by C. J. Wells
“Come for me”, he whispers softly, his own pleasure written all over his face.
Desire seeps up my spine, tingles gnawing their way through my belly at his command.
My body jolts as I release a guttural cry, lost to the most intense orgasm of my life; feeling his thrust once more before losing himself inside me.
Coming back down from my leap into orgasmic bliss, I lose all rationale and control. Every ounce of emotion I’ve been harbouring comes crashing as my eyes sting with tears. I feel like a dam about to break apart as I begin to cry uncontrollably; sobs wracking my body.
“Aby? What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
“I don’t know… nothing… everything…” I can barely manage the words, let alone make any sense of how I’m feeling.
“Everything? Aby, talk to me”. He gently caresses my face, his eyes laced with sweet concern. Almost fear.
Oh god, why is this happening right now?
I don’t know what to say to him. I have nothing to say that can reassure him. I can’t even reassure myself.
There’s so much he isn’t aware of since Julia’s visit. And after my omission about Ben - or, according to Alex, my lie - I’m now keeping even more from him.
Unable to control my sobbing, I push his arm away and try to manoeuvre out from under him.
I catch a glimpse of confused alarm cross his face as he gives way to my escape before I turn away, covering my face with my hands. I can’t bear to look him in the eye. Not right now.
“Aby, please… Why are you crying?”
In my continued hiding, I offer nothing in return. What can I say to him?
I feel vulnerable and scared as I stand naked before him. Frantically, I reach for my robe slung over the chair, sliding it over my shoulders, tying it securely around my waist.
“Does this have anything to do with Andrew being here again today?”
Alex’s tone is suddenly laced with anger, though it seems he’s trying to hide it.
Despite his efforts, it hits a nerve within me. A very pinched nerve that has been waiting to explode. The build of my emotional rollercoaster, combined with my lingering inebriation has created an uncontrollable volcano; it’s lava about to spill over.
Removing my handed shield from my face, I look towards him with uncontrolled disdain as he sits on the edge of the bed. “This has nothing to do with Andrew”.
He looks taken aback at my biting reply. “Oh? This is the second time I’ve returned from a trip to find him here with you. Not to mention that both times you were upset”.
“How do you know I was upset the first time? And, more importantly, what makes you think it had, or has, anything to do with Andrew?”
“So, you were upset last week. I suspected…”
“You suspected? Well, how observant of you. You certainly didn’t say anything to suggest you had any idea that something was bothering me then. Oh, and for the record, Sherlock, I was upset about your dear friend Ben. Ringing any bells?”
He winces at my mention of Ben.
If I wasn’t so consumed with built up rage, I’d be able to give in to the slight pull of my heart at his pained expression. The emotional alcohol-fuelled cocktail running through my veins is too strong to fight.
“You shared that with Andrew? You spoke to him about what happened with Ben, when you couldn’t even tell me?”
I choke back renewed tears. “I didn’t tell Andrew anything! He was just here as a friend… and that’s what this is all about, isn’t it? Your jealously over Andrew!”
“No! Jesus. Stop twisting my words. What’s going on with you? One minute we’re making love, the next you’re crying, and now…”
“Now what?”
“Now… I don’t know… I guess we’re back to your friend Andrew”.
Oh my God! I just want to scream.
I’m trying to deal with living in your FUCKED UP WORLD, and you want to talk about Andrew? With all the shit I’m dealing with from your lot!
Fuelled by my inner diatribe, I turn to face him. “Andrew is a friend. A nice guy that lives next door. That’s all. It’s not like he’s a fuck buddy”. I’m almost proud of my sarcastic stretching of the biting description.
His jaw clenches. “That’s great, Aby. You’re drunk and resorting to low-blows. Well done”. He stands from the bed to pull on his jeans.
“If I’m throwing low-blows, Mr. Tate, it’s because I’ve been dodging them for weeks myself”.
