by M. J. Fields
“It’s coming back fast. And thanks to your phone and the voice memo app, I can say a word and see how it’s spelled.”
“Damn, I never thought it would be hot to be around girls smarter than me,” he says as he lies on his side next to me. “Until now.”
“Smarter because of you.” I smile as he pushes some hair behind my ear.
“Nah,” he says, looking my face over. “Just a ‘right thing at the right time’ situation.”
“I’m a lucky girl.”
“And I’m a lucky guy.”
I wet my lips, leaning in to kiss his, but he leans back.
“I think you have a book to read to me.” He sets it on the bed.
I push myself up on my elbows and take a deep breath.
“You got this, Ray. Hell, you wrote the book.”
I let out the breath slowly and begin to read … out loud … as he holds the bag of ice to my head.
When I finish, his eyes are beaming with what I think is pride. “Nailed it.”
I get a ghost-kiss, and that is better than all those gold stars I never received.
Pride and perks
Trucker
“I’m so fucking proud of you, Ray. So damn proud.”
She reaches over her shoulder, takes the bag of ice, and then rolls to her side.
“I’m glad I trust you enough to”—she shrugs—“not share my issue with anyone.”
Oh fuck, I think, looking away from her for a second.
“It’s nice to have someone who will keep all your secrets safe.”
“Ray …” I lean in to kiss her to shut her up.
She turns her head. “Seriously, you are the best, Trucker Cohen.”
“I told Logan!” I sit up and turn my back to her. “I told Logan, Ray, but I’m telling you, he’d never say a word.”
I turn around to see she’s sitting up.
“He won’t.”
“He did.” She smiles and shrugs. “He did say something. He said something to me.” She slides off the bed.
“Ray—”
She picks up a box and turns toward me.
“No, fuck that. The bras and shit are yours. You can tell me to leave, which would be a really bad fucking idea and suck, Ray, but I don’t want the shit back, okay?”
She sets the box on the bed and looks up at me. “I’m not gonna give you back the bras.” With that, she grabs the hem of her gray V-neck that is way too big on her, lifts it over her head, and tosses it on the bed.
“Ray …” I start to take a step toward her.
She holds up her hand, giving me the stop sign, and then opens the box with the other. “I’m not that mad at you. I kind of like Logan.” She dumps the box on the bed and books fall out. “He’s your Shakeeka.”
“Not if he said some shit to you. I can’t believe he fucking—”
“First of all, he didn’t speak shitty to me. Second, Trucker, if I had a friend who loved me as much as he loves you, I’d probably—no, definitely—forgive him for saying some shit to me. Third, Logan doesn’t seem to be the dick type; just a little rough around the edges like you.” She picks up a book and looks at me.
“He brought those to you, didn’t he?”
She nods.
“Fucker never listens,” I huff.
“Fucker loves you,” she says softly.
I start to take a step, but she again holds her hand up, stopping me.
“Ray, I’m sorry.”
She shakes her. “I trust you won’t be angry at him.”
“Gonna give him a lot of shit.”
“Then I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, Trucker Cohen, because your best friend has been acting as a tutor.”
“He comes over here to see you?”
When she smirks and scrunches up her nose, I feel my eyes begging to pop out of their fucking sockets for the pressure building up in my head.
“Ray, give me something.”
She blushes. “I tried to on Monday.”
I shake my head.
She smirks. “You’re super attractive when you seem to be jealous.”
I step toward her, and she steps back.
“But no, he doesn’t. I send him a picture of the worksheets he insisted I do in texts every day.”
“Still makes me jealous.” I take another step closer.
“Although there’s no reason to be. I’d really like to see what it is you’d do if you thought there was any way possible I could even look at another man when all I do all day is think about the next time I get to see you.”
“Well, Ray”—I grab her hips—“you’d better step it up, because I think about the girl who sends me the sun every morning and gives me the moon at night.”
“I’d give you the stars, too.”
“You do that, Ray”—I let go of one of her hips to run my finger up the center of her sexy as fuck abdomen—“I promise I’ll keep taking your breath away.”
“Yeah,” she says with the little burst of air she gives me, the one that makes me feel like she’s giving life to me.
“You give me that every time you think I’m gonna kiss you.”
She closes her eyes.
“I’m gonna take more this time.” I flick my fingers over the clasp, and the bra comes undone.
Her eyes open, and she takes a deep breath.
“Oh, Ray, you took it away.” I lift her up so I’m eye level to her perfect, little reddish-brown nipples. Looking up into her eyes, I see she’s still holding her breath. “I’m gonna need that back.”
I lean in with all intention of going easy, but fuck if I don’t want her breath back.
I suck hard on the perfect fucking B’s that have been begging me from day one. And I don’t just get her breath. I get a fucking angelic choir in one word.
“Yes …”
I grab her other tit and squeeze it as I suck a little lighter now, afraid I may suck the fucking thing right off. I can’t get enough of her sweet-tasting skin, her scent that’s not perfumed but sweet, so fucking sweet, her sexy little noises, the way she gasps then breathes out a yes. Fucking yes.
