One Last Play

by Aja Cole

  “Would you like to rail at me, or is the wall a satisfactory stand in?” Luc’s amused voice came from the doorway and I refused to turn around.

  “Go away, Luc. I’m busy.”

  “Busy doing what exactly?”

  “Dealing with your disaster of a guest bedroom. That’s what. Now get out of my face.” I was annoyed that my mom so easily discerned that something was up, and I was mad at Amina for having a big mouth, and I was mad at Luc for saying that to me!

  So much for a day-long good mood fueled by orgasms.

  There was large chest by the wall that was supposed to look rustic, but it just looked out of place. Modernity is what this room needed, not old home charm. I went over to it, grabbing a handle, intent on dragging it out of the room. It looked like it was heavy.

  With a yank that I was prepared to get resistance from, I didn’t even have time to yell in shock when my own momentum threw me backwards.

  I laid on the large rug, unwilling to look over at Luc as I stared up at the ceiling fan, humiliation coloring my face.

  So, not heavy then.

  Wonderful.

  He lowered himself to the floor beside me, reaching out to grab me but I batted his hands away. “No, don’t touch me.”

  With a smirk on his too-perfect face, he leaned against the bed instead, keeping his hands to himself. I sat up with a huff and glared at him.

  “I can’t imagine what has you throwing una rabieta como un niño.”

  “I recognize child, so I’m going to go with you’re probably insulting my attitude.” He inclined his head like I was correct, and I tried to push away the images of smothering him with a pillow from the bed.

  “You’re mad about what I said with your mother?”

  “No, what could possibly give you that idea?” I gave him a blank look.

  “You do know that we could resolve things much easier if you were honest with me instead of resorting to childish quips.”

  “You weren’t calling me childish last night.” I tilted my head, crossing my arms.

  “Don’t be crass,” his nostrils flared.

  “You’ve really got to stop this telling me what to do thing,” I jumped up, annoyance vibrating my every nerve. He was so high-handed, and after dealing with my mother for the morning, I couldn’t deal with him acting like anything other than a lover.

  I didn’t need a keeper. I didn’t need someone checking my every move and act and telling me what was appropriate and what wasn’t. I’d moved away and branched out to get away from that. I loved my mom, but she grated on me sometimes. Yes, she always meant well, but that didn’t mean I always wanted her opinion.

  Or anyone else’s for that matter.

  I left the room and bounded down the stairs, taking the other stairs up to the master bedroom. I heard Luc behind me and I ignored him. Until he grabbed my arm and I couldn’t ignore him anymore.

  “Stop this,” he demanded.

  “You stop this,” I taunted, mirroring his stance.

  “Thea,” he rumbled, back rigid as he pulled me closer, gripping my arm firmly but not enough to hurt. Just enough to restrain me.

  “Luc,” I mimicked, jerking my arm even though I knew it wouldn’t do me any good.

  “You weren’t being respectful.”

  “It’s none of your business how I speak to my mother. If I was disrespecting her, she would’ve let me know. You didn’t need to step in like I was a child. You’re supposed to be on my side, not hers.”

  “There were no sides. I know that you are wound up and you’re not seeing the true picture here. I’m not going to argue you with you about it.” His face was taut and the irritation was making his cheekbones stand out. I would’ve marveled had I not been so mad that he was just dismissing my feelings.

  I pushed him. I’d thrown non-harmful things at him, I’d yelled at him, but I’d never out my hands on him before. Later, I would be ashamed. But right then, I just wanted him to stop being so smug. I pushed him and I started yelling.

  I yelled about the past. I yelled about the present. I yelled about how he hadn’t had sex with me yet. I just yelled about anything that came to mind, and he didn’t disappoint with his reaction. I wanted a reaction, and I got it.

  He was cursing me in Spanish, his expressive hands flying with his words as he matched my tone and anger. He switched between English and his native tongue, telling me how ungrateful I was and how I never could let things lie and how I sabotaged what went well.

