Against The Wall

by Julie Prestsater

  “You okay?” he asks.

  “Completely. Now get in my bed, Mr. Fuller, and sleep with me.”

  He smiles, shaking his head at me, pulls the covers back and enters my bed. “I love it when you talk dirty, Ms. Gelson.”

  I chuckle. “It does sound a little kinky. Like we’re getting freaky in detention or something.”

  “However it sounds, I like being here with you, Shel. “ He reaches for me and reels me in close. I love how he just reached over and slid me across the bed to him. Mmm. I could melt.

  I pour myself into one last kiss before turning around and backing into his body, till we fit together perfectly, spooning like a couple in love. His lips graze my bare shoulder and I’ve never felt so treasured, so loved before in my whole life.

  I slept in this very bed, in this very house with the same man for several years and never did I feel like I do right now. Here, in Matty’s arms, I’m relaxed. I’m comfortable. I’m cozy and warm. And I’m happy. I could sleep like this every night for the rest of my life.

  But then, tomorrow will come. And I will have to …

  Wake up.

  Chapter Seven

  Wake up, I hear a voice in my head. Wake up.

  I roll around, tangled in my sheets, and suddenly, my eyes pop open.

  Last night, I fell asleep in Matty’s arms. I did. I really did. Peeling my covers back from my face, I look over at the empty space next to me and my heart drops like the thud of a bowling ball. He left. He didn’t even stick around to say good morning. It’s not like we did it or anything. We just slept. Oh son of a shiznit. Damn it. That’s even more intimate than screwing for Christ’s sake. I’m a frickin’ idiot. I totally spooked him, didn’t I? I scared him off. A wham bam thank you ma’am would’ve been better.

  I’m such a terrible non-girlfriend. I’ve been out of the loop for so long, I don’t know how it all works. Do I call him now? Do I pretend like nothing happened? Well, nothing did happen. What do I do? I slept, as in actual slumber, with Matty and now he’s gone and I have no effing clue what to do next.

  I wrestle myself out of bed, and make my way to the bathroom. Looking at myself in the mirror, my eyes try to look away from the hopeless romantic before me. As much as I tried to fight it, deep down I think I wanted it to work. I never realized it until now. Waking up alone, after a night without sex, standing in the bathroom, I feel like total shit. The last thing I want to do is wash my face or brush my teeth. I run my fingers through my hair. What did I do? I silently ask, gazing down the drain of my sink. How metaphoric. My love life has totally gone down the drain. Thank God for my students and my awesome ability to teach, or I’d start posting FML all over Twitter and Facebook. Okay, maybe I wouldn’t go that far. But really, I’m pretty crappy when it comes to dealing with guys.

  “Good morning, Shel?” The sound of Matty’s voice startles me.

  I look up and see his reflection in the mirror. Leaning up against the door frame, his arms are crossed over his chest and he’s smiling. Smiling. That’s a good sign, right? Well, he’s here. He didn’t leave. I guess I didn’t scare him off?

  “Hi,” I utter back. I focus on him, right there in the mirror. He’s real. Not just a mirage. He’s standing right behind me. I'm tempted to pinch myself but I don't want to look like an even bigger idiot than I am.

  “Why don’t you do whatever it is you do when you wake up, and come to the kitchen. I got us breakfast.” He takes a step toward me, bends over, and kisses me on the top of my head. I could just faint. My legs are mush, and I think my heart just stopped for a beat.

  Before I can react or turn around to give him a proper hello, he’s gone. Out the door, and I can hear his footsteps throughout my house.

  What is it I do when I wake up? Hmm. I normally do nothing but grab a book, or watch TV with a bowl of cereal. I shut the door so I can pee in peace and try to think of what to do next. Finally, I decide to splash some water on my face, glide some deodorant on, brush my teeth, moisturize with some smelly lotion, and pull my hair up into a twist. Should I do make-up? Nah. He’ll probably laugh at me for doing as much as I did already. He knows I’m simple.

  Immediately, I start cracking up when I see what’s on my kitchen table. Captain Crunch cereal. How does he know these things about me? First the beer, and now this. My favorite cereal.

