by Lindsey Iler
“It hasn’t been that long since high school. We can’t put too high of an expectation for maturity on her.” I laugh at the idea of a fully mature Violet. The world will be a less humorous place when she decides to tamp down her wicked ways.
A strange silence falls between us, but neither of us does anything to rectify it. Instead, we inspect each other. Lust overcomes me. I bite down on my bottom lip. Graham releases the pressure with his thumb.
“Why don’t you go upstairs and find that bathing suit?” He smirks. “I’ll meet you out back.”
I head up the stairs, taking the time to ensure I don’t fall flat on my face. I know Graham’s eyes are on my ass the entire way. Violet’s suitcase is sitting in the hallway where Mark left it earlier this morning. As I reach for the zipper, a hand pops out of an open door.
“Looking for this?” Violet asks. The black bikini dangles in front of my face.
“How the fuck did you even get up here?” I storm past Violet, angry she’s right about me needing to pack a bikini, and even madder I have to wear this slip of fabric.
“That door actually leads down into the kitchen.” Ah, the one I wondered about when I was snooping earlier. “Where’re you going?” she questions my abrupt exit.
I stomp my feet, make my way back to Violet, snatch the minuscule fabric from her grasp, and stomp back to Graham’s room, slamming the door in my wake.
“Have fun.” Violet singsongs. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“Eat a dick,” I shout through the closed door.
“No, that’ll be you, princess. Do us all a favor and make sure you’re out of the hot tub. Wouldn’t want you drowning or anything.” Violet’s laughter echoes as she skips down the stairs.
I suddenly find myself questioning why I allowed her to bulldoze into my life freshman year.
Not wanting to leave Graham waiting for too long, I slip my clothes off and slide the soft black fabric over my body. When I turn to the full-length mirror on the inside of his closet door, I’m surprised. The ties lay effortlessly on my hips, and when I turn, the material accentuates the ass I’ve earned at Bayview. I twist the top until I’m covered evenly, and realize, to no avail, my tits are on display. I shrug my shoulders at my reflection and walk out of the room.
I prance down the stairs, a confidence I haven’t had in almost a year. In the back of my mind, I worry I’m not going to equate to what Graham expects or wants anymore. Old habits die hard, and a majority of my time has been spent second guessing my own appeal. This is another thing Jackie has explained is perfectly normal for my recovery.
When I hear the whistles and obnoxious hoots and hollers, I realize my mistake. The cloud of excitement from being near Graham again has made me forget to cover up. Now I stand, in the middle of the kitchen, wearing only an itty bitty bikini.
“Goddamn,” Rick shouts, ducking around Amanda. He folds his arms over his chest and leans against the front of the island. “You look hot.”
“Shut up.” I walk past them all.
“Seriously, you can keep it,” Violet says. “There’s no point for me to put it on. I won’t do it justice.” A harsh slap rings across my nearly bare ass.
I turn around, my arms stretched out to the sides. “That good, huh?” My eyes scan to Amanda because I know she’ll be honest.
“Remember that time I told you I would consider having a lesbian experience in college …” Amanda sighs.
“Yeah?” I smile because only Amanda would phrase her answer like that.
“Oh yeah, sweetheart. You look like a video vixen. Now, if we could only get you to shake your ass like one.”
Over my shoulder, I grin and dip my hips from side to side. She reaches across the island and pushes the bottom of Rick’s and Mark’s jaws up, making me giggle.
Violet waits until the back door is wide open and shouts, “Don’t forget to get out of the hot tub before you eat a dick, Kennedy.”
With a yank, I slam the door, but not before Graham and I hear their roars of laughter. I glare through the window and nearly slip on the wet wood, catching myself before I fall on my face.
“Eat a dick, huh?” I hear Graham’s soft laugh, but my eyes burn holes through the glass. His hand slips into mine, pulling me away from the commotion.
When I turn, his gaze travels over my entire length. I wiggle under his intrusion, an intrusion I’m more than willing to endure if his eyes are telling me what I think they’re telling me.