“Do enlighten me, Miss Ryan”, his eyebrow raises above his clenched jaw as he looks towards me, halting the closure of his jeans mid-stride.
Ha! I’ve heard that request before. The reminder of the first night we met sends me into sarcastic laughter. “Enlighten you? That’s the same damn request that lead us down this road, isn’t it? My welcome entry into your world and all it’s fucked-up-ness!”
He looks as though I’ve hit him in the stomach with a wrecking ball.
My spewing molten lava burns me from the inside out. Wrapping my arms around my body, I make my way towards the bed and sit down, my head hung in regret as I realize the destruction of my eruption.
Minutes seem like hours as we remain in place, surrounded by silence.
Finally finding the courage, I look to him.
Staring down at me, pain etching his beautiful blue eyes, I feel a quick pang to my heart. As much as I want to get up and go to him, to make the pain disappear, erase everything I’ve just said and done… I can’t.
Lowering my eyes to stare at the floor in shame, I whisper, “Alex, I… I think I should leave London”.
“Leave? To go where?”
“To go home”.
His released breath pulls my gaze back to his.
Running his hands through his hair, his pained expression is laced with bewildered shock. “Aby… Shit…”, he begins pacing the floor where I finished moments ago. “Jesus… we just made love for fucks sake”, he stops his incessant pacing to look at me. “And now you’re telling me you’re leaving?”
I’m unable to respond as he walks towards me.
“Why?” he asks, looking down into my eyes.
“Alex, please…”
“Tell me why, Aby!”
“I don’t… belong here. With you”.
Dropping to his knees, he takes my face in his hands, forcing me to look at him.
I can’t bear to see the hurt in his eyes. I love him. The last thing I want to do is hurt him.
Unable to face him, I pull my head away and he flinches at my abrupt withdrawal.
“This is the wine talking, Aby. You’ve had a terrible morning…”
“I don’t fit in your world, Alex. I was a fool to think I could… or at least to try to see if I could”.
“My world? Look at me… God dammit… look at me!” he pleads, turning my face towards him once more. “Aby, my world has been turned upside down since I met you. Don’t you know that?”
Although I’m looking into his stunning blue eyes, listening to his words, I no longer see him. I’ve finally relented. They were right. They are right. I have no future with this man. I’m the ‘nobody’ that doesn’t belong. The girl that came along and disrupted his life, his world. At least Alex can now admit it.
“Yes, I do know that. That’s why I’m leaving”.
“No, listen to me. I’ve been waiting for so long for someone to come into my life. Someone like you! These past few weeks… they’ve been amazing. You’re amazing…”
“You don’t have to do this. I knew from the start that this - whatever this is… or was…” My gaze is straying; focusing on the wall behind him, the carpeted floor, whatever I can look at to avoid seeing his pleading eyes. How do I tell this man that I anticipated heart break? From the beginning I knew this would happen. It was an inevitable conclusion. Can I not leave with a little dignity?
He’s certainly acting the part beautifully; a gentleman right to the end.
“What this is. Not was. I knew
from the start that I wanted you. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you walk away from me now. Look at me! Tell me this is the wine talking. I’m so sorry about what happened this morning… the media. Fuck. Please don’t let them run you off. Don’t let them ruin what we have”.
I hear him, though his words are muddled, inaudible blurs.
“Alex…”, I shake my head.
“Is it Ben?” He’s searching my avoiding gaze. “I’m sorry about Ben!”
“Please stop. Stop apologizing. Nothing that’s happened is your fault. It’s me. You have this amazing career… You’re such a wonderful man…”, I finally look at him.
“Then don’t leave me”.
He searches my eyes, though I know there’s nothing there for him to find. I feel dead inside. My heart is shattered into a million tiny bits and I have no fight left in me. They’ve sucked it all out.
“This isn’t the wine talking. The wine was talking when I asked you to fuck me. This is reality setting in. Eventually we have to face that this fling…”
“This fling? I didn’t fuck you! Aby, look at me! I made love to you! Didn’t it mean anything?”
