Man of My Dreams

by Faith Andrews

  With his lips distracting me, his hands spread along the exposed skin of my stomach. His fingers splay across my skin, creeping their way into the waistline of my jeans. I’ve never been touched there.

  My breath catches when he brings his lips up to my ear. The warmth of his mouth and the tingling all over causing me to gasp.

  “Is this okay, Mia?”

  I’m not sure it is. I don’t exactly want him to stop, but I don’t exactly want it to go much further. “Um...yes, but...can we just go back to kissing again?”

  Jake removes his hand from my now unbuttoned jeans, bringing it up to caress my hair. He laughs before he kisses me again. I wonder what’s so funny, but I’m not left wondering too long. This time his kiss is more forceful, more urgent. Before I can think, I am flat on my back, on Chelsea’s or Kate’s bed, with Jake hovering over me.

  His hand travels up my leg, causing me to stiffen. It doesn’t stop his tongue from making a path from my ear down to the neckline of my t-shirt. In one swift movement, his hands are tugging at the hem of the shirt, lifting it to expose my lacey pink, push-up bra and my mature helping of breasts. Maybe they led him to believe I’m older, that this is what I want. But if flaunting what I’ve been given means winding up underneath every guy who gets the chance to kiss me, I might have to start rethinking my wardrobe choices. The wardrobe choice that is now crumpled in a ball on the bedroom floor.

  “Jake, please, can we slow down?”

  He lifts his face that’s buried in my heaving cleavage. After a heavy sigh and a mumble of something under his breath, he rolls off of me.

  I feel vulnerable, lying here half naked and, all of a sudden, half drunk. I guess I’d done a little more than sip that beer. I sit up, searching for my shirt. I locate it, crumpled in the corner of the dimly lit bedroom.

  Jake hasn’t said a word. Am I at fault? Did I lead him on? Do I deserve this overwhelming feeling of shame? I decide to apologize. Maybe he’ll be less angry once I explain myself. “Jake, I’m sorry. I didn’t...I’m not...”

  “Sorry for what? For being a tease? You’re going to make quite a name for yourself on campus if you keep blue-balling guys like this.” He glares at me as I put my shirt back over my head. The incredulous weightiness of his stare frightens me.

  “I’m not in college. I’m a sophomore at Westmont. I thought you knew that.”

  His dark expression becomes luminous, big and bright with this surprising knowledge. “How old are you, Mia?”

  “Sixteen.” I keep my head down, examining the intricate pattern in the carpet.

  “Sixteen? You’re only fucking sixteen. Oh my God, I’m sorry. I have to get out of here.” He straightens himself, walking towards the door.” He turns around, raking his fingers through his messy hair. “A word of advice, little girl. Watch yourself. You look a lot older than you think and the way you kiss...oh my God, sixteen? Goodbye, Mia.” He walks out the bedroom door, slamming it shut.

  I sink down into the bed, covering my face, fighting the tears that prick the corners of my eyes. Through the spaces in my fingers I notice the cup of beer on the nightstand. I grab it and guzzle down the remains of the now stagnant liquid.

  I’m mortified. This is so embarrassing. How am I supposed to rejoin the party as if nothing’s happened? People had to see me go upstairs with him; had to see him run down the steps without me. I will be the laughing stock of every school in town.

  So much for social acceptance!

  My vision starts to feel a bit fuzzy, my brain mushing things together. I’m still very aware of what just happened, but I don’t think I can handle walking out of the room, down the steps and out into the backyard to Grace. If I lie down and close my eyes for two minutes maybe it will go away.

  Please let it all go away.

  Someone is slapping my face, shaking my shoulders. When I open my eyes, it’s definitely not voluntary. And that someone is my father!

  “Dad? What...what are you doing here?”

  Grace and a few men in uniform stand behind him stoically.

  “Mia, are you alright? Did someone drug you? Put something in your drink? Please, Mia, tell me nothing happened here!” My father is frantic. I’ve never seen him like this. Okay, maybe once, when I got lost in the supermarket and he couldn’t find me for ten minutes.