  “Hey, hey, what the hell is going on with you two?” Amina rushed up the stairs in a panic with a bag in hand and I realized she’d left and come back at some point. “Do I need to call someone?”

  I was heaving and my forehead was dotted with sweat, and Luc was so red that he looked like he’d been playing on the field for hours.

  The room was a mess. I’d thrown pillows and blankets, and he’d tossed them right back at me. We were breathing hard as we stopped mid-sentence and looked at Amina.

  “Estamos bien, Thea es un dolor en mi culo.” Luc snapped, and I felt the nerve next to my eye start to twitch. I’d heard that phase enough to recognize it immediately.

  “Oh, I’m a pain in your ass?” I growled.

  “Why don’t the two of you just get it on already?” Amina speculated.

  I scoffed. “The last thing I want to do is have sex with such a raging sexist.”

  “Oh, I’m sexist now? Do tell what fake situation you’ve come up with to prove yourself right this time.”

  “HEY!” Amina yelled, interrupting us before we could start up our argument Olympics again. I was livid, but it sort of felt good to get everything I’d been holding inside for the past 5 years out. I wasn’t nearly done though.

  “I don’t know what’s going on with you two, but you need to separate and do something else for the next few hours because I’ll be damned if all my hard work will be for nothing because you two can’t work out your issues. The British GQ cover party is tonight, and you need to be the best you’ve ever been together. Okay?”

  I sucked my teeth, going to the bathroom and slamming the door.

  Asshole.

  I’d hold up my end of the deal, but then I was done.

  26

  Theodora

  “This is my lucky night.”

  The voice was familiar, and I turned away from looking at the blown-up pages that featured Luc. I was in an odd mix of arousal and pure aggravation seeing his too attractive face and annoyingly hot body on display in the images, while he walked around looking all confident and smooth in light slacks and a pale blue button up.

  We hadn’t spoken a single word to each other on the way over.

  So much for not putting on an act. I smiled and kissed him for pictures, and posed with him in front of the large GQ backdrop. I’d met people I’d only seen in photos before, read about on the Snapchat stories, and I didn’t care. There was a famous reality TV socialite floating around, instagramming her every move.

  For the first time since I’d agreed to this, I was feeling the weight of it. All because of one stupid argument because Luc wouldn’t admit that it just hadn’t been his place to scold me. All I wanted was for him to realize that he didn’t need to corral me like some recalcitrant child, and to apologize.

  I was a grown ass woman. Was I crazy for wanting him to say that he was wrong?

  I faced the speaker, and a smile crossed my face when I realized who it was.

  “Cassandra, of course you’re here with the beautiful people.” Should I have been smiling at her? Did she think I was flirting back? Was I flirting back? She knew I was with Luc, so it didn’t matter if I was friendly right?

  “That I am, doll. You fit right in, too, make no mistake.” She lightly touched my bare arm with a wink, and I laughed nervously. “Still holding onto Mr. Perfect?”

  “He’s far from perfect,” I murmured, turning and watching him as he spoke to a popular musician.

  “Oh? Trouble in paradis
e? I’m a good listener.” She sounded sincere, and like she wanted to know what was happening.

  “I don’t want to bother you with my issues. It’s not anything very serious, just a difference in opinion.”

  “Well, it matters to you, yeah?” she countered.

  “Yeah, it kind of does. Even though I wonder if I’m overreacting.”

  “Well then it’s serious. Come on, you can tell me all about it and I’ll help if I can.” She inclined her head towards the stairs, and I only hesitated for a second before I nodded my head.

  “Okay. Thanks. I don’t have a ton of friends I’d feel comfortable talking about my relationship with,” I shared as we walked. When we got down the stairs, she led me to a small sitting room off the hallway. I plopped down on a chair and toed off my pumps, and she sat in the armchair closest to me. She took off her studded loafers and tucked her foot up into the chair, leaning on her arm and peering at me with green eyes.