Oh God, more than you know.
And that’s all you need to hear isn’t it? I can give you that. If that’s what you need.
“Yes, Alex. It did...” It meant so much more than I can say.
Taking my hands in his, he lays his head in my lap, “You don’t know what that means to me. Tell me you’ll stay. Tell me you’re not leaving me…”
The stress of late begins to compound inside me at that moment. I’m done arguing. I’m done talking.
Looking into his beautifully statuesque face, I nod my head in agreement.
Releasing a sigh, he wraps his arms around me, lifting to place me back down on the bed.
Lying beside me, he looks into my eyes before leaning down to press a gentle, lingering kiss to my lips.
I give in to him fully, enjoying this wonderful man; my broken heart enveloped in his every touch.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN
I love you too, Alex…
Lost in dream-filled slumber, I slowly stir to his touch - his gentle caress along my cheek.
“I’ll see you in a few days, baby”, he whispers.
I feel his soft lips brush mine as I mumble incoherently, turning to snuggle into the pillow.
My eyes dart open to find I’m alone.
Realization sets in that he’s gone - his kiss goodbye lingering, intertwined with my peaceful dreams.
I didn’t get to hug him goodbye.
My heart is in my throat - so many things left unsaid, unfinished. I embrace myself instinctively in the sheets laced with his lingering scent.
Glancing at the clock, I note it’s not even dawn, despite my mind’s sudden wakefulness - thoughts of Alex and our night together replaying.
Our evening took a turn after my acquiescence to his pleads. I tried my hardest to hide my true feelings - my portrayal of happiness successfully blinding him to the constant turmoil inside me - my shredding heart.
His demeanor did a complete one-eighty; the pain that had been etched on his face eradicated by my stellar performance. Replaced instead with the relaxed and confident man I know so well as we cuddled watching a movie before climbing into bed in the comfort of each other’s arms.
I was once again the successful participant in a charade, my years of practice training me well.
What a waste of a performance - my reality is crashing back ahead of the morning’s sunrise.
How can I rectify the damage I’ve done? How can I minimize its impact on Alex, and his career?
I’m so overwhelmed, I actually feel dizzy. Nausea takes hold as Alex’s pain filled eyes flash, once again, through my mind. I can hardly breathe. I expected a broken heart when our relationship came to an end, but this - what I’m feeling at this very moment - is so much more amplified.
Should you stay with someone you love even though you know you’re not good for them? Not right for them?
I wonder if I hadn’t fooled Liam as well as I did, if this is how he would have felt. Would he have chosen to stay anyway - his love for me blinded to the reality of everything around us? Would he have stayed at all cost?
Do I stay with Alex at all cost? Is he even the right one for me? This isn’t just about what I’m doing to him… I have to think about what it’s doing to me.
These thoughts flow relentlessly through my head as I grab my iPad from the nightstand.
Like a kaleidoscope of colors, the events of the past few weeks filter through.
Meeting and falling in love with Alex - The amazing Alexander the Great who’s left an imprint on my heart deeper than I could ever have imagined. The man I’ve fallen so deeply in love with.
My somewhat saddened smile at the memories we’ve created obliterates at the sudden remembrance of Julia and her visit two days ago. I curse her and the other players involved in my current diatribe. Julia. Ben. Helena. They’ve all contributed, each playing their parts so well. All succeeding in tainting our relationship with doubt and uncertainty; abolishing my dream-life come true, care of Alexander Tate. I hate them.
‘I can handle anything you need’, Julia’s words burn through me.
I don’t need your goddamn help!
~
My eyes jar at the sun streaming through the curtained windows; my arms secured around the tablet at my chest. I’ve overslept having fallen into a dreamless sleep.
Standing, I falter. Ugh. I feel like shit.
I make my way to the bathroom for a quick shower, an attempt to wash away my hangover.