I cup her ass in my hand as I suck her tit and let go of the other, placing it on her back to lay her down on her bed. Then I push the straps of her bra down each arm, one at a time, and pull it out from behind her, dropping it on the floor.
When I reach behind my shoulders and pull my shirt over my head, her eyes widen.
“No need to get nervous, Ray. I have B’s to suck. Just getting comfortable.”
She makes an almost painful face then cups her tits and squeezes them.
“Let me help you out.” I push one of her legs over with my knee as I grab her other ankle and pull it up to my hungry as fuck mouth, kissing down her leg while watching her squirm and whimper.
When I get to her shorts, I push them up and lick as close as I can get to her pussy with the shorts still on her body. She takes a deep, quivering breath and arches her back.
I lick her lower belly from hip bone to hip bone, then nip one, and then the next.
“Truuucckkkeerrr,” she whimpers, squeezing her titties.
“Oh, Ray.” I sit up on my knees and look down at her. “New plan.”
“Anything.” She nods eagerly. “Everything?”
“Holy fuck, you’re killing me, Ray.” I reach down my pants and stroke myself a few times to ease some pressure, but it doesn’t fucking help.
I watch as her eyes grow bigger.
“Offensive?”
She shakes her head. “So incredibly hot.”
I pull my hand out then lean down and grab her tits, pinching her nipples between my thumb and finger. “You’re the sexiest woman I have ever fucking met.”
She clenches her eyes shut. “I love you touching me.”
“I fucking like it, too.”
When she opens her eyes, a look of horror shows in them.
I pull my hands back. “Am I hurting you?”
“No. No, of course no
t. But I meant like,” she says, pulling the blanket over her body.
“What?” I laugh because I’m fucking confused.
“Nothing.” She smiles, sitting up and linking her hands behind my neck as she kisses me.
I pull back. “What just happened?”
She buries her head in my neck. “I’m not sure. Maybe I’m more nervous than I thought and—”
“Okay.” I hug her tighter. “Then we slow the hell down until you’re ready.”
She sighs. “I think that’s a good idea.”
I kiss the top of her head and inhale her scent. “You smell so fucking good.”
“I like the way you smell, too.”
“I’m glad,” I say, sitting back and looking down at her. “If not, we’d have a problem.”
She puts her hand on my abs and smiles. “Yeah.”
I lift her chin. “We good?”
She nods. “I’m tired. It’s been a long week. My head kind of hurts and—”
“Shit, I fucking forgot.” I lean down and grab the bag that’s partially melted from the floor.
She pulls the blanket over her body and closes her eyes. A small smile forms, and I feel a little fucking better.
“Ray?”
“Hmm?” she says, rubbing my chest.
“I’d really like you to get some sleep while I’m gone. Take a break on the reading if you need to. We’ll be back here late Saturday night, and I’m gonna want to see you.”
She smiles up at me, a big smile now. “You sure?”
“Are you kidding me?” I gasp. “Sure as the earth is round.”
She cocks her head to the side, and I scratch behind her ear. She giggles.
“Should I get going?”
“If you’d like to stay, you can.”
“You gonna let me sleep or—”
“Yes,” she says, lying down.
I get up and dump the melted water out of the bag before wrapping it in a hand towel. Then I put the other bag in the tiny freezer so it stays cold. I turn off the light in the hallway, and then the ones throughout the studio apartment, leaving the bathroom light on.
“You need anything?”
She yawns as she says, “Just the ice is good.”
“Of course.” I drop my phone on the table next to hers then slide in next to her.
She rolls over onto her front, and I set the ice pack on her head.
“Goodnight, Ray.”
“Goodnight, Trucker.”
On Friday, I didn’t want to leave her without waking her, but I knew she was fine. I also knew I needed to get my ass back to our place because I had told Logan I wouldn’t be staying. I wouldn’t have if I hadn’t been worried about her having a head injury.
That’s bullshit, too. I knew she didn’t have a concussion. I have had too many myself to not know the signs. I just didn’t want to leave her because I was sure I scared the fuck out of her being as rough as I was. Except, I was pretty sure she fucking liked it that way.
I replayed the whole night in my head over and over again, trying to figure out what the fuck caused the one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn while we were fucking around. Halfway to Pitt, I remember her saying she loved the way I touched her, so there was validation. Then it fucking hit me.
I told her I liked, not loved it, too.
“What’s up, man?” Logan elbows me.
“I think I pissed Little Ray off.”
He smirks. “Shocker.”
“No, really. It was a great night. She showed me the books you brought her after going over to her place and—
“Fuck,” he whispers, pulling his hat down over his eyes.
“Yeah, fuck. I mean, really, motherfucker?”
“Should say I’m sorry, but I’m not. You’ve gotta keep focused, man.”
“Do I need to staple a Do Not Trespass sign to her forehead?”
