A Bluewater Bay Collection

by Witt, L. A.

  Sven laughed. “What do you care? You’ll be retired by then.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “And hey, I gotta ask . . .” He turned to me. “Who’s that dude you keep bringing around? He looks like the guy who works down at that porn shop.”

  I gulped. Was I ready to start throwing the word “boyfriend” around with my friends? “He’s . . . a friend. I’m teaching his kid to skate.”

  “Uh-huh. But he’s at the shop all the time, and his kid’s not.” Sven took a deep swig of Monster. “Is he the porno dude? ’Cause I know I’ve seen him before.”

  “Yeah, he works at Red Hot.” I smirked. “How often do you go there if you know what the employees look like?”

  “Whatever, dude.” He rolled his eyes. “I went there with Jenn, and she thought he was that author kid. The one who hooked up with the guy who wrote the vampire series.”

  “Why?” I asked. “She think that guy is the only Middle Eastern dude in this town or something?”

  He shook his head. “Who knows.”

  Kim laughed. “And why the fuck would he be working in a porn shop if he was with that dude? That guy’s richer than God.”

  “She didn’t think he worked there. She thought he was like a customer or something.”

  “Wouldn’t surprise me if he goes there.” Kim snickered. “You ever read those books?”

  I turned toward him. “They’re putting them on TV. They can’t have that much sex in them.”

  “Naw, it’s not much,” Sven said. “But Jenn swears the lead dude wants to fuck the—”

  “Hey, Cross!”

  The voice made my teeth grind. “Oh for fuck’s sake.”

  My friends both rolled their eyes.

  As I turned around, Billy approached, smirking like the asshole he was.

  So much for my chill mood. Gut clenched, I glared at him. “What do you want, Fallbrook?”

  “Got something for you.” He held up his phone. “Bet this is something you’ve never heard before.” Before I could tell him I didn’t give two shits, he tapped the screen, and immediately, my stomach lurched into my throat.

  “What the fuck?” I snapped. “Who the hell records his girlfriend in bed?”

  Laughing like the jackass he was, he stopped the playback. “Just thought you might want to hear what she sounds like when she’s getting off.”

  “Dude.” Kim wrinkled his nose. “That’s not cool, man.”

  Sven nodded, lips curled in disgust. “Seriously. Way to respect your girl.”

  “Whatever.” Billy nodded toward me. “Just busting his balls.”

  “Yeah?” Kim growled. “Maybe do that without using Aimee like that? Man, get the fuck out of here.”

  Billy snorted, shaking his head, and grumbled something as he walked away.

  “Man, what a dick,” Sven muttered.

  “Seriously,” I said through my teeth. “Aimee deserves way better.”

  They both eyed me.

  Sven pointed at Billy’s back. “You do know she was fucking him, right?”

  Jaw clenched, I nodded. “Yeah. I know. She cheated on me. But now she’s stuck with that asshole.”

  “Serves her right,” Sven mumbled.

  I didn’t argue. I didn’t have it in me. Those few recorded seconds of my ex-girlfriend in mid-orgasm had disgusted me. I couldn’t imagine what made a guy think that was something he should record and then play back for other people. But it had also hit a nerve. Probably not the one Billy had been aiming for, but still . . . a nerve.

  What did Billy do for her that I hadn’t? I’d gotten her off plenty of times. Enough that I’d immediately recognized what I was listening to.

  I searched the crowd for Aimee, and found her at the big half-pipe. She was focused on skating, and probably had no idea what her douche bag boyfriend was doing with a recording of her like that. At the moment, she was way too focused on her jumps, and on that double flip she’d been trying to master since long before we’d split up. She was getting there, too—the first flip was almost effortless now, and she was landing the second one, but kept losing her balance once she was back on the board. Flips like that were disorienting. She’d keep at it, though, and next year, she’d be unstoppable.

