Moved

by K. M. Liss

  For the first time I wonder what he's doing here. How did he know? And what about Summer? I see Nat's cruel eyes in my mind. I bet he told him. In fact, I'm sure of it.

  “Want me to walk you home?” Jackson asks in a soothing tone of voice, bringing me out of my thoughts.

  I look up at him. “Please,” I snivel, wiping my runny eyes and nose on my bare arm. I imagine I look a state. I've probably got mascara streaks everywhere. Thank God it's dark.

  We start to walk.

  “So what happened with Jane and Emma, etc.” I ask. I might as well get all the bad stuff out of the way in one fell swoop. Then at least I won't have to wonder.

  “Nothing special.”

  “Not your latest and greatest loves after all?”

  “I guess not.”

  “Why was that?”

  “Jane was too young, as in highly immature. Emma was too old and stuck in her ways, which didn't fit in with mine. Rae was the right age but obsessed with her appearance. She gave vanity a whole new meaning.”

  “Oh...”

  “Yeah, oh's about right...”

  “Maybe you're too fussy,” I laugh.

  “Probably,” he agrees, squeezing my shoulder.

  We arrive outside my place and he hugs and kisses me goodnight, with a sweet little peck on the lips.

  “I'll call you tomorrow. About dinner, okay?”

  “Yeah, looking forward to it.” I smile broadly at him.

  He lets me go and walks off down the road with a spring in his step.

  I'm feeling much better now. Actually pleased we didn't go the whole way the first night we got together. It means I can take a breather, stand back from the situation and think straight. Lust has a lot to answer for. That, and pints of wine.

  I go inside, dragging myself up the stairs wearily. I kick my shoes into the cloak cupboard and stand in the kitchen having a few glasses of water. It's nearly 2 am. I'm dead tired after the usual dancing rehearsal, my piercing trauma, and all the recent events of the evening on top. I brace my hands against the kitchen counter-top trying to stop my mind racing.

  What the hell am I going to say to Mason?

  I'm worried it will affect our dancing together. But now's really not the time to worry about things. I need to switch off and rest. Tomorrow I'll talk to him. Properly. Like friends should. I stand up, puffing out a sigh, and make for my room. I don't expect I'll be able to sleep a wink, but I should at least try.

  I go into my room, drop my purse, and strip off my clothes. I chuck them somewhere in the dark, and then turn the dressing table vanity light on to find the make-up wipes and clear away the grime.

  I spot it immediately in the mirror. I couldn't fail to. I squeak and draw in a huge breath in reaction.

  A massive eight legged monster is sitting on my duvet.

  It's one of 'those' types of spiders. Damn ugly and damn big. My worst spider nightmare. My heart pounds and sweat breaks out on my brow. I edge around the room, staring at it in transfixed horror. Finally I'm out of my room and shutting the door in relief. I grab the cushions from the sofa and stuff them along the bottom of the door, covering the gap, so it can't escape. My panic is dying down, now that it's imprisoned in my room.

  I know it's illogical, my fear of them. I can't control my reaction. I think I probably need professional help, some kind of spider therapy.

  I go in the bathroom and wrap myself in his ‘eat me’ towel as mine are wet in the washing machine. I'd kinda rushed out earlier. It's not a very big towel, but it'll have to do. I turn off the lights and go into Mason's bedroom to wait for him to return and remove the spider for me. If he feels inclined to do so, after our fight.

  He actually likes the little critters. They're kinda cute, he says.

  Heaven help me... How are they cute?

  Maybe he won't even be home tonight, who knows?

  I'm now concerned about this possibility, considering his mood when I last saw him. And I can't even call him, or anyone, because my phone is in my room and I'm so not going in there. I slide inside his duvet and lay there, waiting... waiting.... I drift off in a semi propped up position.

  I don't know what time it is, but I'm disturbed by a rush of cold air and a heavy thump at my side. Followed by a long groan.

  He's back, and alive. Thank God.

  A little dramatic of me, I know. But I'm really relieved.