  “Alright, spill the beans.”

  I didn’t tell her anything about the reason we were doing it.

  I just talked to her like I was just having one issue in my relationship.

  Which, we were trying things out, so I guess I was? We were supposed to take a couple’s yoga class over the weekend, but I didn’t know how I felt about syncing our energies when he was being such a little shit.

  I told her that I didn’t feel like he’d listened to me when I’d told him what my problem was with what he’d said.

  I told her that I’d forgotten his attitude about certain things, and it made me wonder if I was prepared to commit.

  Was I only saying yes because I was scared I wouldn’t find anyone else that I had such chemistry with? When it was good, it was amazing. Was that enough?

  “Do y’all argue like that a lot?”

  “Not really. But when we do argue…it’s like that. We always get loud and nothing ever gets resolved because neither of us are exactly pros at being unemotional.”

  I thought about the time that’d gotten me into this mess…

  I looked out the windows at the darkness, and looked back at the melting candles in the middle of the table. They were the candles I’d made at the little class I’d gone to, in the colors of Luc’s team. Now they were ruined because they’d been melting longer than I’d anticipated.

  It was probably too late for me to still tell myself that maybe it would just be another few minutes. I blew out the candles, and picked up the plates on the table.

  Happy birthday to me.

  I called myself wanting to spend my birthday with my boyfriend, instead of going out with the little group of friends I had, and he wasn’t there. I had a key to his place, but it seemed like he was hardly around. He liked for me stay there instead of at the flat, and I hated it. I felt like he was keeping me on ice or something, when I’d just be laying in his bed at night alone, waiting to hear him come in.

  He always said he was practicing late, putting in the work and rehabbing so he could continue to move up in rotation. I wondered sometimes, though. Was I trusting him too much?

  Luc wasn’t a big fan of leftovers. I’d made brown butter scallops with parmesan risotto and garlic sautéed greens.

  I trashed what I hadn’t eaten.

  I stood at the counter in my heels and pink dress, feeling numbness settle in while I stared at the pink champagne cake I’d made for dessert. To blow candles out on. To celebrate my birthday with the man I wanted to finally tell I loved him. To tell him I wanted him to be my first despite how neglected I’d felt lately.

  And he’d forgotten.

  I wanted to go home. I wanted to be around people I knew cared about me. I slipped off one heel, then the other, only realizing I was crying when I saw a drop land on the sparkle frosting.

  “Pathetic,” I whispered. “Crying over a boy. This isn’t you. This has never been you.” I swiped furiously at my face, jerking open the drawer for a knife. I’d slaved over that damn cake, and I was going to enjoy it, alone or not.

  I was on my second piece, sitting in front of the large window and looking out over the city when I heard the door open. I didn’t know how long it’d been, and I was past caring.

  “Have some cake, Luc. It’s quite good,” I didn’t turn around, just pushed the fork tines into the deliciously moist and dense middle of my slice. It was one of my best, if I might say so myself. I heard him drop his bag by the door, and I saw him in the reflection of the glass coming up behind me. When he leaned down as if to kiss me, I moved my head. “Nah, I’m good.”

  “Dios mio, Tea. What now?”

  I didn’t answer, just continued to eat my cake and stare out at the lights. I needed to do more exploring. From the first night I’d met Luc, I’d spent every free moment I could with him. I was missing out on an entire city because I was trailing him like a sick puppy, taking whatever attention he could spare for me.

  “Ah okay, you’re in one of your moods. Fine.”

  “I’m 19 today,” I said casually, like it was just a regular conversation.

  “You’re 18, what are yo—,” I knew by his abrupt silence that it’d finally dawned on him why I could possibly be in “one of my moods.” “Thea, bebe…”

  “Oh, no, don’t tell me you’re at a loss for words. You seem to have plenty to say about my attitude. Please, carry on. I’ll grab you some cake.” I got up calmly from the chair, dodging him when he went to grab me. I went to the cake and cut a few varying slices. “Big slice? Small slice?”