He sighs. “It’s not like that, man.”
“I know what it’s like, but I’ve got it, okay?”
When he doesn’t answer, I elbow him. “I got this.”
“Yeah, so you said. But you forget this conversation started with, I think I pissed Little Ray off, so don’t wait for an apology that’s not coming.”
“She said she loved the way I touched her.”
“Well, that’s good.”
“I think, when I said I fucking like it, too, it freaked her out.”
“Freaked her out that you like to fuck?”
“Touch. And no. The words, Einstein. She said love. I said like.”
He laughs.
“It’s not funny, man. And today, she didn’t send me the fucking sun.”
When he quirks his eyebrow at me, I immediately regret saying a fucking word.
“Fuck it.” I shake my head. “And fuck you.”
“Fuck you back,” he quips, leaning back and closing his eyes. “Do you like getting your dick sucked?”
“What the fuck kind of question is that?”
“Answer it.”
“Who doesn’t?”
“Do you like coming?”
“Seriously?”
“Do you like or love peanut M&Ms?” he asks.
“Fucking love them. And your old man better come to the game today and bring me some or I’ll feel like the ugly fucking stepchild.”
“Do you like or love when Ava gets the giant bag of them?”
“Is she coming?”
“Not the point. Like or love?”
“I fucking love it.”
“Yeah, and Ava gets all giddy when you make a big deal and act like she just gave you a million dollars, and that’s just M&Ms.”
“Not just M&Ms. Peanut M&Ms. And you know how much I love them.”
“Which do you love more: getting a blowjob or a giant bag of peanut M&Ms?”
“Depends on who’s sucking my cock.”
“Let’s say it was Keeks.”
“You gave her a fucking nickname?”
“Keeka doesn’t suit her.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“Answer the question,” he huffs
“I can’t wait till she sucks my cock.”
“Will you like it or love it, Trucker? Come on. Jesus, don’t overthink this.”
“I’ll love it.”
“Then fucking tell her that. Wake me up when we get there.”
Bad choice of words
Keeka
I’m pretty sure it took me several hours to fall asleep last night.
Why?
In the heat of the moment, I uttered a word to him that wasn’t returned. And even though it wasn’t meant to be returned, since it wasn’t a question or something that needed an answer but an honest, raw emotion he was feeling, I took his response, his feeling, his reaction horribly wrong.
When I tried to understand my reaction, it all came back to her, and who wants to think about their mother in a moment like that? No one.
Since he left before dawn, I have laid in bed, trying to figure out how to get past the feeling of immense vulnerability brought on by wanting him to feel the same way I do about him. And again, my mother and her issues with men who seemed to make her happy, so much happier than anything else in her life. Then when she would burn out and crash. Then, when she decided men were the problem and began dating women, I watched it all happen the same way with them.
The common factor was: her.
She was unhappy with herself, so unhappy that she tried to find happiness in others. Happiness she never found.
I want to be happy. I came here to get out from under the shadow of darkness she left behind, and so that I never have to look at that godforsaken bridge again.
I lie and wait until nine in the morning to call Shakeeka, needing directions back to my destination. To happiness.
I pick up my old phone and call her at one minute after nine.
“Mocha angel, is that really you?”
I grip the phone as I draw my knees up to my chest. Her voice s
prings out emotions I have tried to hinder for nearly six months
I manage to squeak out, “Hi.”
She laughs. “Please tell me you’re okay.”
“Yeah, I’m good.”
“Your job?”
“Good.”
“Your place?”
I look around and sigh, “Good.”
“It’s a boy then.”
“No. Well, yes, but no. It’s actually me.”
“It’s always us, angel.”
“Because we have the power to make choices.”
“We sure do.” She laughs. “Now tell me all about this boy.”
“He’s nice, really nice. He’s strong and focused and patient.”
“Oh, angel, I love him already.”
Her word choice makes me sigh then sort of laugh at myself.
“Angel, talk to me.”
“I’m not sure how to say it all without …” I pause and flop back on my bed. “He’s really nice. He goes to school here, but he’ll be moving away in the spring.”
“You’re falling for a boy, angel. There’s nothing wrong with that, unless you let it—”
“Consume me,” I whisper.
“You’re not your mother, child. Your mind doesn’t work the way hers did. But still, take her mistakes, count them as your lessons, and enjoy those moments you went in search of.”
“But I—”
“Enjoy them.”
“I will.”
“You better.” She laughs again, and so do I. “And don’t make me wait two months to talk to you again.”
I look down at the phone. “I’ll text you.”
“A heart now and again isn’t enough.”
“How about words?”
“What!”
“He’s helping me learn to read again.”
“That’s wonderful to hear! You have no idea how wonderful. When you’re ready, your mother’s journals are in that storage unit you insist on paying for.”
“I may not ever be ready.”
When we get off the phone, I look over and see the Trucker phone is now charged. When he fell asleep, I put his on the charger, knowing he would want it for his trip.
I power it on and “Click Click Boom” plays.