  “When was the last time you went grocery shopping?” He chuckles. “I had to go to the store. It was either that or we were going to have beer and yogurt for breakfast.”

  “Hey, don’t judge. It’s the breakfast of champions.” I sit down across from him at my table. “Besides, I’ve been sleeping over at Mel’s a lot lately.”

  He pours me a bowl of cereal and hands me the milk. “Will this work?”

  “Hell yes, this is my favorite cereal. I could eat the whole box for breakfast, lunch, and dinner today.” I stop talking so I can stuff my mouth with a giant spoonful of sweet crunchy bites.

  “Ha ha. Somehow I believe that.” After pouring his own bowl, he digs in too.

  For a moment, there is this ease of comfort while the two of us chow down on cereal. It’s anything but silent, with the loud munching of crunch berries, but it’s peaceful. Every now and then, our eyes meet and we smile. Things are not at all awkward, like I imagined they would be. It feels just like any other day, except Matty was in my bed last night. But knowing that doesn’t make me feel weird. If anything, it makes me grin at him again. And he smirks back at me. Just a little something to acknowledge we’re thinking of each other.

  Matty finishes his breakfast and pushes his bowl away from him. He dabs at the side of his mouth with a napkin and clears his throat to speak. “So what’s on your agenda for today?”

  I have to think about it for a second. “Not much,” I say, through a mouthful of food. I finish chewing before I continue. “I was just going to kick back, relax, and watch movies until Mel calls if she feels like getting out of the house.”

  “Mind if I join you? Until Mel calls, that is.”

  “I’d love for you to join me. But come to think of it, she probably won’t call.”

  He looks at me confused. “Why not?”

  I smirk. “She’s probably hoping you’re still here.”

  “Oh, so you just assumed I was gonna bring you home and you could have your way with me?” he says, jokingly.

  “I didn’t assume anything. But I’m sure Mel was hoping something would happen. So stay, relax with me,” I tell him.

  “Sounds good. I’m in.” He stands. “Do you mind if I shower?”

  “Go for it. Towels are in the cabinet in either bathroom. You can use mine or the one in the hall.”

  Before heading to the shower, Matty takes my bowl and his, and washes them. Who is this guy? Why didn’t I sleep with him sooner? I could’ve had a live-in dishwasher by now. So I don’t look like a lazy ass, I get up and put away the cereal and milk.

  Matty is standing at my counter, wiping it down when I come from behind, placing my arms around him in a gentle embrace. I can feel the hardness of his abs beneath my fingers and I suddenly want to watch him take a shower so I can have a front row seat with a view of suds traveling down his chiseled frame. “Thank you, Matty.”

  He wiggles himself around so he’s facing me, and holds me close to him. “Thanks for letting me stay. I had a really good time last night.”

  I squeeze him again before looking up. He stares down at me and I catch him glancing at my mouth. He has to know I want him to. Gazing at his full lips, I try sending him a signal that it’s okay for him to lean down and go in for a kiss. And he does. Just a soft, gentle one. Our lips lock together for three or four lingering pecks lasting a few seconds each. Perfect. I love that he doesn’t feel the need to shove his tongue down my throat every time he kisses me.

  “About that shower,” he says, “maybe I should make it a cold one.”

  I lean into him, grazing my waist against the swell in his jeans. If he was any taller
, that ridge would be right in the valley between my breasts. “That’s not such a bad idea,” I snicker.

  He plants a kiss on my head, and calls me a brat. On his way to the restroom, I notice he stops in the living room and grabs a bag. “What do you have there?” I ask him.

  “When I went to the store, I stopped by my place to pick up a few things.”

  “Oh really? Confident, huh?”

  “Well, yeah. I was gonna take a shower at home but I wanted to hurry and get back before you realized I was gone. I didn’t want you to think I’d skip out on you.”

  Who is this guy? Am I dreaming? I didn’t know guys could be this thoughtful. What else have I been missing for the last umpteen years of my life?

  When we’re both finally showered, separately of course, (or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it) we sit down to figure out what we’re going to watch.