“Maybe the hot tub is a bad idea.” Graham skims his hand over the top of the water, wetting the ends of his fingers.
“It’s cold out. I’m either getting in or running upstairs to change out of this.” I ghost my hand over the black material.
Graham’s mouth falls open, and his admiration is evident in the way he leans forward, begging to come closer.
“Get in the hot tub,” he demands, an urgent rumble behind his words. “Seriously, Kennedy, get in the hot tub.”
My eyes widen at his tone, but I don’t argue. The air is crisp. Flutters of snow begin to fall from the sky. Graham follows behind me, but instead of sitting next to me like I expect, he chooses the seat furthest away.
Music begins to play. It’s a familiar song. A song I once loved. My eyes scan over the inset system along the overhang of the back patio. The lyrics of “I Won’t Give Up” still ring true, maybe even more honest now than they were when we danced at the prom.
“They’re playing the role of the puppeteers,” Graham states.
“And we’re their puppets.” I finish the thought.
“They mean well.”
I twist my fingers together beneath the surface of the water. “The distance between us is suffocating.”
“Literal distance?”
“Literal. Hypothetical.” I scoff. “I don’t bite, Graham.” I tilt my head to the spot next to me. “You can sit closer if you’d like.”
He avoids my stare, awarding the yard with his attention. “No, I can’t.”
I stand, and take the small steps I need. His eyes turn up to my hover stance above him. I drop until my knees barricade him in, straddling his lap. Graham’s hands naturally fall to my thighs. “And why can’t you?”
Graham twists his neck, again, avoiding looking me in the eyes. I grip his chin, pull him to face me, and silently demand an answer.
“You can’t ask me questions when you’re wearing that,” he gestures to my suit, “and are rubbing your ass against my dick, Ken. It’s not fair.”
“Since when do we play fair?” I burst out in laughter.
“I’ve been trying my hardest … okay … Jesus!” Graham shouts. “Stop moving.”
I stifle my laugh because I hadn’t noticed my hips small movements.
My skin flushes. “Old habits die hard, it seems.”
“When I first saw you standing in my kitchen, I wanted nothing more than to kick everyone out, splay you out over the island, and bury myself inside you,” he confesses, rubbing his wet hands over his face. When they fall back into the water, his eyes soften. “And then, when you were wrapped in the towel and sitting on the edge of my bed, all I could think about was the first time we were together, and how I wouldn’t change a thing.”
“Do you remember our last time? At Violet’s?” My eyes tingle with tears. “I think about it a lot.”
“When you’re alone?” He attempts to lighten the mood.
I don’t allow it. Before we can do the fun stuff, we have to get the hard stuff out of the way.
“I’m always lonely.” His stomach tightens at my own confession. “But what I was going to say is, I think about it a lot. As always, you have this way of making me feel okay, and sometimes, okay is enough. Sometimes, okay is everything.”
“You were wearing that damn yellow sundress,” Graham reminisces, his stare unfocused.
“You were wearing those khaki cargo shorts and those aviator sunglasses I love so much. You walked through the back door of Violet’s,
looking for me,” I add to the story.
“You were cutting watermelon.” I nod, remembering prepping the food for the last time we would be together, at least until the trial. “What you don’t know is, I stood outside the back door for almost ten minutes and watched you move around the kitchen. You made something as minuscule as cutting up fruit seem rhythmic. I’ve never understood how you do it, but you never ceased to remind me of how magnificent you were. Are.” Graham corrects himself.
I smile at the sweet memory. “You walked up behind me and started tickling me.”
“At the time, you didn’t think it was funny. You yelled, threatening me with the knife in your hand.” He laughs at his sliver of the story.
“You always had a way of making me forget why I was mad in the first place.”
“I kissed your neck and you melted into me.”
We stop for a second, our eyes absorbing each other’s emotions. As if it could be our last time to read each other. As if the world will swallow our memories for us never to recall them again.
