More of the juice rained down my throat, and I swallowed hard, my nostrils flaring. I ripped off a bite and tossed the rest onto the bathroom floor before reaching down with my spare hand and cupping my balls. I hissed again, grunting and unable to slow my course as visions of Angel engulfed me—the smell of her all over me, her eyes begging me to let her inside, her hands sliding over my skin, her mouth tasting the head of my dick and sucking the whole thing to the back of her throat.
Fuck.
Sudsy water splashed over the edges of the tub as I massaged my balls with one hand and pumped my engorged cock with the other, wishing it was being squeezed by her sweet-as-sin pussy instead. Black and white specs broke out behind my lids, and my eyes squeezed shut as I exploded.
My pace slowed as I brought myself down, taming the wild banging in my chest. When the high disintegrated around me, falling like the scattering of a blown out firework, I raked my hands through my hair and cupped the back of my neck, staring down at my lonely dick poking out from the water.
The fact that she wasn’t really here brought with it shame and disappointment. I was mad that I’d let her persuade me so easily. But I knew, if given the choice, that I’d happily relive the moment again and again just to share it with her.
EVA
IT WAS HARD to go about my day in normal fashion. If Blake was playing along, that meant he was playing with himself as we speak, and picturing it was doing unruly things to me. Knowing how delicious he looked wet and hard in that tub turned my insides molten. Add the fact that he was stroking himself with pleasure, thinking about me, and I was done for. Despite that, my insides were in turmoil.
What if he didn’t play along? What if he did, but still decided he couldn’t be with me anymore? What if what I’d done was irreversible, and he was finished with me?
I chewed at my thumbnail, lost in a fog as I waited impatiently. Finally, the girl I’d been watching for the last half hour stood, the scrape of her chair echoing through the near-empty space. I gathered my belongings and rushed over to the spot she’d just vacated. Waiting for her had set me back, so when memories began to flood at the close proximity of this special space, I pushed them aside quickly before I could get lost.
I placed an envelope on the table and tee-pee’ed a piece of paper behind it. Gripping the back of the seat, I stared down, hoping this would work. Finally, I kissed my fingers and pressed them to the envelope before hurrying away.
BLAKE
AFTER SHOWERING OFF the remains of my bath, I stood in front of the foggy mirror with a towel wrapped around my waist and palmed the edge of the porcelain. The tips of my hair dripped water down my face and onto the floor as I stood with my head hanging, trying to figure out where to go from here.
Like any addict, the easy thing to do would be to run to her and get my fix, toss her ass in the air, and take her in all of the ways I had just imagined until the heat from my dick thawed the ice in my heart. The problem was she was so much more than a quick fuck. If I ever tasted her skin again, felt her wetness explode around me as she sucked me into her core, I’d be done for. She’d own me once again, and I wasn’t sure if I could trust her not to do this to me anymore.
I swiped my hand across the wet mirror and stared at my pained expression in the streak. I never remembered seeing bags under my eyes like this, or such deep lines across my forehead. I took a deep breath and stared into my own eyes. You’re in control. She couldn’t hurt me unless I allowed it to happen. The prospect of happiness—of her—sent a wave of hope barreling through me before I could stop it.
I stepped into a pair of jeans before making my way back to the living room. I’d tried to avoid that bag long enough, figuring the answer of what to do would come to me. And maybe, in a way, it had. Either way, I needed to see the rest.
I dragged a hand through my damp hair before squeezing the back of my neck as I stared down at it. Using my thumb, I cracked one, two, three knuckles, trying to build courage. When the itch got too tough to bear, I dropped to the couch and stared at the bottom of the bag. Sure enough, another envelope lay right where she’d said.
When I tilted it to extract the letter, something brushed past my fingers, tinkling onto the coffee table. I moved the envelope aside and picked up two puzzle pieces. They were only parts of a larger picture, and there was no way of telling what the image was supposed to be. On the backside were a few words, but without the other pieces, they were meaningless. That comparison told a story in itself and had never been truer. She culminated all of my missing pieces, and without her, everything in my world had been incomplete—made no sense.
Oh, Angel. What are you up to?
I placed the pieces aside and withdrew a picture of her sitting in the library with a huge smile, pointing to a paper that she’d gotten an “A” on, while I kissed her cheek. The picture was haphazard since it was a selfie, but it was adorable. I remembered that day. She had promised to thank me later for my efforts tutoring her. My cheeks warmed thinking of all the tutoring we’d done.
I flipped the photo around and revealed more of her writing.
Good to see you’re playing with me.
I didn’t miss that hidden meaning.
I’m hoping you’re nice and relaxed now.
Relaxed? I was wound like a top.
They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, but she was taking a different route. I glanced at the table of Angel food and chuckled. Well, she was taking both.
I’m trying to figure out how to prove to you that I’m all yours forever. There are a million ways I can say it, but how can I show you? I could give you . . . me. All of me. All of my pieces. You’re holding two of them, so be gentle with me. I want you to own every piece of me, Blake. Forever. Do you remember when we took this picture? Where we were?