  “Your movie collection is quite depressing, Shel. Some of these don’t even count. How many boxed sets of TV shows do you have?”

  I laugh. I love my TV shows. I have every season of Grey’s. I have most of Entourage. All of Gilmore Girls and Dawson’s Creek (still can’t believe Joey Potter is married to Tom Cruise—beeyotch got Pacey and Maverick). I also have the last season of Beverly Hills 90210, only because I love to watch the final episode when Donna and David finally frickin’ get married. Her dress was amazing. She looked like Cinderella going to the ball.

  “C’mon. I have more than just TV. Don’t exaggerate. You know, we could totally have a Step Up marathon. But the last one kind of bites because Channing Tatum isn’t in it.” Even though I say this with the utmost seriousness, Matty laughs at me. Okay, so I was being funny but Channing so should have been in part three. In fact, the little cameo in part two really wasn’t enough either, but the whole dancing on trampolines and flips was more than hot. He was on fire.

  “That’s it. I gotta leave. You’re too much.” He sets my DVDs down and starts to walk away.

  He comes back chuckling, and picks up some other movies. We both giggle, flipping through my movie collection.

  “How about Dear John?” I ask.

  Matty takes the movie out of my hand and puts it back down in the “no” pile, which at the moment is increasing in size exponentially. He holds up She’s The Man, and asks, “Do you have every movie this guy has been in?”

  “Probably.” I grin.

  “Stalker,” he says, shaking his head.

  “Don’t hate. If I could get season tickets to all Channing Tatum movies, I’d pay top dollar. Oh, and for Bradley Cooper too. And Ryan Reynolds. And Ashton Kutcher. Oh, one more. Tim Riggins from Friday Night Lights, I can’t think of his real name. Imagine a movie with those five guys in it. Oh my.” I look up at the ceiling, picturing such a hot cast of men. It would definitely need to be an action movie, with lots of sweat. Beach scenes, love scenes. Lots of reasons to be shirtless. Some comedy too. On second thought, make it a romantic comedy with a bit of ass kicking just for the heck of it.

  He snaps me out of my fantasy with a play tap to my thigh. “Shel, Riggins is a high school football player. Just a kid.” Matty raises a brow at me in disgust.

  “No, he’s not,” I say, defensive. “He’s like twenty-something. I looked it up. Plus, high school boys don’t look like him. At least, none of the ones I went to school with.” When I watch the current 90210 and see guys like Liam and Teddy, I always wonder where they get these guys from. The boys I went to high school with did NOT look like Matt Lanter. My high school friends looked more like Malcolm in the Middle, or Doogie Howser.

  “Alright, alright. But if you’re gonna drool over Riggs, I’ll just let my eyes feast on Minka Kelly.”

  “Deal.”

  It occurs to me Matty must watch FNL too, if he knows about the cast. Oh my goodness, the pro side of my pro and cons list for dating him continues to grow. It’s just the little issue of us working together that still bothers me. And the fact that he's one of my best friends and I don't want to risk losing him. Maybe those cons outweigh the long list of pros. A frown spreads over my face.

  We finally settle on rotating action-suspense films with chick flicks. Up first: The Notebook. Just the thought makes me giggle. I won the first round. After slipping in the DVD, I turn around and notice Matty sitting on my sofa, with his feet propped up on my ottoman/coffee table. He looks adorable sitting there in some soccer shorts and a loose tee. Now, where do I sit? I take a few steps toward the other side of the sofa and remove one of my decorative pillows to take a seat. Matty raises his arm, inviting me to sit next to him. Okay, that’s nice. I plop myself next to him, tuck my feet underneath my thighs, and get cozy. He lays his arm on my side, and his hand curves against my ass. How will I ever be able to concentrate on the movie with his hand on my ass and my cheek pressed against his shoulder? The air better kick in soon because the rubbing of our warm bodies together is going to start a wild fire.

  So maybe The Notebook isn’t the best idea for our first movie together, and not for the reasons previously mentioned. I’m a blubbering idiot more than once while watching the flick. This movie seriously kills me. Beautiful but heart wrenching. But then, I remember Matty knows me. It’s not like he’s not aware I’m a blubbering idiot. No use in trying to act like someone I’m not.