I drop the knife to the countertop and circle in Graham’s arms. On the tips of my toes, I balance to kiss him, but as I pull away, his hand wraps around the back of my head, tugging me close to deepen the exchange. His hands slide down my body until they reach my hips. He lifts me until the back of my bare thighs hit the cold marble.
I gently poke his chest. “Everyone’s right outside.”
“So.” His lips fall to my neck, leaving a trail of kisses along my collarbone. Instincts kick into overdrive, and I twist my legs around his waist, pulling him in close.
“I know we said we’re going to wait. I know we said a lot of things, but Kennedy …” His words are desperate.
Without thinking, I deepen the kiss, and a familiar flutter radiates through my belly. My mind can’t process what it means, or how I’ll react, or how it will affect me. None of the handful of outcomes matters at this moment.
Graham’s hands wrap around me, pulling me into his arms. My legs wrap tighter to mold my body to his. He walks until he rests me against the laundry room door. Once again, as if they don’t have any choice, his lips fall to mine. We become a mess of desperation linked between our kiss. My fingers graze the bottom of his shirt, and I pull it to the sky, dropping it to the floor behind him. Our lips are quick to continue their journey. Graham reaches down, turns the knob, and the door swings open. As he carries me in, he kicks his foot out to slam the door behind us.
“Why the laundry room?” I break the memory. “Why not go upstairs?”
Graham’s eyes dilate. “It’s simple. It would have taken too much time.” I rub my wet hands along the length of his damp shoulders. “I needed to touch you,” he answers.
“God, you’re beautiful,” Graham whispers, setting me on top of the dryer.
I swallow back the lump in my throat. He notices.
His head dips to fully look me in the eyes. “If you aren’t ready, Kennedy, you need to tell me. I don’t want to pressure you. We both need to be ready,” he insists.
We’d spent those last two weeks figuring everything out. We spent an entire year not being in each other’s lives, and yet somehow, being in each other’s life. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a weird dynamic, the grace period for finding our comfort again. Graham was worried about overstepping, and I was worried I wasn’t pushing myself hard enough for him.
“I’m made of flesh, Graham. I tear, I rip, I break, but what I can’t handle is you treating me like I’m made of porcelain. So please, let me be the girl in my bedroom, and just love me.”
“That shouldn’t be too hard.” His fingers grip the bottom of my dress, sliding it up my thighs, over my torso, and finally, nothing blankets my skin.
Graham’s hands find comfort on the sides of my face. He leans in to kiss me but quickly moves down my neck to my bare chest.
My breath deepens with anticipation of what’s to come. A loud intake of air echoes through the room when I feel his warm lips graze my nipple, and then the other, taking the necessary time on both.
“Gra … Graham …” I mutter.
Through his long eyelashes, he peers up at me. “I know, babe.”
His experienced hands rest over the strings of my underwear. When his touch slips beneath the fabric and pulls them down my legs, they flutter to the ground with a loud, silent thud. The weight of them rests on my heart.
Unbuttoning his shorts, Graham allows them to drop to the floor, pooling at his ankles. I take him in, forgetting what it felt like to see him naked, and desperate to reach out and touch him. Any part of him.
Before I can act on my urge, Graham reaches between my legs, running his rough fingertips over my most sensitive spot. A visible shudder runs through me. I slip forward to entice him to go deeper. He dips one, then two fingers inside me, and I moan loud, loud enough to gain the attention of anyone who may walk by the laundry room.
He smirks the most telling smile, the one which screams he’s amused at my response. I reach between us and stroke him, aware of how familiar he seems to me.
I inch forward until my ass is on the edge of the dryer. Graham slips his fingers out of me, grabs the wallet in the back pocket of his shorts, and sheaths himself in a condom. He guides himself to my entrance. I patiently wait for the fresh burn of desire, and when I feel it, I wrap myself around him. We fall into a rhythmic dance, kissing every inch of skin we can reach, until we find ourselves teetering on the edge together.