  The smell of alcohol and nicotine hits me hard.

  I poke his naked back.

  “What the fuck?” He springs up and his eyes find mine in the semi darkness. “Shit Kaydee, you scared me to death, and what the hell are you doing in my bed?”

  “There's a great big spider in my room,” I explain in a small childlike voice. I know I'm sounding totally pathetic.

  “It's probably gone now. Go back to bed,” he says, yawning and flopping back down again.

  “Where's it gone, though? It was on my bed. It might be in it for all I know, waiting to crawl up my leg.”

  “Well I'm not looking for it now. It's four in the morning for crissakes! You'll have to stay here. I'll get rid of it later.”

  “Okay, well if you don't mind,” I reply gratefully.

  “No, I really, really don't give a fuck. About anything. Now go to sleep. I'm half trashed,” he says.

  “Mason, where've you been?” I appeal.

  “At the party. I needed a drink or ten.”

  I take a deep breath and make my apology. Half trashed or not, I want to tell him.

  “I'm so sorry. I've abused your trust, haven't I?”

  “I don't want to talk about it.”

  “Please... just for a minute.”

  “Okay.” He leans up on his elbow. “I'm upset. Angry with you both. Nothing much else to say really.”

  “Nothing happened. I'm not sure about him. I'm thinking about it, okay?”

  I edge closer and put my arm around him and hug him to me. As I look at his familiar face, deeply shadowed in the dark, his eyes glimmering, and his dark hair everywhere, messy and unkempt, my heart lurches all over the place.

  “I don't want to hurt you. Or lose you as a friend. Because I love you. Please forgive me,” I plead.

  As soon as those words are out of my mouth, something changes between us in a heartbeat. I can feel it.

  He puts his hands around my face.

  “I love you too. That's the whole problem.”

  I'm stunned into silence.

  He loves me? ‘That' kind of love...?

  I'm guessing, yes...

  His face draws closer and I shut my eyes. I'm slipping into a sublime dream. This can't be happening.

  Not to Mason and me.

  I forget Jackson in a second. He means nothing compared to this man. He's my whole fucking life. I conveniently forget the Barbies and his uncommitted life plan. If there's a chance here with him, I'm gonna take it.

  His lips brush mine and the sun comes out. It's shining brighter than any sun ever has.

  “Oh God, Mason,” I murmur. I'm lost in the bright light in my head.

  “So beautiful, and all mine,” he murmurs back.

  I'm not hearing this.

  Me, beautiful? And his?

  I shoot straight off, into the realms of fantasy as his tongue pushes gently inside my mouth. I hardly notice the nicotine and alcohol on his breath as I respond with a pent up, wild enthusiasm. I'm exploding with feelings. Our hands are everywhere as I drag him on top of my towel clad body. I grasp his naked backside and run my hands up and down his back, scraping my nails over his skin in a mad frenzy.

  I desperately want him.

  “I want you Mason... please...” I almost sob as I come up for air, gasping.

  “Mmmm, the way I feel about you,” he groans.

  “I don't understand all this,” I blurt out in wide eyed wonder.

  “What's to understand?” he asks. Then he leans across and switches on the light. We blink, adjusting to the brightness for a few seconds, as we st
are at each other.

  “I wanna see you. Everything.”

  He pulls back the duvet and undoes his little black towel, slowly, like he's unwrapping a special present. I hold my breath as he looks at me. My heart's pounding ten to the dozen. He sighs shakily and licks his lips as his gaze travels up and down.

  “So, so lovely, I really could eat you. Every gorgeous piece... I've dreamed of this moment.”

  His mouth fastens on my nipple and he sucks greedily, like he's starving hungry for me. Then he bites, nibbles, and tugs with his teeth. It's so painfully arousing and I moan, over and over. I want a lot more.

  “Mmmm,” I purr like a cat and arch up to him, offering him everything as he sucks and bites. Back and forth, one breast to the other. I watch his head move across me and I'm in awe of the blissful scene that's unfolding. Deep feelings shoot down my stomach and inside my vagina. I ache for him inside. Like nothing on this earth.

