by Cat Mason
After I’ve lit candles, I start throwing a salad together just as I hear Gunnar’s truck pull into the driveway. “Hey, babe, how was your day?” he calls, shutting the front door. I hear him drop his stuff to the floor then he’s standing in the doorway smiling at me.
“Same as usual,” I reply, smiling back at him as I toss the salad. “You?”
Walking around the counter, he swipes a carrot from the salad bowl in front of me and pops it into his mouth. Wrapping his arms around me from behind, he nuzzles my neck and I jump a bit in surprise. “Team’s workin’ real hard, it was a good practice. Mmmm, something smells good.” Leaning down, he opens the oven and groans. “Did you make me lasagna?”
“Mhm,” I reply when he closes the oven and tightens his grip around my waist. His lips press to the sensitive skin behind my ear, making my eyes close.
“What’s the special occasion?” he breathes.
“I thought since you’ve been working so hard with the team that you may need it,” I lie, feeling two inches tall once more, knowing that it was guilt that had me making all his favorites tonight.
“Mmm… Ten minute shower,” he says, pressing his lips to my shoulder. “Then I’m all yours, baby.”
Gunnar releases me and heads out of the kitchen, switching off the iPod deck as he passes it, effectively leaving me alone with my thoughts as I finish up dinner. Slicing the bread, I add some butter to a few slices before taking the plate out to the table.
I can’t help thinking about the differences between Dixon and Gunnar and wonder why in the hell I let myself get into this mess to begin with. I’ve never been interested in Dixon that way, have I? For as long as I can remember it has always been Gunnar. It has to have been all the shit going on in my head lately mixed with all the alcohol I had. It was a mistake—a horrible mistake— that should have never happened in the first place. That’s the only reason to explain my temporary insanity.
The only problem is, what if it’s not?
Could there really be this whole other side of me that is begging to come out? Is that even possible? If so, what in the hell am I going to do about it? I can’t even begin to process this shit in my head, let alone try to talk to Gunnar about it. The one thing I do know for sure is he can never know what happened between Dixon and me. Not only would it kill him to know that I have been unfaithful, but finding out it was with his best friend, that would be the ultimate betrayal...
With all of our families spread out all over the country, except Gunnar’s dad, our group is a vital family unit. It’s our main support system and none of us can afford to lose that. This is just something I’m going to have to deal with. Will it make being around Dixon hard? Yeah, more than likely. But, I’m willing to do whatever it takes to protect Gunnar from this shit.
Pulling the lasagna from the oven, I make our plates before taking them to the table. I pour myself a glass of red wine and open a beer for Gunnar just as he walks out in a pair of baggy workout shorts.
“That smells fuckin’ amazing,” he says, sitting down at the table beside me. “I forgot to grab lunch so I’ve been starvin’ all fuckin’ day.”
“These fuckin’ shorts have been taunting me all day… All. Fuckin’. Day...”
I hear Dixon’s voice echoing in my head. My hands tremble, making me drop my fork onto my plate with a clatter.
“You OK over there, butterfingers?” Gunnar chuckles before shoving a huge fork full of pasta into his mouth. “You’re so jumpy.”
“Sorry,” I say, picking it up and slicing into my lasagna. “I’m tired. Didn’t sleep very well last night.”
“I’d say not,” Gunnar says, chuckling. Shaking his head, he reaches for a piece of bread and shoves in a mouthful. “Dixon’s couch is pretty brutal.”
“Huh, what?” I ask, grabbing for my wine and taking a long drink.
“I said I can’t imagine you sleeping at all on that damn couch of Dixon’s; it’s like sleeping on a bed of nails. I’ve been tellin’ that asshole for years to get another one, but he says that’ll only mean people will wanna stay there.”
“Can’t have that,” I reply, picking at my salad bowl.
Setting down his fork, Gunnar meets my eyes. “I was worried about you, Kennedy. You should never have driven. I don’t want to lose you, baby.” Reaching over, he takes my hand in his and presses his lips to the inside of my wrist. “I don’t like waking up and not finding you here with me.”
“I’m sorry, Gunnar,” I say, hating that it’s all I can seem to say to him today. “The last thing I ever wanted was for you to worry about me.”