My smile betrayed the ache in my heart. How could I forget?
After you eat me . . . I mean, your breakfast, go there. Oh, and one of your white T-shirts is tucked between the paper bag and the plastic bag. I’ve slept in it almost every night since you gave it to me. Put that on so you can smell me all day.
Love you,
Angel
I separated the bags and, sure enough, wrapped in a Ziploc was one of my white T-shirts. As soon as I opened it, the smell of her invaded me. Not just her perfume or her hair product, her skin was embedded in the threads, sweat and sleep and soap and breath and one hundred percent Angel.
I brought my fist, knotted with the shirt, to my face, and sucked in, giving my veins what they’d been missing for months. The fix they had craved. All at once, sensations flooded me, just about knocking me over as I remembered. When I’d given this to her, and the kiss I’d placed to the tip of her nose after I draped it over her delicate shoulders. And the way her ass looked in her satin panties, barely poking out of the bottom when she swayed her hips. The smell of her lust after I’d fucked her wearing only this, pulling the V in the neck aside to suck on her perfect tits as I pumped in and out of her. How she’d looked rumpled up into my sheets, her one leg hooked along the outside of it and only this shirt covering her top half.
My gaze fell to the red stain at the base of the shirt, and I grunted, recalling the game we’d played with the strawberries that one day. I licked my lips, the taste of her musky scent mingled with their sweetness prominent in my salivating mouth.
I hope I survive this.
I slipped the shirt over my head, feeling her coat me from all angles, then I stood and closed the button of my jeans before slipping on my shoes, grabbing my keys, and running out the door.
Fuck the food.
EVA
THANK GOD FOR Google Docs. My handsome photographer had uploaded all of our photos since the day we’d met into a shared drive, which had given me plenty of ammo for this little hunt. I prayed this would work.
Laying on my back, I took a quick moment to absorb my surroundings. I stared up through Bertha’s thick mane, a soft breeze parting the strands, ga
zing at the blue sky overhead and remembered all of the times Blake and I had spent doing the same thing. A sense of comfort surrounded me as I wrapped my arms around myself and recalled memories of our past. When my mind inadvertently went to one of our very last encounters, nausea threatened to dominate the good feelings. One of the worst memories of my life was made in this very spot. I’d contemplated leaving this stop out so that it wasn’t part of what Blake was remembering, but really, how could I? Good or bad, we were what we were. If we were going to be together, we couldn’t ignore all of the bad that we’d been through. We needed to embrace it, hand our heartaches to one another and watch as the other person made it dissolve into their pores. We needed to make all of our troubles our own, share them and survive with them so that neither of us ran. Help each other see through the dark to bring us into the light, solidified as one.
All this time, I’d been running to try to protect him. I’d kept him separate from me, thinking that was what he needed. But every day that I distanced myself from him, I didn’t allow a piece of us to grow as beautifully as it could have. The same way the plants he loved so much needed water to see another day, we needed each other to thrive. To survive.
We grew in this spot. Shared so many happy times, secrets, kisses. He needed to come here and feel it. The good . . . and the bad.
Our energy lived in this grass and in Bertha’s bark. Laying here, our story whisked around me on the warm breeze tickling my skin. I got to my knees and rested my forehead on her trunk, framing my face with my palms.
“Help us, girl. With any luck, he’ll be here soon. Help him see.” I scraped my pointer finger along her rough bark, pausing, allowing myself to hear her comfort.
The air seemed to still, no movement from a leaf or ripple in the water. As fierce as nature could be, this moment was the epitome of tranquil. The calm before the storm, perhaps, but I knew without a doubt that she was telling me it would all be okay. And at that moment, I chose to believe her.
BLAKE
THE SMELL OF books hit me immediately. Old and new pages mixed with thread and leather bindings. It was eerily still, making me self-conscious to move around. Every effort seemed to echo throughout the familiar library, the first study session Angel and I had shared imprinted on its walls.
I stood amongst the tables, my eyes zeroing in on her intended destination for me. In the far back corner, I could already make out something sitting on top of it, even though it was unoccupied. Approaching, the word ‘RESERVED’ was prominently displayed, a manila envelope that said ‘Blake’ sitting below it, and a forget-me-not taped to the right edge.
My heart flipped in my chest, making a jerk out of me. When I’d left my apartment, I’d felt so sure I could do this, but the ugly monster of doubt was back. I was trying to be strong, to keep my self-worth intact. But after a lifetime of trying to prove my worth to the one person I would have given anything to impress, only to be shot down time after time, it was getting harder and harder to convince myself that it was there.
Angel had made me forget all of the letdowns caused by my father, believed in all that was me, no matter what that meant. She’d looked at me like I could move heaven and earth, rearrange the stars in the sky to build her whatever picture she wanted to see. And for all that I was, I fucking tried.
After clearing the solid lump in my throat, I pulled back the chair and winced at the loud scraping sound that reverberated through the space. I needed to fit that broken person back into his box and try to be open-minded if there was going to be any hope of this working.
