by Blythe Stone
“What is it about me that attracts all of these people. There are prettier people, smarter, more accessible… I always just thought it was because of the chase. That they knew they couldn’t really have me.”
That sounded really conceited. I just wanted to take it all back now that I’d said it.
“I didn’t want to chase you,” Olivia said, annoyed. “I didn’t want to like you. I wanted the opposite. I don’t know why.”
She swallowed though and made herself come back to my question.
“You attracted me on accident, I think. You weren’t trying to attract me. You weren’t trying to make me fall to my knees and spend hours following you. I knew it wasn’t a fucking game. None of that was something you asked for or wanted. I just knew.. I knew we connected. I knew I liked the way you were mean to me. I knew you did nothing and I already cared about you. You saw me and you made me see you. You asked me a question that nobody asked. And after that it was everything Avery. Every little thing. The way I couldn’t tell what you were thinking. The way you made me feel desperate and strange without intending that. The way it seemed you were open no matter what. It was just confusing and it was a bit of torture but I can’t speak to all those other people and what they wanted or what they saw...”
She paused though and she did stop to think.
“With Skylar I think she saw you,” she said. “I think she could always feel what you were going through, at least, the emotions of it. She knew you were unhappy. I think she wanted to be there for you, always be there… And you wouldn’t let her in the same way you let me in. But she wanted you too and that hurt to be pushed outside. She wanted you to let her help you. She knew you were in pain. I actually feel really close to her emotionally. I can’t even really be mad at her for this thing tonight because I know what that would feel like to be her. I get what that feels like. I’ve lived there with you.”
“Thank you.” It was the first time I could understand it from a perspective beyond my own. I only saw my own flaws, love, and heart. I couldn’t see inside another soul. No matter how I wanted to see inside Olivia. We would always be two separate people bound together.
“It’s not just about one thing. It’s not just about you being good at things and you being beautiful. It’s your joy and your pain. How you show it. How you hide,” she went on.
“I couldn’t hide from you,” I said. “Everyone else… it was easy. Not from you. You called me out. No matter how much I didn’t want to feel anything like that. You are the one who made it okay for me to love.”
“You did the same thing to me, Avery,” she said. “I don’t think you know that. I don’t know how you can not know. You did the exact same thing to me.”
“I know. I do. I think it was always just hard for me to deal with someone actually seeing me,” I said.
My prior relationships had been surface. Mirrors for people to look in, directing an image back and never letting them get any deeper. Until Ben and he was just different. I never loved him. That was about self-hate.
I rolled over and looked around. Someone, Olivia I presumed, had set my phone on the nightstand. I picked it up to find it almost dead. There were twenty missed calls and a ton of texts.
“Skylar tried to call me.”
“That’s not surprising,” Olivia said.
I set the phone back down and rolled back over. I didn’t even want to read the texts. I couldn’t right now.
“I’m glad it’s spring break. I couldn’t imagine going to school on Monday.”
I pushed my hands inside her robe and moved one around to rest on her stomach. Feeling her made me feel better. She was a healing presence.
“You feel good,” she said, her eyes closed. I watched her face change just a bit, a spot of acceptance just there. “Are you thirsty? I can get you some water.” She seemed relaxed now, putting everything else out of her mind.
“You’re not getting up,” I flexed my hand to keep her with me. “I’ll be holding on to you for a long time.”
She smiled at that and relaxed a bit more.
“I told my mom you kissed someone in the kitchen…” Her face fell. “She said she was sure it was a mistake.” She was quiet a second more. “Holland thought I was suicidal.”
“What?! Oh my God…. Your mom knows?!” My forehead fell to her shoulder. “I’m going to have to explain.”
Of all the things that Olivia actually told her mom about it was me kissing someone else. Not that I blamed her. I couldn’t. If I saw Olivia kissing someone else. I’d freak.
“You’re not hearing me,” Olivia said. “There was no question for her. That’s exactly what she said. She said she was sure it was a mistake.”
“Well, she was right and I appreciate that she had that kind of faith in me. It must have made you feel like shit though,” I hugged her closer. She didn’t talk. She just let me hold her. “I can’t imagine being you tonight. So much to take. You can tell me to shut up anytime. I’m babbling.”
“What would you have done?” She asked. “If it was me.”
“I don’t know but I don’t think I would have run. Not right away. I would have probably made it worse.”
“How?” She asked, swallowing the nothing in her mouth. “Did you want me to get mad? Maybe hit you? Hit her… Would you’ve felt better if I did that?”
“No, I didn’t want you to hit her or me. I wanted to hit myself. I probably just would’ve yelled a lot and wanted to know why and what was going on. Then I’d run. Probably. I can’t really say. I try not to think about that kind of thing. After how I reacted to Natalie at first I just knew I was irrational.”
“You would've done something physical,” Olivia said, knowing it. “But I would've understood.”
“Not to you. Never to you. Not like that. Do you know how much I would have blamed myself? I’d just think that I’d done something to make you need to cheat.”
“I know you didn’t kiss her Avery.” She added, “I can't think of a situation where you could ever drive me to cheat.”
