprised.
He lights a candle on the nightstand.
“Setting the mood, Preppy?” I tease. “You know I’m pretty much a sure thing here.”
He chuckles softly, and I see he’s shirtless now. He’s rocking CK briefs, nothing else. I sigh as my eyes flicker over his body, his muscles bulging and corded and all the things they’re supposed to be when one is a smokin’ hot jock.
“Come here,” he orders softy, extending an arm. “It’s not fair you’re getting to scope out the flesh, and I’m not now is it?”