  As I slowly released my breath, a knot grew behind my ribs. This was so weird. It hadn’t been all that long since Aimee and I had been Aimee-and-Brennan. Holding hands. Living together. Mail addressed to both of us. Squabbling occasionally over taking out the trash or leaving dishes in the sink. Having sex like it was what we both wanted. Talking about things we might do in six months, a year, five years, as if it was just accepted that Aimee-and-Brennan didn’t have such a short shelf life.

  Now it seemed strange to imagine any of that had ever happened. It almost felt like those were someone else’s memories installed in my brain, and the woman practicing double flips on the half-pipe was a stranger.

  I took a deep swallow of water and got up to go back to skating. My ankle still hurt, but I felt like focusing on balance and wheels right now instead of—

  Balance and wheels.

  Just balance and wheels.

  * * *

  I was behind the register at the shop a couple of hours later, bored off my ass and playing on my phone, when the front door opened.

  My heart dropped.

  Aimee.

  She strode right up to me, looking me in the eye. “Hey. Can we talk for a minute?”

  “Uh . . .” I glanced around the store. Naturally, it was a slow day, and there were two of us on. And Sven was fucking off on his phone in full view of us, so I couldn’t play the “we’re super busy” card. Asshole.

  Facing her again, I took a breath. “Yeah. Sure. What’s up?”

  She swallowed, her cheeks darkening a little, and she eyed Sven. Then she gestured for me to come with her.

  Great. It was going to be one of those conversations.

  I came out from behind the counter and followed her to the other side of the shop, between the racks of wheels and a display of helmets. “What’s up?” I asked again.

  Pushing her shoulders back, she met my gaze. “Listen, I heard what Billy did at the park. And I just wanted to apologize. I had no idea he was going to play that at you.”

  I lifted my eyebrows. “Did you know he was recording it?”

  She scowled. “No.”

  “Then he’s the one who should be apologizing. To you, not me.”

  “That’s between him and—”

  “Aimee, you deserve better than him.”

  Her features tightened, and her eyes narrowed. I knew that look, and bit my tongue—it was that defensive, venomous glare she’d always given me when she knew she was wrong and wanted to shut down the conversation before she had to admit it. When we’d argued in the past, I’d pushed her until she’d given in, but this time, I didn’t. I didn’t have a dog in this fight.

  “I appreciate the concern,” she said, her voice taut but calm. “Except I don’t think my social life is really your business anymore.”

  I exhaled, then nodded. “All right. Fair. I was just concerned.”

  “I know.” She cleared her throat, avoiding my eyes for a second. “And, um, listen . . . I’m sorry again for what happened. Between us.” She paused before sheepishly adding. “What I did.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not. We had problems, but . . .”

  “But it’s given me time to do some thinking too.”

  “Really?” She cocked her head. “About what?”

  “Well . . .” Was I ready to tell someone? Was I ready to tell her? The truth was, I’d always been able to talk to her about everything, and I had to admit, I missed that. And even though we were facing each other as tense-but-civil exes now, I still felt like I could talk to her. Hell. Why not? Then maybe I could quit keeping this to myself.

  I wrung my hands, staring at them because I couldn’t make myself look at her. “About who I am, mostly.”
<
br />   “About— What?”

  Stomach twisting with nerves, I lifted my gaze. “Maybe you were right about me not being able to, you know, be what you needed.”

  She winced. “Bren. No. I was . . . I was trying to blame you because you caught me and—”

  “Maybe, but it got me thinking. And I think you might’ve been unsatisfied because I’m just not into sex.”

  “Not into it? What do you mean?”

  “I mean . . .” I swallowed, bracing myself to show a card I wouldn’t be able to put back up my sleeve. “I’m asexual.”

  She blinked, eyebrows twisting in that what the fuck are you talking about? way. “Huh?”

  “I’m . . . I’m asexual.”

  “Asexual? What does that even mean?”

  “It means I’m not wired to want sex.”

  “What?” She laughed humorlessly. “Bren, that doesn’t make sense. I’ve seen you get into sex.”