I could feel the wheels turning inside her head.
“Do you think I'm blaming myself?” She asked. “Do you think I drove you to this?”
“Good.” I hadn’t wanted to ask her if she knew that but I was so happy to hear that she didn’t. “And no, I don’t know what you’re thinking or who you’re blaming. I hope you’re not blaming yourself and no. I’d never think that.”
“I'm mad at myself but it's not for the reasons you think…” She said. “And I'm certainly not mad at you. But I am angry.”
“Why are you mad at yourself? You shouldn’t be. It’s hard not to be mad at yourself but you shouldn’t.”
“I just wish I was stronger,” she said.
“How are you not strong?”
She wanted to be strong and I was afraid of what that meant.
“I know you don't understand,” she said.
“But I want to. I feel like I’m always frustrating you because I can’t wrap my head around things.”
“You're not frustrating me,” she said. “There are just some things I don't want to say.”
“Because you don’t think I’ll get it.”
That frustrated me. To know that she was holding back things because I didn’t get them. It made me feel stupid.
“You'd just be mad at me. And upset with yourself. And that's all unnecessary.”
“It's like before,” she said. “There are just some things I can't say because I don't want to hurt you.”
“I’m not going to get mad at you for telling me. I’m frustrated because you won’t but if you don’t think I need to know…” I tried.
“That’s the thing. That’s just it. I can talk in circles. I can show you how annoying it all is in my head. I can go over every little thing. I can tell you everything. But I know it will hurt you. I know at the end you’ll have thoughts I didn’t intend for you to have. You’ll have more invalid fears that you don’t need,” she sighe
d. “If I tell you every little thing that I’m feeling and thinking right now we’ll both end up freaking out. That’s why I’m holding back.”
“You think I don’t hear you about things,” she explained. “You think I don’t know your insecurities. I live in your insecurities, Avery. Believe me, I know them.”
There it was. I could only think about that part. She’d been tiptoeing around my insecurity the entire time we’d been together.
“I’m the one who should be stronger. I need to be able to hear these things without freaking out.”
“I’m not saying that,” she said. “You’re very strong. You’re stronger than I am.”
She sighed again.
“I’m just saying I know what you’re thinking. I know what you’re thinking and I’m not going to press on all your alarms when I know that nothing was intentionally meant by this or by that.”
“Okay,” I accepted.
“You don’t see me like I see you. I know we’re different,” she said.
“Yes, we are. It’s a good thing.”
If we weren’t different it would never work. We were opposites in so many ways.
“Do you know how I see you though?”
“When you see me. Yes,” she said.
“How, then?”
“How, what?” She asked, peeved.
“How do I see you?” I asked. I wanted to know what she thought. I didn’t even care that she said I didn’t sometimes.
“You see me as someone who loves you unconditionally. You see me as I am.”
She paused a moment before adding. “I don’t need to ask you what you see.”
When she said things like that it made me feel like she didn’t think I was emotionally advanced. I felt small, stuck, and silenced. If I said anything it would make it all worse. I couldn’t. So I just stayed still.
“Avery,” she said.
“Yes?”
I relaxed a little, letting the word come out normal.
“Just… Stop thinking what you’re thinking, please. When I said I didn’t need to ask you I just meant I know you love me. I’m sure.”
“Tell me though,” she let out a breath. “Go ahead. How do you see me?”
“I can’t,” I whispered.
It was an answer to everything. Two words for both sentences. Yes, I loved her but it was a lot more.
She smiled. “Last time you said that, you said it to tease me.”
“I’m not teasing you. I just don’t have the words to tell you how I see you.”
“Okay,” she laughed, bringing her hands up to hold her face. “That is so not fair.”
“I know. It’s not words in my head. Its feelings and images and knowledge. You know how Math is a language but its numbers. This is like numbers vs letters. I could show you in a sunset or a skyline but I don’t think it would translate.”
“Are you trying to tell me I have value?” She joked dryly.
“I’m trying to tell you that you’re more than love and words. You’re everywhere and everything. You’re my religion but sometimes I sin and I can’t take it back. I just have to live with it.”
“What does it mean to you when you sin?” She asked, trying to understand. I’d officially peaked her interest on some other level.
“When you feel like I don’t see you. When I let myself get too busy and crazy. Anything that takes me away from you.”
To other people our relationship probably wasn’t exactly healthy. I didn’t care.
“No... What does it feel like to you? How do you hurt? That’s what you keep wanting me to tell you. You keep asking me to tell you how I hurt. It’s a hard thing to answer.”
“It’s dramatic,” I realized. “I feel kind of silly but I feel frozen and then someone takes a sword to my heart. When I realize what I’m doing anyway. Before, I’m oblivious.”
“When you feel that way… I want you to stop and remember what it feels like when I’m kissing you… Really kissing you.”
“Are you trying to reverse psychology me?” I couldn’t help but smile now. She was too wonderful.
“I’m not a religion. And I love you. I don’t want you to hurt.”
“Told you words didn’t explain it and I’m going to hurt regardless of what either of us wants. That’s just life.”
