by Michelle Lee
“Dash…” I exhale, my body trembling with need. “I need you too. Please?” I tell him so much with so little.
His eyes don’t ever leave mine as he carefully reaches over to open the bedside table drawer, searching for a foil packet. He fumbles around a little, because he still hasn’t torn his eyes away from mine. Dash finds the condom, bringing it to his mouth to rip it open when I stop him. I notice every muscle in Dash stiffens. I can only imagine he’s thinking I’ve suddenly changed my mind. But how could he think that for even a split second? I want to be with him. I need to be with him. His expression shows me that’s exactly what he’s thinking. Attempting to squash the insane idea, I reach up and gently caress his cheek and kiss him ever so tenderly. I take the condom from him and toss it aside. I want to be with him, just him, with nothing between us. Dash looks at me with the most confused look on his face. I know we’ve discussed in detail our sexual histories. We’ve talked about that we’ve both been tested, but this wearing a condom was something Dash always insisted on. Safety first—my safety first.
“Dash,” I begin my nerves evident. “I… I want to feel you. I want you to feel me. We’re still being careful, I’ve been on the pill a… well, a long time, not because I was sexually active or anything, but to, well… girl stuff… Anyway, I trust you… I trust us.”
“Are you sure?” he questions. I know he doesn’t want me to do something I really don’t want to. But I want this more than I’ve wanted anything before. I want this with him. Desperately.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life,” I confess without hesitation.
Dash nods, and I take the initiative and pull him to me—our lips meet. An electrical spark ignites from where we touch, and I feel more alive than ever. Our tongues seek the other’s and they tease and massage each other as our kiss deepens. I scoot myself lower on the bed so his cock is perfectly positioned at my entrance. Dash reaches down and grabs ahold, places the head at my slick slit, and gently pushes inside. I relish the way he feels, the way he fills me. I moan, my back arching, pushing my pelvis forward. He slowly pushes into me, my muscles constricting him. Dash feels like home.
He begins to move, pulling in and out slowly, all the while his eyes never leave mine. The room is silent except for the increased beating of our hearts and breathing. Neither one of us says anything, neither one of us closes our eyes. It’s just me, it’s just him, it’s just us and this moment.
My hands work their way down his back, gently massaging along the way. I cup his ass, pushing him even deeper. Dash groans in response to the sensation of completely filling me. My hands aid in his movements, pushing against his pulling, causing a friction that is unbelievable. I begin to feel my muscles constrict, and I know he’s right there with me.
With the only sound of our panting and moans, we reach our orgasm together, both of us spiraling while our eyes are locked together. The overwhelming emotion that I am experiencing is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. This goes beyond the physical, what we have. It is so much more. I love Dash more than I’ve ever loved any man in my entire life. I had to go through what I went through to get to him—I was meant to love him.
Knowing what I’m feeling, Dash rolls me over so we are lying side by side. I stare deep into his eyes, trying to express with my own the words I so desperately want to say, but if I do, I’ll lose it completely. So I kiss him. I put everything I have and everything I am into this one kiss, hoping he understands what I am trying to say. I run my lips against his, then Dash pulls away, embracing me. My body shivers, and I feel wetness against his skin. I didn’t realize a tear escaped. Dash holds me tighter, his fingers swirling intricate, soothing circles on my back. I feel a sudden sharp pain in my chest and a lump in my throat as another rogue tear escapes and slides down my cheek.
After I gain control of my emotions—so I can be strong for him because he needs me to be—we take a shower together. At first, I don’t think it is a good idea because I am afraid that one thing will lead to another, although that wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing. However, a stronger part of me thinks if we keep making that connection, it will be harder in the long run. So, we just shower. I wash Dash and he washes me, and it was more intimate than if we had had sex. I never thought washing someone could be such an intimate act, but like with all things I’ve discovered and I’m learning with Dash, nothing is what it always seems.
We quietly get dressed, sneaking in glances at the other. Our clothing matches our mood: gray and black. I sweep my hair up in a simple ponytail. Dash finishes lacing up his shoes and walks over to me.