  He leans up on his elbow and strokes my tattoos with his fingers. First my shoulder and then the hip. He's caressing the parts of me I thought he didn't like. It makes my heart fly.

  I'm on fire.

  The fingers move lower, between my legs. This is what I really want. I want him in there. I open them wide as he strokes his way through the wetness. I squirm against his touch.

  “Yes... go on, do it...” I demand of him.

  His fingers plunge inside me, again and again... his thumb sweeps over my clit, and I'm gone.

  “You feel so damned good,” he says croakily... his deep voice catching, sending me all over the place.

  I am so doing things to him, and he's so doing things to me.

  I drag myself back to earth and take hold of his cock. It's almost pulsating in my hands, harder than hard. I slide my hands around him, exploring the one special part of him I've never touched.

  “Oh my God...” is all I can think to say. There really aren't words to describe what's going on in my head.

  I tug at his prick, pulling him over and on top of me. I wrap my legs around him and I feel it... the delicious pressure against me, his head poised and ready to push inside.

  A fast hard thrust and he's inside me. All the way in, right up to his warm balls. I wriggle upwards, getting him in those last few and so important millimetres. He's the perfect size for me. Nudging firmly against my cervix.

  Could anything feel any better than this?

  No. Nothing. Ever.

  I rub his ass and relish the experience with every fibre of my being.

  “Baby, my whole world's spinning,” he mutters, in a slurred voice, and suddenly he collapses heavily on me with a strange groan.

  I shake him but he doesn't respond.

  “Mason?”

  I simply cannot believe it.

  He's only passed out on me.

  His prick softens and I gently ease him off me, roll him over, onto his side of the bed.

  And I cry myself to sleep.

  I don't know how to feel right now, I can't share things with him and I really, really need to.

  Chapter Four

  I wake up with a start. It's early but I'm wide awake. I look over at his side. The bed's empty. I reach across and feel the sheet with my hand. It's cold. I get up and put on one of his baggy t-shirts which covers my bare ass decently. I venture out, into the living room, but he's not there. My bedroom door is closed. The cushions are gone though. I'm not going in there yet. Just in case. I try the bathroom... it's locked.

  “Won't be long,” he calls out.

  Yeah right...

  I make myself tea and toast and a Tassimo espresso for him, using the coffee machine.

  I'm standing sipping and eating in the kitchen doorway when he emerges.

  Our eyes catch as he pads off to get dressed. A minute later he's at my side.

  “So...” he says.

  “Yeah, so?” I reply questioningly, my heart rate picks up.

  “You no longer have a spider.”

  “Oh, thanks.” I'm relieved about that. Very relieved.

  “He was a biggie. I could see all his little eyes.”

  “Ewww. don't, my hair's standing on end.”

  “I put it in the bushes across the road, okay?”

  “I guess that's far enough.”

  I look at him, waiting for the other, more important subject matter to arise. He munches his toast and drinks his coffee.

  “About last night...” he starts.

  Here we go.

  “Yes?” My heart starts hammering like crazy.

  “You may as well know... I kinda got it on with Sandy.”

  “No...” I say in a tiny voice.

  What? And then he did that with me, straight afterwards?

  My heart goes cold. Until I realise, that's almost exactly what I did with Jackson, before him. It all hurts so bad.

  “Yeah, I did, kinda...” he furthers.

  “What's 'kinda' mean? Did you fuck her or not?”

  “I kinda did. A few times.”

  “I see. So you're what? Seeing her now, are you?”

  “Not if you don't want me to. But I figured if you and Jackson were game on, it shouldn't be a problem.”

  Is he being serious? I can't believe this. Or is he just being evil and rubbing my face in it?

  “I guess it's not a problem. If Jackson's not a problem with you.”

  “Hell, live and let live eh?” he laughs, in a hollow fashion.

  “Yeah, great. Living, I mean,” I grind out, miserably.

  “I'm getting odd vibes Kaydee. What’s up? I thought you'd be okay about it. Sandy seemed to think you'd be fine.”