  “Dad. I’m fine. Really.” I don’t know how much to admit to him. I’m sure I’m grounded until the millennium, but I don’t want to add insult to injury.

  I look into his eyes, sensing the agonizing worry. He’s thinking the worst—that I was taken advantage of, molested, raped. I can’t let him think that, not even for one more second.

  “Daddy, I drank the beer and got myself drunk. It’s no one’s fault but my own.” I leave out the part about Jake. There’s no need to involve him. He did the right thing by walking out. He took no for an answer. He’s a prince compared to what another guy might have done.

  My dad turns to the officers and Grace. “I’m taking her home. You too, Grace. Please let me know if there is any paperwork she needs to fill out or anything verbal you need to hear from her. But just let me get her home, where she’s safe.”

  The officers nod, scribbling something down on a piece of paper. “If anything comes up, just give me or my partner a call.”

  “Of course and thank you.” My dad says before hooking arms with me and walking me downstairs.

  Grace follows, biting her nails.

  I know she’s the reason my father’s here. The reason this house party was raided. Forget laughing stock, I’ll be blacklisted from every single party from here on out. No one likes a rat.

  When we get in the car, I speak to my dad, only. “Daddy, I’m sorry. I..”

  “Don’t, Mia. Don’t even bother. I’m so happy you’re safe and in one piece, but you are grounded until further notice. Take a good look at Grace because you won’t be seeing her for a while.”

  I do take a long, hard look at my best friend. My best friend who betrayed me, tattled on me, threw me under the bus. If she would have just confronted me instead of jumping to conclusions, none of this would be happening right now. No one at Chelsea’s would be in trouble, my dad wouldn’t be looking at me like some delinquent, and my best friend would still be my best friend rather than a snitch.

  I turn my head to look out the window. I don’t have words to say to her right now. It’s a good thing I won’t be allowed to see her. I’m actually hoping my punishment includes no phone privileges. Giving her the silent treatment will be her punishment for sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong. When the hell will she stop thinking she knows what’s best for me?

  “Mia?”

  It’s light now. Morning. The room isn’t spinning anymore, but I still feel bound to the bed. I lift my head from the pillow and the throbbing makes me put it right back down.

  “Mia? Are you up?”

  “Grace?” What’s Grace doing here on the morning after...Oh my God, did I sleep with Noah?

  I jump up, ignoring the agony in my skull. I throw on a t-shirt and run down the stairs and into the kitchen. Grace is at my table holding a piece of paper, glaring at me.

  “What the fuck, Mia. Have you lost your goddamn mind?”

  “Did he leave? Did you throw him out?” I’m mortified. How could I have an affair and not even remember it? I am the lowest of low.

  “Let’s start with what you do remember. Can we do that?”

  I sit down across from her, stake claim on the mug of piping hot coffee in Grace’s hands and drag it across the table.

  “A lot happened last night. I don’t even know where to start. Can you tell me what you know? How you even knew to come here?” I take a sip of the coffee, concentrating on the hang-over-healing aroma. I can’t even look her in the eye.

  Through heavy eyelids I see Grace fold her hands and rest them under her chin. She scowls, completely distorting her beautiful face to show her discernment. Wonderful! This is going to be worse than any le
cture my mother ever gave me. When she starts, her tone is anything but maternal; it’s firm, commanding. She’s pissed. I can’t even look her in the eye. “Imagine my shock when I receive a phone call at two am from none other than Noah Matheson, telling me to come over because you were in bad shape. I had no idea what I would find. I thought he’d taken advantage of you and that I’d have to kill him myself. Turns out that he, at least, is a gentleman and was just worried about you and didn’t want to leave you alone overnight. He called me because he was afraid that your parents would come home early with the kids and everyone would jump to conclusions. Thank God, at least one of you had a half a brain last night.”

  I smile, letting out a sigh of relief. It’s all coming back to me now, and I am so glad I didn’t do anything I would regret.

  “Wipe off the giddy grin, Mia. Declan called me this morning.”

  I bring my hand up to my mouth, suppressing a gasp.