“Ready?” he asks, his voice rough and raw. He brushes a loose hair behind my ear, his eyes glistening.
I nod.
He takes my hand, and with his luggage in tow, we walk out into a surprisingly bright Seattle morning to the awaiting limo. I don’t know how I’m going to survive this, but I know for him I just have to.
DASH AND I ride in silence on the way to the airport. My head rests on his shoulder, our bodies so close, so connected, I feel as if we are one. Our fingers are intertwined between the slight gap of our touching legs. The air in the limo is thick with the reality of the situation, there is no escaping it. He has to go on tour, leave the country; and I will stay here, far away. Reality sucks.
The limo finally arrives at the private jet charter hanger. Dash exits the limo and pull me into his arms when I finally get out. I notice Vic and Lance already boarding the plane. Dash notices them too. He nods to the guys and immediately turns his attention back to me. Our eyes meet. No words are said as we just look deep into each other’s eyes. My heart constricts in my chest. Tears threaten, but bravely I hold them back.
“Hey, Dash, we need to get going,” Roland calls from the bottom of the stairs to the jet.
Dash nods.
“Well, I guess… you should get going.” My voice is barely above a whisper.
“Yeah.” He doesn’t move.
He rubs his hands up and down my arms, the gesture reassuring but still not enough. Dash’s hands still when I notice Roland motion for him to come on. He leans down and presses his lips to mine. I hesitate for a brief moment, not wanting him to go. I lean into him, my hands clutching his shirt. Dash deepens our kiss, his tongue slipping out and tracing the contour of my bottom lip. I part my lips, and his tongue seeks out mine. Everything we feel is put into this one last kiss. Dash places one single, tender kiss on my lips before pulling away.
He looks deep into my eyes, and a lone tear streams down my cheek. The expression on his face is pained, and it just breaks my heart that I may have put it there. Stupid tear. Dash draws me into his chest, and his arms wrap tightly around me while he places several kisses atop my head. He breaks our embrace and reaches his hand out. With the pad of his thumb, he erases the tear marking my cheek. I lean into his touch. He tenderly kisses me one more time before he rests his forehead against mine. His eyes squeeze shut.
“Dash, I… I don’t want… want you…”
“I know, Sunshine… I know…”
Nothing else is said as we just stand there in each other’s arms. My heart is breaking inside. My head is pounding. I need this moment to last and to end at the same time.
“Dash?” I barely get his name out.
“Yeah?” His voice sounds like mine, raw and broken.
I pull away and look up at him, then I look to the plane, seeing an agitated Roland. I quickly look back to him. “You should get going, I don’t want you guys to be late for your next flight.”
“Don’t you worry about my next flight. It can fucking wait. It’s just you and me right now.”
I hug him and then reach up on my tippy toes to whisper into his ear, “I love you. Soon.”
He smiles down at me with my favorite rock star voodoo smile. “And I love you. Soon.”
He hugs me one last time, pulling my body as close to his as possible, and then heads for the plane. Dash turns around, walkin
g backwards, just staring at me, his bright smile still in place. He slowly walks up the stairs, while I’m still standing perfectly still by the limo. He hesitates at the door. I smile and wave, his actions then copy mine. I mouth the word “soon” again, and he enters the plane. It feels like my heart is leaving on that plane with him.
THE LIMO STARTS to pull away and I stare out the window, my eyes never leaving the plane. Dash is no longer visible, and I fight back the tears that are threatening to overtake my entire being. Soon, soon, soon, I keep saying to myself over and over. I told him soon. I will do what I have to do in order to see him while he’s on tour. The plane eventually becomes a dot in the distance as the limo pulls out into traffic.
“Excuse me—could you stop by a store before taking me home?” I ask the limo driver, my voice shaky.
“Yes, miss. Any store in particular?” he questions, his tone sensing my pain.
“Um, any grocery store will do,” I answer, my bottom lip trembling.
“No problem. We’ll pass by a couple on our way,” he replies as he puts up the partition, giving me privacy.