Fuck, as if I could feel any worse. The fact is he was here, worrying about me driving, all while I was busy being fucked into oblivion by one of our best friends.
Gunnar nods. “I know you are, baby. I am too. I shouldn’t have been so harsh on the phone and I didn’t mean to be. But, I’m not gonna lie, it scared the shit out of me. I’m also not going to keep bitching about it anymore. You’re home, nothing bad happened, so let’s put it behind us.” Standing from the table, he takes his empty plate and bowl and stacks them before grabbing his beer, finishing it off in one long swallow. “Why don’t you go take a bath and relax? I’ll put everything away and then we can watch a movie in bed or something.”
Looking down at my half eaten food, I nod and push away from the table. “That sounds great.”
Stepping closer, Gunnar presses his lips to mine then turns to start clearing the table. Heading down the hallway, I step into the bathroom and start the bath water, making sure to pour in lots of bubbles. I need them tonight. Stripping out of my clothes, I stare at myself in the mirror as I pull up my hair, determined to find a difference between the woman I was before I drove Dixon home, and the woman I am now after waking up with him in his bed this morning. Is it possible to do something so reckless and so unforgivable and not have some noticeable difference? Is it really possible for no one to ever find out what we’ve done?
Shrugging off my thoughts, I step into the hot water and sink down into the bubbles. Closing my eyes, I blow out a breath and force all the thoughts of Dixon and me out of my head. The hot water relaxes my sore muscles, and after a while, my mind even begins to stop racing. I’m home with my husband and he deserves my full attention so why in the hell am I sitting here in the tub? I should be out there with Gunnar, kissing him, holding him. More than anything, I just want to forget what I’ve done and remember what we are. I need to feel the connection that we have when we make love.
Sitting up in the tub, I grab the loofah to make quick work of washing myself off before climbing out and toweling off as the water drains. Sitting on the bench seat in the window, I rub lotion into my legs and everywhere else until my entire body is silky smooth and the bathroom smells like my favorite scent from Victoria’s Secret: Pure Seduction.
I slip on the black satin nightie that is hanging on the back of the bathroom door, the hem skimming my upper thigh. Looking into the mirror, I pull down my hair and brush it until it shines and falls down my back in long brown waves.
Opening the bathroom door, I pad down the hallway to the bedroom. “Baby,” I purr, pushing open the door, and instantly my face falls. Gunnar lies face down on the bed, holding the remote in one hand while snoring soundly into the mattress.
Reaching over, I slip the remote from his hand and climb into bed beside him. Pulling the quilt up from the bottom of the bed, I cover us both causing Gunnar to roll over and wrap his arm around me. Tucking his face into my neck, he inhales deeply. “Mmm, I love you, Kennedy, so damn much.” He sighs contently, pressing his lips to the skin behind my ear.
A tear slips down my cheek as I flip through the channels. Even though he’s asleep, Gunnar tightens his grip around my middle, pulling me tightly against his chest. After finally settling on a horror flick, I fall asleep feeling a bit defeated.
It’s been weeks since the night everything happened with Dixon, and everyone has been insanely busy. Gunnar
has been running two-a-day practices and working with a few kids on new plays to get ready for a huge game against the toughest team in the division while Lynsey, Mark, and I have been doing store inventory. Business is booming for Batteries Not Included and it has meant a lot more hours for me. I haven’t seen much of Dixon—according to Gunnar, wildfire season has kept the guys at the firehouse pretty busy.
Tonight, though, Lynsey pulled out all the stops, and everyone is here. Everyone except Dixon so far. We’re laughing, drinking, and the music is playing through the speakers. It’s a good night. “Gunnar, are you sure he’s coming?” Lynsey asks, holding up the mallet she’s using to tenderize the steak. “If he flakes on a dinner for a piece of pussy, I’ll use this to pound his dick into a penis patty.”
Mark and Gunnar both go wide-eyed and a bit green, “He said he’d be here. Shit, Lynsey, there’s no need for you to plan the dismemberment of Dixon’s favorite body part,” Gunnar says, stepping behind me and wrapping his arms around me. His body sways with mine to the music as he nuzzles my neck. “If I dance with you and sing in your ear, baby, will you save me from Lynsey?”