  I broke eye contact again, a sick, humiliated feeling clawing its way up my throat. “I get into making you—making my partner happy. But if I had the choice . . .” I shook my head. “I couldn’t care less about sex.”

  Aimee stared at me and fidgeted. “So, what? All those times we slept together, I was making you do something you didn’t want to?”

  “Not at all.” I held her gaze, wondering for a second when she’d become a stranger. “You wanted it, and I wanted you to be happy.” I shrugged. “I enjoyed it. It’s just not something I want for myself.”

  It had all made sense when Zafir explained it. And it made sense in my head. Or when we were lying in bed together, touching but not pawing, and everything felt like it was exactly the way it needed to be. Like literally sleeping with someone was all I physically wanted or needed.

  But looking into my ex-girlfriend’s eyes, watching the way her brow contorted and her head tilted as if I’d just said the most insane thing she’d ever heard . . . did it make sense?

  Eyes squeezed shut, Aimee put her fingers to her temples and shook her head. “Bren. No. This . . . Do you hear yourself?” She dropped her hands and met my gaze. “I mean, I’m sorry I hurt you. I really am. And I know I hurt you bad. But that’s no reason to swear off sex.”

  “I’m not swearing it off. I just . . . I just don’t want it.”

  “Then how the hell are you supposed to be with a girl?”

  “I—” Am actually with a man, but something tells me you wouldn’t react so well to that. “I’ll either find someone who’s like me, or if she wants sex, then I’ll keep her happy.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “A girl can tell when your heart’s not in it.”

  But she can’t say something to me before jumping into bed with a guy whose heart is in it?

  “Bullshit,” I said. “There was never a point when my heart wasn’t in it. If we were having sex, I was into—”

  “But you never wanted it. You never initiated it.”

  “Right. So why is it so hard to believe that I’m not wired to want it or initiate it?”

  “I’m . . .” She chewed her lip. “It just sounds like you’re jumping into something so you can write off what happened and not have to deal with it.”

  I swallowed. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean . . .” She pulled in a breath and looked me right in the eye. “Listen, you know how they say you shouldn’t make a huge decision for a year after someone dies? Like selling a house or something?”

  I nodded.

  “Maybe . . . maybe this is kind of like that. We didn’t break up that long ago, and now you’re completely changing your identity.”

  “I’m not changing my identity. This is me. It always has been.”

  Her brow creased. “Is it? Or is it just you trying to move on?”

  “It’s—” Well, it was a valid question. “The thing is, I was trying to figure out how to be a better guy for the next girl, and this is what I found instead. It made sense.”

  “Did it really?” She tilted her head a little. “Or did it just sound like an easier thing than—”

  “Oh, it wasn’t easy.” I laughed dryly. “Trust me—it took some doing to get my head around it.”

  “So it was a nice distraction.”

  “It . . . No. No, it wasn’t that. It . . .” What was it, Brennan?

  She stepped closer and lowered her voice. “This sounds an awful lot like breaking up with someone and suddenly changing religions. Then you can tell yourself the breakup was a good thing because it led you to your new beliefs.”

  My blood turned cold.

  “Just think about it, okay?” Aimee held my gaze. “Make sure you’re not jumping into something to avoid something else.”

  Wordlessly, I nodded.

  “I should go,” she murmured. “Take care of yourself, Bren. I know I hurt you, and I can’t change that. But I do want you to be happy.”

  I am. Right?

  “I know,” I said. “And I want the same for you.”

  We locked eyes. I didn’t have to mention Billy’s name again. I could see the irritation in the tightness of her lips and the slight narrowness of her eyes.

  I cleared my throat and glanced toward the register. “I should, uh, get back to work.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you around.”

  I just nodded.

  She started to go, and panic shot through me. In my mind, I saw Billy waving his phone in my face with the audio of Aimee.

  “Uh, Aimee?”

  She turned around.

  I hesitated. “This, um, stays between us, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “Thanks.”

  A hint of a smile flickered across her face, and when she went to leave this time, she didn’t stop.