  And I had been, before. But not now. My whole world changed last night. And he's not even mentioning it. He's scrubbed it from his mind. His brief brunette fling. I'm not exactly his usual fluff, am I? It must have been disappointing somehow. Disappointing and so shocking, he passed out in horror.

  I start to tear up and brim over, my sensitive self coming out in a rush. I run off to my room. As I get there my phone rings. I grab it and flop on the bed on my stomach.

  It's Jackson.

  “Hi,” I sniff.

  “Are you okay?”

  I clear my throat, and put on a brave and cheerful voice.

  “Yeah, fine, you?

  “Great, I've booked us a table at eight. It's a surprise.”

  “Looking forward to it, speak later, have to go, someone at the door,” I lie.

  I click off fast.

  I'm so choked.

  A strangled sob comes out of my mouth.

  I turn over and get up. He's standing there, leaning against the doorway.

  The tears start to flow properly.

  “Now suppose you tell me what the tears are about, hmmm?”

  “You don't remember?”

  “What don't I remember?

  “Let me remind you. I was in your bed.”

  “Because of the spider. I remember that of course. What happened after that Kaydee?” his voice rises in alarm.

  “What d'you think?”

  “Oh...no...” He says slowly.

  “Oh...yes...” I reply in the same manner.

  “I'm so sorry. I swear I can't remember a damned thing.”

  “Well that's a shame, because we became fuck buddies. Just about.”

  “Just about?”

  “You passed out on me after the first stroke.”

  “Jesus, I didn't? Is that good or bad news? I don't know what to say.”

  I start to cry uncontrollably. Because for one wonderful moment last night I thought he loved me and I loved him. And I do love him. But the 'he loves me' part was a drunken rambling.

  “Leave me alone, please...” I sob.

  “But why did you go along with it? Couldn't you tell I was drunk? I threw a half a bottle of scotch down my throat. I must have reeked of it. How did I even get it up? I'm amazed?”

  “You seemed sober enough to me and everything was fully functional. And you said things.
I said things. It was...”

  He is watching my teary face intently, unblinking.

  I am so destroyed inside. But I've gotta do this.

  “It was what?” he coaxes, in a soft voice.

  “It was what I wanted at the time,” I begin. “I must have been drunk myself. Let's forget it, shall we? Not that you'll have trouble with that.”

  His face shows instant relief.

  I try to smile.

  He pulls me towards him and gives me a hug.

  I absorb his lovely fresh smell and die inside a little more.

  “I'm really sorry,” he says, dropping a kiss on my head.

  “Me too.”

  Maybe we're both sorry, but for very different reasons.

  He changes the subject. Back to real life and practicalities.

  “We need to get some shopping in. Get dressed and we'll hit the big Tesco for a change then I'll make us a salad for lunch. Get some vitamins back inside us after the drinking. Besides, the car needs a run, I haven't used it for over a week.”

  But I need to know one more thing.

  “Who told you? About me and Jackson? Was it Nat?”

  “No.”

  I'm surprised.

  “So who was it?”

  “Well Sandy text me where you were.”

  My stomach squeezes tightly with hurt.

  “She did?”

  “Yeah, I took Summer home, due to lack of interest... and I came home. You weren't here. so I text you. But you didn't answer. Obviously busy, weren't you...” he says pointedly. “Anyway, I text Sandy and Nat... She told me you were at the party. She didn't say anything about Jackson being there though. I thought he was working. It was a big shock when I found you two in a lip-lock outside the house.”

  I've let Sandy off temporarily. It would have been nice if she'd told me Mason was pitching up. Perhaps she thought I was upstairs with Jackson or I'd left already. I don't know, but it was rather remiss of her. I'll get to the bottom of that later. I feel she took advantage there. To get him in her little paws.

  “Right....” I say, flicking my phone and noticing several texts, two from her. I'm not in the mood to tackle Sandy yet. I need to calm down a bit more. Think about it and let it all sink in. I'll read them later.