He thinks I can protect him from Lyn? He’s funny…
“Don’t worry, Gunnar,” Lynsey says, slamming the mallet down again. “Once I have played whack-a-cock with Dixon, I’ll be sure to slap you around.”
I can feel my face begin to flame at the mention of Dixon’s cock. Lyn looks at me with a knowing grin while all I can do is glare at her, silently planning her death. “He better be here,” she snaps, slamming the mallet down on the steak. “Because…”
“Because, it’s not a party without me!” Dixon shouts, walking through the door. Leaning down, he pecks Lyn on the cheek. “Sorry I’m late, oh mighty queen, but I wasn’t showin’ up in my gear. I don’t come on request.”
And if my face wasn’t red before…
Yanking open the fridge, Dixon grabs a beer and leans back into the counter before he twists off the cap and takes a long pull. Tossing the mallet to the counter, Lyn turns and yanks the beer from Dixon. Wiping the top off, she takes a drink and winks at him. “Aw, you shouldn’t have.”
Rolling his eyes, Dixon turns and pulls another beer from the fridge. “Why do I not just expect that shit by now?”
“Here,” Lynsey says, handing the plate of steaks out to Gunnar. “Go make yourselves useful.”
“Come on, guys,” Gunnar says, releasing me to take the plate and head out onto the back patio. Dixon’s eyes meet mine and my breath nearly gets lodged in my chest. Every possible emotion goes through my head at once as his eyes lock on my lips. His blue eyes darken arrogantly, just the look lets me know that he’s undressing me in his head as his gaze roams down my body, stopping where my tattoo lies. Part of me is squirming under the heat, remembering how his hands and mouth felt on my skin. The other part feels like everyone in the room can see it as if it were a neon sign, flashing every single thing we’ve done.
My stomach knots and flips. I can’t do anything except stand and stare at him. Stepping between us, Lynsey laughs, breaking the moment. Her eyes go to Dixon, “If you’re going to stay in here with us, the least you could do is put on an apron and get me another beer,” she says, tossing her empty bottle into the trash beside him.
Dixon shakes his head. This time when his eyes meet mine, they look almost conflicted. Like he has a million things to say. Instead, he stays silent. Opening the fridge, he pulls out the last of the six pack. Tucking it under his arm, he winks at Lyn before heading out the door toward the grill.
“Ha!” she laughs, walking over to the wine cooler. Opening the door, she reveals two more six packs. “Did he really think I’d let him take the last of the beer?” Pulling out a bottle, she hands it to me before taking one for herself. “As for you, you’re about as subtle as a gynecologist wearin’ a gas mask.”
“Excuse me?” I ask, tossing the cap into the trash and taking a drink.
“That couldn’t have been more awkward if you’d walked over and stuck your tongue in his ear. The men may be dense as fuck, but I’m sure as hell not.” Downing half her beer, she slides the bottle onto the counter before washing her hands. Grabbing potatoes from the counter, she begins slicing them into pieces and tossing them into a bowl. “I take it you two haven’t figured out your shit, huh?”
Closing my eyes tightly, I count to ten inside my head. Taking a deep breath, I open my eyes and find Lyn staring at me in amusement. “I… We… It, just, um…” I stammer, unable to make any sense of the words all jumbled up in my head.
Washing the potatoes, Lynsey then adds salt, pepper, parmesan cheese, and olive oil before pouring them into a pan and sliding it into the oven. “Sweetie, this is your life. I’m not trying to tell you what to do,” she starts, then giggles. “All right, fuck, I tried, but I can’t.” Blowing out a breath, she presses her hands together as if she were praying. “I’m not the type of friend to sit idly by while I watch you go through something like this. I don’t do quiet and passive while my best friend is being a fuckin’ pussy. It’s not in my nature.”
“Jesus, Lyn, don’t hold back now.”
“Sorry, but it’s the truth and you love me because I give it to you straight.” Rounding the bar, she points out the opened patio door to where the guys stand joking and talking around the grill. “You have to figure out what is going on between Dixon and you, Kennedy. You’ll only end up hurting all three of you if you let this fester beneath the surface unresolved. Now,” she says, looking at me. “I can sit here and tell you what you want to hear, or what I think you should do until I’m bluer in the face than Mark’s balls in a cock cage, but as much as I love being a third or even a fourth in a game of sexual tension, this isn’t about me. It’s about you, babe.”