  After she’d gone, I released a long breath and returned to my seat behind the cash register.

  And my brain went right back to the conversation we’d just had.

  Was she onto something? Or was she dead wrong? The fact that I couldn’t grab one option or the other and say “Yeah, this is the answer” made me uncomfortable.

  Everything I’d learned from Zafir had made sense. And getting involved with him—that had made sense too. But I’d been at Red Hot Bluewater less than twenty-four hours after I’d caught Aimee cheating, and that night, before she’d even moved her stuff out of the apartment, I’d been googling all things asexual.

  “Yep, this is me,” I’d decided within days—hours really—of “me” still being half of Aimee-and-Brennan. And every time I’d questioned it, one look at Zafir had put me back on the asexual rails. He was a nice guy. He was easy to talk to. He was relaxed, chill—everything I needed to regain my sanity after breaking up with Aimee.

  But was that all? Did I just dive in way too far because, hey, if it felt good, why not take it all the way? “All the way” in asexual terms. Which didn’t leave me feeling like anything was missing.

  So did that mean there wasn’t anything missing? Or was this like when I was back on my feet after fucking up my ankle? I hadn’t dared skate right away. After being on crutches, though, and after being in that much pain, just being able to stand and walk had felt like heaven. Later, I’d gotten back on the board and started putting my joints at risk again, but at first, I’d sat out and let gravity fuck someone else up.

  Was that what I’d done with Zafir? After three sexual relationships with women, one of which wasn’t even cold in the grave, I had an asexual relationship with a man. No chance for sexual failure there. Asexuality meant I didn’t have to feel like a loser who couldn’t please a girl. An asexual boyfriend was the furthest thing I could get from a girlfriend without being alone.

  My heart seemed to speed up and slow down at the same time. My stomach tried to turn itself inside out. Air moved through my throat, but it took work.

  Oh God. Maybe Aimee was right.

  Maybe I wasn’t in love with Zafir . . . I was in love with breaking out of the cycle that kept hurting me.

  And if that wa
s true, then the longer this thing went on, the more it was going to hurt both of us when it was over.

  Chapter 22

  Zafir

  I couldn’t wait to clock off from Red Hot tonight. I didn’t have to work at Old Country, and though I felt a little guilty about spending the evening with Brennan instead of Tariq, I hoped he understood. And I had promised Tariq we’d spend my next day off together, just the two of us, and he’d seemed pretty excited about that. Plus he had another skating lesson tomorrow after school.

  Tonight, though, it was me and Brennan, and by lunch, I was already counting down the minutes until my shift was over. And the end was getting close—fifteen minutes until quitting time.

  By this point, I was itching to see him. My phone had been quiet for the last hour or so. The skate shop must’ve been busy again. Before that, we’d texted sporadically throughout the day. He also hadn’t stopped by before going to work. Running late, apparently. I was a little disappointed, but such was life.

  Five minutes before the end of my shift, the bell jingled, and my heart skipped. Sure enough, it was Brennan. Skateboard under his arm, chin a tiny bit scruffy, and . . .

  Distant.

  Our eyes met briefly, and he flashed a hint of a smile, but then he lowered his gaze and focused intently on a display of lingerie. Which, okay, that was a new product, and they were pretty weird looking to the untrained eye, but he seemed evasive. As if he weren’t looking at the lingerie so much as looking away from me.

  My spine prickled.

  Long day. He might’ve had a long day. That would explain why he hadn’t come by earlier and why his texts had been sparse. Right?

  Now that Brennan was here, quietly hanging out near the door while I wrapped up a few things, time ground to a near halt. The last five minutes of my shift took longer than the previous eight-plus hours.

  Finally—six o’clock.

  I grabbed my phone and keys, clocked out, said good-bye to Violet, and stepped around the cash register.

  “Hey,” I said. “You ready?”

  His head snapped up like he’d forgotten I was there, but he pasted on a smile—you’re not fooling anyone, Brennan—and nodded. “Yeah. Let’s roll.”