“Nothing will ever compare to being with you,” I state, tucking my chin, and hiding out of embarrassment.
Graham forces my chin level, and his eyes soften. “It’s okay to feel that way, you know?”
“Sometimes there’s guilt with it,” I admit. With a deep breath, I continue. “Sex shouldn’t be easy for me. I understand that’s my reality, but when I’m with you, a comfort I never thought I’d find again is present.”
“You aren’t what happens to you, Kennedy.” He kisses me on the tip of my nose. His arms wrap around my waist, making me melt into him.
“Anyways …” I lean back, separating our skin. Space is needed from this conversation. “Tell me about Ben.” I change the subject.
The proud gleam on Graham’s face tells me everything I need to know. He laughs at a private memory, perhaps, or maybe he finds my subject change amusing. Either way, the smile is pure and unfiltered.
“Ben’s the type of kid you have to experience to understand. He’s strong-willed. Hell, he’s strong in general,” Graham explains. “He witnessed his father killing his mother. I’m not sure how, but his father must have been high, or maybe he didn’t care he was there, but Ben managed to hide under a side table.”
I cover my mouth to hold in the gasp. “Oh my god!” The image of Ben, the boy in the Batman pajamas and barefoot, hidden away out of fear for his own safety, breaks my heart.
Shame clouds Graham’s eyes. “It sort of makes my upbringing seem like Disney World.”
“It’s a different kind of pain to endure, is all.”
“Nonetheless, he was only five at the time. Far too young to witness such hatred, and too young to understand why he no longer had his mother looking after him.”
“Now I sort of understand why you’ve taken such an interest in him and that place,” I state. The pride is evident in my words. “You are Ben. Ben is you.”
“I don’t think he should go through life believing no man has ever cared for him. Coach did it for me, Kennedy. It’s time to do the same.”
I press my hand to his heart. “There’s the boy I’ve always told you about, Graham. He’s always been in there.”
Graham shakes the insecurities from his head. “You always believe in me.”
“Look at you. It’s hard not to.” A pregnant pause fills the space between us. “You’re here, even when you weren’t sure I would be. I may never understand why or how you managed, but I’m glad you did, Graham.”
“When the time was right, I had
every intention of convincing you I was what you wanted.”
My heart freezes at his words, then pounds. The skin tingles as I take a deep breath.
He leans in, brushing his fingertips over the droplets of water on my collarbone. “I hope your silence means you’re convinced?”
“I never doubted your love, Graham. Not once.” I slide off his lap but drape my legs over his. “Now, tell me more about Ben.”
“He’s energetic and funny. The kid has the best personality. He struggled with math for a while, but we finally figured out he doesn’t learn like most kids. The kid loves to read, which I know you can appreciate, and has this strange fascination with bookstores. We went on an outing last month, and the kid made me stop in every rundown bookstore, I swear.” Graham rattles off small, but important facts about a boy who has managed to change him in such a short amount of time.
“How did you find out about the place Ben stays at?” I ask, curious to what he’s been up to since our time apart.
“At Georgia, I hadn’t declared a major, because let’s face it, I didn’t know my left from my right there, but when I enrolled at UConn, I weighed my options.”
“What is your major?” I ask, realizing there are a million things I don’t know about Graham’s life.
“Psychology with a minor in criminal justice.”
“That’s amazing, Graham, but what does that mean for baseball?”
“Baseball is my first love, and if I can make it into a career, I’ll take the route leading there. But, I’d also like to make sure I have something to fall back on. A solid foundation to land on if my dreams don’t pan out the way I’ve anticipated my whole life.”
I shift until my legs are in front of me. With my head resting on Graham’s shoulder, I think about everything I know now. When I was struggling with my own demons, Graham wasn’t wasting his time with nameless girls and the debauchery I’d expected. Instead, he’s done everything he can to build a future for himself.
I stand, my hand outstretched to Kennedy. She’s happy to lock her fingers around my own.