“You asked me for words,” she reminded. “This was your idea not mine. And just because you’re going to hurt doesn’t mean I want to be the cause.”
“You should know how crappy my ideas are by now. Just put your hand over my mouth and tell me to think about this moment.” I scoffed.
“I can’t say no to you,” she said.
“I’m torn about that. On one hand YAY and on the other I should be stopped sometimes.”
“I couldn’t stop you if I tried,” she smiled fiendishly.
“Oh really?”
I could see her face clearly in the light from the window. “Maybe I should test this.”
“Uh-oh,” she said, nervous.
“What? You usually like when I test boundaries. Are you afraid?”
“Nope,” she said, shaking her head with a glimmer of intrigue sparkling in the greens of her eyes.
I kissed her, holding her face in my hands. She just let me. We needed to reconnect. Not in a sex way but in all ways.
“I can never get over how beautiful you are.”
I smoothed my thumbs over her cheekbones and traced the line of her jaw with my eyes.
“You have no right to be that pretty.”
I kissed her again but I just wanted to look. See the green of her eyes and the way her lips parted when she was short of breath from our kisses.
“But don’t stop.”
She smiled and shook her head, pulling me down into her again, taking a kiss.
So often when I touched her she became listless and delayed. It was like time slowed for her and it took her extra-long to stop feeling the impact of every little thing that I did.
I’d be long over pulling away, staring down, and seeing how long it took her to register me inside.
I slipped my hand down her side, watching her reaction. Loving the change as I touched her.
“I want you,” I said, looking at her, seeing her.
She stared back, searching me. “You have me,” she said seriously, her breath still heavy from just kissing and just feeling my light touch. Sometimes I could feel her trying to read all my pages, searching everywhere, not wanting to miss a thing.
“I know. That’s not what I meant.” I slid my hand lower, dancing across her inner thigh. “I want you,” I repeated. “But I want to see you. I want to see your eyes.”
I heard her whimper and shudder out a shaky breath.
She really had missed me.
“It’s hard to keep my eyes open,” she said, already fighting herself.
My fingers moved without much thought. I could feel that she was ready. Her eyes stayed open as I slid through her folds but I was afraid that she would close them when she got closer.
“I know, baby. I like seeing you but you can close them if you have to. Just try and stay with me.”
I gave her a moment before pushing inside of her, almost closing my eyes in the pleasure. I kept them open though and watched. Her pupils dilated and her lips fell open. I wanted to kiss her but I stopped myself. I wanted to go slow.
I moved my fingers in and out of her, taking long strokes, turning it into a marathon instead of a sprint. The fighting, or the stress, maybe just her love for me? Olivia was very wet.
“Stay with me,” I whispered as her eyes blinked. She was trying to watch me. Trying to do what I wanted.
I started to go a little faster. There was no universe in which I could not be over excited by her. “Are you close?”
“Yes,” she pinched out, staring. It was hard for her to breathe. Her hands were on either side of her body. She had the covers balled up in her fists.
I slowed, stopping but staying inside of her, watching
her face change, seeing her look at me with confusion but I didn’t move.
“So mean,” she whined, shutting her eyes up tight and moving her legs up to try and turn her body onto its side.
“I’m just seeing…” I flipped her back, climbing on top and starting to move inside of her again. This time faster and with more purpose. I surprised her and it didn’t take long before she was spasming around my fingers. Surprise got her ready fast. I pulled my hand away and slid down her body to taste her. I wanted just a little bit and I wanted to feel it with my tongue as she came.
I took long tastes of her, swirling my tongue before stopping to climb back up the bed so I could see her again.
“Did I make up for being mean?”
“Never,” she panted.
“Oh, you need me to do it again?” I pretended like I was going to go back down her body, thinking she would stop me but she didn’t and I found myself hovering over her, looking up into her eyes.
“What do you want me to do, baby?”
“I just want you,” she said needily.
I reached up to pull her closer, parting her with my tongue and enjoying her slowly, eating up every sound that she made. I didn’t want to kill her though. I knew I could be too hungry sometimes.
I stopped for a second, looking up to find her eyes closed tight. “Are you okay?”
She nodded but her eyes stayed closed. “Don't stop,” she begged.
So, I didn't. I attacked her with my mouth, not thinking, just taking and tasting until she screamed out.
I slowed then, trying to calm her while she came but I just made it worse. I stopped, crawling up one last time to lay with her while she recovered.
She grabbed the collar of my shirt and pulled, kissing me until I moaned.
“I feel better,” I said when the kiss ended.
“Don’t stop,” she asked, thirsty, pulling me in and taking my lips again, this time trying to keep me.
I felt her hands, the weight of her body, pushing me back. She kissed me forcibly with a strong hand on my chest asking me to stay, saying it was okay.
“Don’t fucking stop,” she rasped, climbing ontop of me and stealing my breath. “I need you,” she said, suddenly openly pained.
I felt her hands on my face and in my hair, her tongue pushing deeper into my mouth as I tasted her exhale and tried to catch up.