I simply nod as our eyes meet in the rearview mirror before the barrier seals completely. I am left alone, all alone. The tears slowly build in my eyes and spill over. Quiet sobs rake through my body as I let the emotionality of the situation overtake me. The word soon continues to echo in my head, trying to fill the hole that is ripping through my chest.
Dash and I have only been dating for a short while, but already he has become “my everything.” The connection we share is unlike anything I have ever experienced. It’s almost the thing fairy tales are made of. In a short time, he has consumed my heart and soul. I love Dash, and it’s going to be hard to be so far away from him for so long. Soon. Soon. Soon.
I blindly reach into my bag trying to find a damn tissue. I pull out what I think is a tissue, but it turns out to be a piece of paper instead. I closely study the paper, not recognizing it. I clearly don’t remember shoving it in my purse at any point in time. I open the folded paper and the words before me pull at my heart. The tears continue to stream down my flushed cheeks with more ferocity.
Sunshine,
You’re my heart. Take care of it.
I’ll miss you more than you’ll know.
Yours,
Dash
How? When? I don’t remember him giving this to me, and right now, the how or when is pointless. I clutch the note, as if it were a lifeline, to my chest and hug it. It’s a piece of Dash, and the words he’s written mimic how I feel. He has my heart with him as well. A small smile tugs at my lips, and the tears slowly cease their barrage. I reach back into my bag, finding a tissue and dabbing my eyes and cheeks dry. I take several deep, cleansing breaths as the limo slowly turns into the parking lot of the supermarket; I’m in some desperate need of ice cream. Lots of ice cream.
The limo driver pulls up front, and I slowly climb out. The sun has settled behind some clouds, and the sky is slowly taking on its usual gray color. The change from bright, cheery, sunshine to gloomy, dismal gray definitely mirrors my feelings. I walk into the store and grab a cart. I was just going to grab one of those carry bin thingys, but with the amount of ice cream I require, I need a big-ass cart.
Like a damn zombie, I navigate through the store to the ice cream aisle. I know I am turning into the classic cliché of a girl upset and depressed and who needs to drown her sorrows in fucking ice cream. The alternative is drowning my sorrows in some seriously expensive bottles of wine and then waking up the next morning with a fucking hangover. Wine hangovers are the worst, as far as I’m concerned. I think I’d rather suffer the pain of gaining a few pounds as the result of a self-induced ice cream coma. So, ice cream it is. Fuck the damn cliché.
As I approach case after case of ice cream, I am suddenly overwhelmed. What do I pick? I turn my attention to the case containing Ben and Jerry’s. I’m not the biggest ice cream eater, but there is something about their flavors and their names that can’t help but put a smile on one’s face. So, Ben and Jerry’s it is. I study the containers closely, wanting to choose the right mix of flavors. I first grab something very familiar and comforting—Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough. Can’t go wrong with ol’ reliable, plus it plays nicely with the more exuberant flavors. As the chill from the freezer sends goose bumps up and down my arms, I grab two more tubs of my drug of choice—Dublin Mudslide, because I think Dash has a concert there, and Cherry Garcia, because last night, Dash fed me a cherry and licked chocolate sauce from my skin. A warmth spreads over my chilled skin at the thought of our last night together.
I continue my search for a few more containers of the good stuff, and I am ultimately satisfied with my selection of my seven new best friends. Yep, I have totally turned into that fucking cliché. I make my way to the checkout and begin to place my items on the counter. I turn to look at the magazines present, as I have done a thousand times before, and something catches my eye. It’s a small picture in the top corner of one of those celebrity mags. It’s a picture of Dash and myself. The caption reads, Is Redemption Lead Man Making Sweet Music with a New Lady? I immediately grab the magazine, and my eyes intently stare at the picture. I instantly thumb through the magazine, trying to find the article.