  “At first he was on the verge of hysterics and then, after he explained why he was calling me, from freaking Hong Kong, he calmed down and became a rational human being. A little too rational if you ask me. He actually used the phrase ‘If you love something, let it go. If it comes back to you...blah, blah, blah. What did you do, Mia? Better yet, why did you do it?”

  My first instinct is to cry, the hot tears threatening to explode from my weary eyes. This is just too much all at once, especially while fighting a major hangover. But my need to cry quickly turns into a hot-tempered anger. Who the hell is she to meddle like this? To decide what’s right or wrong? I’m a grown woman, and I can make my own decisions now.

  “Oh Grace, please, don’t even think about scolding me. You gonna go tell my father now? I know what I did and I’m not sorry. You have no idea what I’ve been going through. I’ve been alone...for months! He cheated on me. He made me doubt everything I was so sure of! He started this whole damn thing and now, because I’m second guessing things, I’m the bad guy? No, I won’t listen to you tell me that.” I am in tears. I know that, to her, I probably just sound like a child ranting about wanting to have my way, but this is how I truly feel.

  She hands me the paper she’s been holding. The incessant folding and bending has created a million and one little creases. “Well then, here you go. Looks like you got yourself a boyfriend. All your dreams are about to come true.” The sarcasm in her tone could put Chandler freaking Bing to shame.

  What is she talking about now? I stare at the tiny, crinkled note in disbelief.

  It’s from Noah.

  Mia,

  Please call me when you get this. I’ll be worried sick until you do. You were pretty trashed...please don’t hate me for calling your friend, but I didn’t know what else to do. Last night was incredible...my only regret is that it took over ten years to get there. As much as I tried I couldn’t “save the night” and that’s why I have to see you again. I know you’re going through a tough time and I don’t want to make things more complicated, but...just call me.

  Love, Noah

  I read the letter over and over, at least ten times. It’s a lot to process, but somewhere in the jumble of mixed up conversations from last night I remember talking to Noah about something like this—spending more time together, the future. He wanted to see me again. I agreed. So what do I do now? I’m not exactly in the position to jump into a full-fledged relationship. The idea of dating while still married sounds ridiculous. Wrong.

  I turn to Grace, completely confused. “You think I’m nuts, don’t you?”

  She shakes her head, springing out of her seat to pace the floor. She yanks the note out of my hand, taking it with her as she refills her coffee mug. “Honestly, Mia. Did you plan this? Did you go to the reunion with intentions of hooking up with Noah to get back at Declan?”

  I know it must look that way, but that was never my objective. And the idea that Grace could think that little of me really hurts. “Of course not! I can’t believe you would think that. I don’t know how many times I need to explain it to you...Declan fucked this all up. Not me.

  “Sure, things seemed okay for a night or two before he left for the trip, but with all this time to think... Declan was right, there was a disconnection and it happened long before I stepped foot in that reunion. Even if nothing had happened with Noah, I still would have called Declan and told him the same thing. I’m not ready to pretend that all’s forgiven, Grace. It’s not even the cheating that stings the most—it’s that he gave up on us. He did it because I wasn’t fulfilling some type of need...whether it was physical or emotional, who the hell knows, but either way that’s the crime here...that he turned his back on me, his family, and took matters into his own hands without even consulting me.

  “Now I’m taking matters into my hands, and it has nothing to do with retaliation. There was something there last night with Noah, something that’s been a long time coming. You of all people should know what this means to me. In high school he was all I could talk about and in my adult life he’s all I dream about. Maybe that’s been a sign all along. Declan did make me very happy once upon a time, but he found a way to turn the fairytale into a nightmare. Maybe I should I have listened to my gut when I felt like running scared on my wedding day. But I didn’t and today, in the here and now, I need to go with my gut and follow through with Noah. I’m can’t ignore it this time, so you can call me crazy, tell me I’m a bitch…but I need to see where this goes.”

  I’m breathless from my speech, but I don’t think I could have gotten it out better had I organized and outlined and listed the pros and cons about Noah and Declan. My spontaneous sermon came from the heart and if it can convince me that I’m doing the right thing, it should be enough to convince Grace too.