  “Thea, I don’t want any cake. Let’s talk. I didn’t forget your birthday, I have something planned for this weekend. It just slipped my mind tonight that it’s the actual day, baby.”

  “You sure you don’t want cake,” I’d cut about 7 pieces now. It was a huge cake though. I’d painstakingly layered it, and frosted it, because I wanted it to be perfect for a perfect night.

  “I’m sure, I’m so sorry if I hurt you,” he said hesitantly, and I could see from the corner of my eye that he was about a foot away.

  “That’s too bad,” I murmured. “I want you to have cake.”

  I threw a slice at him. “Where are those reflexes of yours you’ve been honing?” Another slice. And another. “Catch the cake, Luc. Come on!”

  His eyes were wide and he was looking at me like I’d lost my mind, and I had. I picked up the last slice in my hands and walked to him. He was so shocked that he didn’t move back. “Mi cie—,” I smashed the cake into his face.

  “Fuck off.” Using his shirt, I wiped my hands clean. I’d started to walk away when he gripped the back of my dress.

  “Apologize,” he growled. Bastard, his grip on my dress was too strong for me to dislodge him.

  “I’m not apologizing about a damned thing, you ungrateful sack of shit.” By the end of the sentence, I was yelling, reaching back to push his hand away. He let me, but only to grip my waist with both hands and spin me around.

  “I’m the ungrateful one? Eres una loca,” he yelled right back, and I looked around for something I could throw. I picked up a soccer ball and lobbed it as hard as I could. I bounded off the wall, and I picked up a throw pillow and lobbed that too.

  “I,” my purse landed against the couch when he dodged, “hate,” my flip flop managed to hit him on the thigh, “you!” I screamed. I felt so much anger, and resentment, and confusion. All of my emotions from the last few weeks were being fully let out, and I couldn’t stop the rush. He was yelling at me in Spanish and I had no idea what he was saying, but considering the things I was saying, I doubted any of it was flattering. I looked around furiously for something else to hit him with, but I didn’t find it before he basically bulldozed me and backed me up against the wall. We were heaving and sweating and I brought up my hand to slap him, but he caught my wrist and stared me down. His color was high and his lips were lush and full, parted as his breath came through.

  I kissed him. I hated his guts in that moment and I kissed him viciously. He gave as good as he got
, biting at my lips as I clawed at his skin under his shirt, leaving scratches. “I hate you, I hate you so much,” I whispered between gasps, feeling him unzip my dress.

  He turned my body fast and I slapped my hands against the wall to avoid face planting into it. He tore the dress down my body, jerking my legs up and out and tossing it away. “Stop talking,” he growled, and I turned back, watching him strip off his clothes as fast as he could manage.

  “Don’t tell me what to do,” I huffed, slapping my hands against his chest. Then I opened them wide, feeling all the muscle under his golden skin and biting my lip. Sexy. Maddening. How could I be so angry at him and want him so much?

  He dropped to his knees and bumped my legs open with his large shoulders. He took a long lick between my legs and I moaned loud, impossibly turned on. Reaching out for leverage as he jerked one leg over his shoulder and latched his mouth onto my clit, I knocked over a vase and it thudded loudly to the floor but we were too far gone.

  By the time we’d finished the first round of fucking, I was nearly delirious from the mix of pleasure and adrenaline, and his place looked like a tornado had hit it. We’d pushed and shoved and pulled and taken. Knocked things over and yelled until we were hoarse.

  “I’m still a little mad at you,” I rasped, cuddling into his chest on the blanket he’d thrown over the floor before he pushed me to my knees earlier.

  “I messed up, mi reina. I’ll do better. I love you so much, it hurts.” He stroked my face with one hand, while the other leisurely caressed my back.