Brushing my damp hair, I stare back at my reflection, the darkness coating my under-eyes reminiscent of my early morning wake - no amount of make-up will shield my evident tiredness. I slick my fingers through my hair, pulling it into a lose ponytail.
With a long sigh, I stare back at my lost expression.
I’m strong. I can be strong. I can forge past this.
Squaring my shoulders in my hardest semblance of confidence, I make my way to the bedroom to dress, my hangover lingering. I deserve it. It doesn’t escape me that alcohol played a large part in my confrontation with Alex last night - my semi-inebriated state resulting in somewhat rash statements and misguided ideals, spewed from my mouth in a dramatic display of irrationality.
Alex’s pleading is also ever-present. Is it possible that he was sincere in his panic at the thought of me leaving? I can’t be sure.
We’ve never talked of love. I’d like to think that he loves me - as I love him - but I know it’s an impossibility. After such a short time together - regardless of how special and life altering - I can’t presume it’s mutual.
He likes me, no question. But like isn’t enough when he’s impacted by the consequences of our relationship. Enough damage has been done. Ben for starters.
Being partially responsible for the demise of their friendship - albeit as a second party benefactor - is something I’ll live with forever. I feel physically ill at the thought.
Alex will wake up one morning and realize his misguided like for me has led him down a path of irreparable damage.
Can he live with that?
Can I live with that?
Grabbing my purse, I head down the stairs; my steps a leisure stroll despite my tardy rise.
With the waiting cab at the curb, I lock up, catching a glimpse of Andrew’s door. The thoughts of his interpretations of yesterday’s events take root - the haziness of my drunken display fade away to reveal the extent of my behavior.
I owe him an apology, at least in note form.
Holding up a finger to the cab driver, I signal that I need a minute. Opening my purse in search of a piece of paper and pen, I make a quick notation, turning back to his door.
Slipping the paper in the crack of it’s casing, it opens.
“Aby?”
Andrew’s standing in the doorframe, a look of concern I an
ticipated dawning his charming face.
“Are you ok?” he asks, reaching his hand out to steady me.
I wasn’t prepared to come face to face with him at this moment; his presence takes me off-guard. “Y-yes. I was just leaving you a note”. I thrust it into his hand. “We’ll talk soon”, I walk backwards towards the taxi.
“Aby, wait. Are you sure everything’s ok?” He follows me slightly towards the car.
“I’m late. I’m sorry, I have to go”.
Sliding into the back seat, I buckle the belt, staring out my window at his confused face.
I feel bad for leaving him so abruptly, but my tardiness this morning has me rushing. Not to mention, I’m not quite ready for a face-to-face explanation just yet.
Looking past him to my flat, I release a deep sigh. I’m in a trance as I stare at my beloved new home - perhaps impacted by the after-effects of the residual alcohol in my system from my over indulgence.
I’ve never understood people’s need to lose themselves in alcohol; the assessment reiterated by my turmoil resurfacing its fine head this morning.
Nope, alcohol doesn’t help your problems. It simply masks them for an interim period, only to be reawakened come soberness. My problems are the same this morning as they were last night. My internal arguments the same. Issues the same.
As the taxi pulls away, I continue to stare as my flat becomes smaller and smaller in the distance.
I have a long day ahead of me.
~
Shutting off my brain seems impossible.
Getting comfortable in my chair, I absently reach for my well-viewed Glamour UK stuffed in my purse. Resting the magazine on my lap, I absent-mindedly run my fingers over Alex’s face gleaming the front cover, a saddened smile lading my lips.
‘Sexiest Man’ - an apt description to say the least. A more fitting label I truly couldn’t imagine. He is the world’s sexiest man. One I’ve had the luxury of calling my own. One I’ve fallen irrevocably in love with.
He’s so much more than his astounding appearance. I’ve come to know the wonderful man he is inside, which makes it so much harder to deal with all this mess. I would love to be the woman he ends up with five years from now - the memory of his shy, sweet allusion to his own desired dream.