  “Do what you want, Mia. You’re right. I can’t tell you what to do. But this isn’t going to be all peaches and cream, you know? Declan’s okay with it now because he knows he messed up, but you won’t be able to string him along forever while you date another man. And did you even think about Noah? If you’re not careful you are going to make him feel used, especially when you wind up back with your husband—where you belong.”

  My head is spinning and it’s not just from the hangover. Grace makes valid points, and my heart is clearly torn between right, wrong and just following what it wants to do. There are so many scenarios to consider it’s not even funny. And in all of them someone gets hurt.

  “Grace, I need your support right now. Please, instead of the voice of reason can you just be my best friend?” I plead with her.

  She’s always had a knack for getting me out of trouble, but this time I don’t want her help. I want her to shut up and let me do what I need to do. Is that too much to ask?

  She places the note on the counter and returns her hands to her side. She closes her eyes, lifting her head up towards the ceiling—perhaps it’s a form of meditation, or a beckoning for some kind of divine guidance. After a deep breath in, she clenches her jaw, relaxes her rigid stance and lets out a long huff of air. When she opens her eyes, her expression has softened. “I will always be your best friend...no matter how much you screw up. And I would never make you go through all of this alone. So even if I think you’re making a mistake, I’ve got your back.”

  I rise up from the table and walk over to hug Grace, realizing now that I’m still only in a t-shirt and underwear. Between my lack of clothing and my smeared make-up, I imagine my appearance has painted quite the image.

  Grace finally takes in my appearance, shaking her head, but stifling a laugh at the same time. “Look at you. You dirty stay-out. Lindsey Lohan called, she wants her look back.”

  “Really funny!” I close my eyes and lift my head to ceiling, taking in a deep breath. “What’s next, Grace?”

  “So now you want my opinion?”

  We stand shoulder to shoulder, as Grace searches for the right words.

  “I can’t believe you’re finally dating Noah Matheson...as a married woman.” Grace’s eyebrows arch all the w
ay up to her hairline as she shakes her head.

  “Talk about bad timing.”

  I reach behind us and pick up the note, manipulating it with my fingers. I smile when I think about being in his arms, kissing him. Nothing, not even the shame of today, can take away the sparks that flew last night.

  Grace interrupts my beautiful daydream. “Wow, I haven’t seen you smile like that in...”

  “I know, Grace. I shouldn’t be acting like a giddy teenager, but that’s how I feel.” A pang of guilt and worry overwhelm me. Am I making a colossal mistake?

  I reread Noah’s words: last night was incredible...my only regret is that it took over ten years to get there. I can’t let another ten years go by living in regret. That’s what got us here in the first place—Declan’s regrets. Damn Declan, and his goddamn doubts!

  I want to blame everything on his mistakes, but that wouldn’t be entirely fair. And if I’m going to be fair to myself I have to block Declan out right now. I’m sure I was the furthest thing from his mind when he picked up a random stranger at a bar. Declan and his stranger would have gone their separate ways after their secret rendezvous. At least I have a history with Noah. Then again maybe that’s worse. With Noah, there’s no denying feelings are involved. And the idea of feelings for someone other than my husband is scarier than a Stephen King novel.

  Four days, three arguments with Declan, and two bottles of wine later, I am preparing for my first official “date” with Noah.

  Declan is still in Hong Kong, and I hate to admit that I feel a little like the mouse getting out to play while the cat is away. But at least this mouse had the decency to inform the cat of her intentions. Doesn’t mean the cat was necessarily happy about it.

  After deliberations that could shame the jury in the O.J. Simpson trial, Declan and I have decided that when he gets home he will move out and share custody with me, having the kids every other weekend. We didn’t feel the need to contact a lawyer or draw up a formal agreement. Declan keeps calling it a trial basis. I don’t have the heart to tell him that this may very well be a permanent end. Either way, the ultimate goal is for this to be as amicable as possible. The girls have already gotten used to seeing less of their daddy; we don’t need them asking questions. Especially when neither of us has the answers.