My eyes snap to hers. “Did you just say bluer?” I ask, biting back a laugh. “Is that a word?”
Pressing her lips into a hard line, she flips me off. “Everything I just said and you latch onto one fuckin’ word?” she asks, hitching a hand on her hip. “If I didn’t love you, I’d slap the shit out of you. Admit it, though, you kmow what I said was true.”
Looking down at my hands, I stare at my wedding ring, the beautiful diamond that Gunnar put on my finger in front of all our friends one Christmas. Is it possible for a memory to feel like it happened yesterday, but also feel like it’s been an eternity at the same time? That’s how those days feel. Everything was so uncomplicated and easy back then. Our lives had just begun and our futures were wide open with endless possibilities.
Now, I just feel so lost. I’m torn because I love Gunnar, I always have, but this new side of me sees things that I crave. These things I’ve never said out loud, but not only did Dixon seem to see all of them, he gave them to me that night. Was it just alcohol and hormones making everything heightened? Orgasmic hallucination? Could it be possible for two parts of me to be so different that one doesn’t recognize the other, to coexist and not have blowback that will ruin everything in my path?
Once dinner is done, we all sit around the table to eat, bantering playfully as we eat. The environment is pretty much clear of the earlier stress. Football talk and chatting about the shop turns into Mark bitching about needing a spa day and a vacation.
“We could get a group package,” Mark says around a bite of steak. “Make an entire weekend of it as a group. Facials, deep tissue massages, the works. There’s nothing better to relieve stress.”
“I can think of a few.” Gunnar chuckles, earning him a fist bump from Dixon.
“Count me out too, man.” Dixon says, then shovels potatoes into his mouth. “Got better things I could be doin’, naked, on my day off, than lyin’ face down on a table.”
My fork slips from my hand, clattering to my plate. I choke on my steak, gasping for air as I grab my glass and down gulps of water to clear my throat. “Babe, are you OK?” Gunnar asks, reaching over and patting me on the back.
“Fine,” I gasp. Setting down my glass, I wipe
my face with my napkin and catch my breath. The entire table is watching me. Dixon smirks wickedly while Lynsey just shakes her head, leaving poor Gunnar and Mark looking both concerned and clueless. Looking at Mark, I smile, rolling my tense shoulders. “A spa day sounds great. I’d kill for a massage right now.”
Mark and Lynsey start talking schedules and planning a day when the three of us can go all together. Gunnar stands to his feet, gripping my shoulders and rolling his fingers into the tissue. “Why go there? I can handle all your kinks for you for free, baby.” Releasing his hold on me, he turns and heads into the kitchen to grab another drink. Looking up, I catch Dixon’s eyes on me. The look in his eyes is pure predatory and fuck, it’s hot. I can’t deny it and I don’t know what the hell to do about the way just the look he gives me makes my stomach flip.
One thing I do know for sure: Lynsey is right. I can’t keep ignoring this.
The end of August means I see less and less of Gunnar. Between classes and football, I’m lucky if I lay eyes on him before I go to bed most nights. He loves what he does, and watching the way he is with those kids makes me love him even more. I swear he was running around like a chicken with its head cut off this morning trying to make sure everything was in place for the first home game of the season.
I pull my Indians jersey down over my tank top as Dixon bangs against my door. “Let’s go, Kennedy! It’s a football game, not your high school prom. It shouldn’t take this long to get ready!”
I yank the door back and come chest to chest with him. “Jesus, Dixon, you’re practically in my room. Calm down, we won’t miss kick off.”
“Believe me,” he says while letting his eyes roam over my body. “If I was in the room, we would’ve missed the game.”
He turns and walks away from me, leaving me shocked in the doorway. It’s been weeks since the night everything happened between us, and since that morning he hasn’t mentioned anything about it, even if his innuendos are ruthless. Everything was sorting itself out. Well, for the most part. Lynsey’s words of wisdom float through my head every time I see him and make me wonder if it was just a drunken mistake, or if what he gave me is something I actually need. I’m still unsure.