Pulling back the metal prongs, the envelope revealed a bunch of papers clipped together, another picture being the very first thing in the binding. I tilted the envelope on its side, allowing the clipped pages to partially slide out, forcing two more puzzle pieces to slip free and bounce off the table. I picked one up, flipping it between my nervous fingers as I stared at the image of Eva and me lazing beneath Bertha. All four chambers of my heart pulled into the center, creating a slicing burn as it sped up. I pushed my fist into it and rolled it over the pain.
She’d fallen asleep that day, finally comfortable enough to be around me with her guard down. We’d only known each other a few weeks, and I couldn’t outwardly call her mine yet, although my heart had given her that stamp already. We had been in class together, and the wonky weather had brought on somewhat of an Indian summer. Knowing the cold weather was coming, all I could think about was enjoying the sunshine with her. So at the dismissal of class, I’d laced my fingers with hers and asked her to play hooky with me the rest of the day.
I would never forget how she’d stared down at our hands intimately intertwined, or the look on her face as she’d dragged her bottom lip between her teeth and bit down on the corner, contemplating my request. It had felt like there were tiny birds trapped in my chest as anticipation ballooned between us. In a bold move, I dragged the tip of my thumb up the center of her palm.
Her eyes flicked up to mine as she released the clasp of her lips to allow a small, sexy-as-sin grin. Then she’d rocked up on her toes with a small bounce in her step. “Okay.” And another piece of her snuck inside my erratic heart, slowing it down as it swelled heavier.
I pounded a few taps on my chest as I stared at her golden locks dispersed between the blades of grass that decorated Bertha’s feet. I was used to seeing worry etched on her face, even when she had thought she was portraying herself to be happy. But as she’d lain there, succumbing to the warmth of the sun and the fresh breeze floating on the wisps of Bertha’s long leaves she looked angelic, childlike. It reminded me that, even though she gave off the appearance of an older sophistication, in reality, she was only just coming out of the age of adolescence.
I had laid beside her as carefully as I could, trying not to disturb her, and tried to angle the camera appropriately before closing my eyes and taking the shot. She’d stirred, but instead of pulling away she’d melted herself into the crook of my arm and neck and stayed that way, wrapping around me for the rest of the afternoon.
I flipped over the photograph.
Blake-
In your hand is a list of words that describe what I’ve been through on my journey to you, to where we are today. I used your study tactic as a guide, though my meanings are the real deal. (I left the dirty talk in the tub.)
I hope this helps you understand me a little better. I know you think you know me more than anyone, and maybe in a way you do, but I’m giving you a front row seat to an inside viewing. So get out of the VIP section. You don’t belong there anymore. I’m pretty sure you never did. Go to the spot in this picture for your next clue.
Yours (I hope),
Angel
I placed the photo aside with the puzzle pieces and picked up the page in front of me. The fact that she was making an effort to allow me into the place where she kept her secrets and insecurities counted for more than she knew.
In my hand were college-ruled pages with words listed in the left margin. There was a fold down the right half of the papers, hiding the meanings. When Angel had been having a hard time remembering her vocabulary words, I had done this for her so she could study easily when I wasn’t there to test her. Though, my meanings had been a bit . . . unorthodox.
My gaze fell to the first word on the page, and it swooped into my chest, taking my breath as my forehead immediately dropped to it.
Innocence.
Silent cries rocked my shoulders, and I allowed it, releasing all that had been pent up for so long. I’d always believed myself to be a strong man, but even I had a breaking point. The heaviness of that one word was enough to take me down.
My mind immediately went to a blonde-haired, green-eyed little Angel as I imagined a wolf circling her, licking his chops. My stomach rolled, and I dry heaved. I had never allowed myself thoughts about the reality of what she’d been through. Sure, I wasn’t stupid, and logically I’d known, but that image . . .
I shuddered. Sucking in a ragged
breath, I pressed my thumb and forefinger to my tear ducts, squinting and pulling myself upright, then I opened the flap in the page.
Innocence—(n.)
-the state, quality, or virtue of being innocent, especially, freedom from sin, moral wrong, or guilt through lack of knowledge of evil.
-used euphemistically to refer to a person's virginity.
I moved to the next word.
Manipulation—(v.)
-control or influence (a person or situation) cleverly, unfairly, or unscrupulously.
My heart crumpled.
Abuse—(v.)
-treat (a person or an animal) with cruelty or violence, especially regularly or repeatedly.
(n.)
-the improper use of something.
The list was endless.
Fear
Shame
Isolation
Then I came here and met you.
Freedom (n.)
-the power or right to act, speak, or think as one wants without hindrance or restraint.
-the state of not being imprisoned or enslaved.
Acceptance
Happiness
Love
Nightmare
Weak
Worthless
Rebuild
Strength
Healing
Courage
Forgiveness
Devotion
Unity
Commitment
Worthy
Live
Live (v.)
~ make one’s home in a particular place or with a particular person.
Home . . .
This was killing me.
Each word was listed with its meaning, each another clue of the path her life had taken. To see it written out in black and white was such an eye-opener.
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