I finally come to a page near the back. The brief article simply states that Redemption’s lead singer Dash Ford has been seen around Seattle lately with a certain unknown brunette on his arm. The picture with it is the same from the cover, and it really doesn’t show me at all. Actually, it’s almost as if Dash is shielding me from the lens, like he knew it was being taken. My heart begins to race, and everything seems a little spinney. I think I would have begun to hyperventilate if I didn’t have the counter loaded with melting ice cream and for the simple fact that you can’t tell it’s me, unless you know me. I add the magazine to my truckload of ice cream.
The cashier rings up my items and gives me a look of concern and pity.
“Breakup?” she questions.
“Uh, no, my, um boyfriend just left for a long business trip,” I reply, not wanting to divulge too much information.
“First time apart?” she questions further.
I get wanting to give good customer service, but this is fucking ridiculous. Who the hell does she think she is, Oprah Winfrey or something? I just nod my head, hoping that my lack of verbal response will stop her fucking line of questioning. Apparently she gets the hint because the interrogation ceases.
I pay for my new best friends and make my way out of the store. When I step outside, there is a light drizzle coming down, and it just completes the way I am feeling. Dash is the sun that shines in my life now, and with him gone, nothing but gray clouds shadow me.
Shielding my face from the drizzle while lugging two bags filled with my new best friends, I climb into the limo. The driver has put on some soothing music, and I am grateful. We pull out into traffic as the rain begins to pelt the window harder. I can’t help but begin to wonder what Dash is doing, and the tears threaten to take control of me once again. I manage to keep them at bay. The driver finally pulls up to my building, and I gather my things and begin to exit the car.
I turn to him, hoping I can keep it together a little while longer. “Thank you.”
“No problem, Miss. Mr. Ford wouldn’t have it any other way,” he says with a comforting smile.
The mention of Dash is enough to start the barrage of tears again, but I resist. I simply nod my thanks once again, and quickly, yet as carefully as I can, make my way into my building. The elevator doesn’t give me the privacy I so desperately need. A couple enters when I do. They are holding hands, and she is nuzzling into his neck; he gently kisses her temple, and she giggles. My heart breaks a little more as the scene before my eyes unfolds. Suddenly the young couple morphs into Dash and me, and I can’t escape the pain that is crippling me. I hug my bags close to my body, trying to wrap my arms around my torso, hoping to prevent and stop the onslaught of emotions and loss tha
t claw at every inch of me.
The elevator dings, signaling my floor, and I leave the happy couple alone. Alone. I’m alone. I make my way down the hall, finally reaching the sanctuary of my apartment. With a trembling hand, I unlock the door and walk inside. I am welcomed by darkness. It covers every corner not only of my apartment but now my soul. I have never felt like this before, and I really don’t know what to do in order to stop feeling this way. I just want to feel anything but. I turn my attention to the bags in my hands and place them down on the counter in the kitchen. I rummage through the drawer until I find the biggest spoon I can. I’m not gonna do this drowning my fucking sorrows in a tub of ice cream half assed. A big spoon is in order.
I grab a couple of containers from the bag, put the rest away, and head toward my bedroom. My apartment has an eerie quietness about it, and I really don’t want to fill it with any sounds, other than Dash’s voice and laughter. I flop down on my bed, curl up, and dig in. The coldness from the ice cream begins to numb my insides, but the pain only diminishes a fraction of what I need it to. It’s still very present, in the forefront of my being. I take a few more ginormous spoonfuls, avoiding a brain freeze when my body begins to tremble and the sobs and tears start their torrent again.
I finish Cherry Garcia, and I can’t will myself to open the next. I toss the container and spoon to the floor and grip my knees to my chest, Dash’s note firmly in my grasp, curling into the fetal position. The onslaught of tears and shuddering continues. I can’t stop them. They keep coming like waves bashing against the shore in a hurricane. Yep, I’m right in the middle of a fucking storm, and there’s nothing to do but ride it out. I feel my lids grow heavy, and I finally succumb to the weight of the situation. My sobs have turned into hiccups interspersed with the occasional ambush of tears. Darkness further creeps into the room as day slowly turns into night. I haven’t moved. I don’t think I could even if I wanted to. I’ll give myself a day or two of this, then I’m putting on my brave face and going on with my life.