  Finally, the ultimate sex scene comes on the screen. Allie comes back to see Noah after seeing something about him in the newspaper. It's not long before they start kissing and ravaging each other up the staircase before he throws her against the wall, her legs tie around him, and they kiss fiercely like there’s not a care in the world.

  “Have you ever done that?” I ask him, surprising myself.

  He lets out a slight chuckle. “What’s that?” He knows what I’m talking about.

  “Have you ever just screwed the hell out of someone like in the movie, throwing her against the wall, with your pants around your ankles like you’re saving the world with this one last act of passion?”

  He runs his fingers through his hair, and scratches his head. “Wow. This movie will never be the same for me again.”

  “I’m serious.” I sit up and away from him to get a good look at his expression.

  “Well, I wouldn’t call what they’re doing ‘screwing’.”

  “What would you call it then?”

  His hand disappears in his hair again. “Maybe I’m gonna sound like a chick, but I think they’re making love.”

  I snicker. “Really? It’s not what I picture when I think of making love?”

  He chuckles again. “What? You think making love has to take place in a bed, all sweet and innocent.”

  “Well, yeah. Kind of, I guess.” That’s exactly how I imagine it. That's all I've been doing for the last ten years, before Chase dropped my ass and the dust started to settle down there.

  “Hmm. I guess I think if you love the one you’re with, anytime you have sex, it’s making love.” Good point.

  “Even if you get slammed against the wall?” I ask, grinning.

  “Even if you get slammed against a wall, yes. Making love can be very passionate. I think the more in love you are, the more passionate it is, and the better it feels. It’s just all better. I’m gonna sound like a chick again, but I like sex that’s meaningful.” He licks his lips. “Wait. Don’t get me wrong. Cheap sex serves a purpose, but I’d rather have someone I can make passionate love to all the time than a different person every now and then just so I can blow off steam.” He unleashes these words while mingling his fingers with mine.

  I take a moment to consider this. He does sound like a girl. But what he says makes sense, and it sounds appealing. He wiggles my fingers in his, getting my attention, “And I guess a quickie with the one you love does the job too.”

  “You never answered my question?”

  He seems to consider what I’m asking. “Nope.”

  “Do you think people really do that? Outside of movies and books? I mean, I’ve heard a lot of s
tories about real-life sex before, and never once have any of my friends shared anything even resembling Rachel McAdams and Ryan Gosling.”

  “That’s because all the stories you’ve heard probably have something to do with keg parties or Margarita Mondays at Alcapulco’s.”

  I actually laugh out loud thinking there’s probably some truth to that. “You’re funny,” I tell him.

  “As are you.” He scoops me up and brings me to him for the beginning of a make-out session that rivals our on-screen counterparts. Although, his shorts aren’t gathered at his ankles and I don’t feel picture frames digging into my back. But this … this is just as good. Matty slows our pace and presses his moistened lips to my swollen mouth, and I think, I want a man who loves me enough to nail me against the wall.

  Eventually, Matty and I are sprawled out on my sofa, with my body on top of his, and my knees on either side of his waist. My hair covers our faces like a curtain as I work kisses from his lips to his neck. His scent is clean and fresh, with the subtle hint of a citrusy cologne. He doesn’t bathe in it. I like that. I want access to his shoulders, his chest, but this damn shirt is in my way. Instead, I nip at his neck some more as I make my way back to his jaw line, strong and sharp. My mouth comes down on his and his tongue slides against mine in slow waves of pleasure. He pauses for a beat, sucking on my bottom lip. With a hand wrapped in my hair, he pulls gently, pushing my face upward to grant him access to my neck. My weakness. Kiss my neck and it’s all I can do to keep myself from letting go right now.

  Matty continues to concentrate his efforts on my throat as my breathing races to almost panting. He has me where he wants me and I wouldn’t stop him even if I could. This is too damned hot. With one hand still tangled in my hair, his other is full of my ass, and with each tightened grasp, I can feel him pulse through me. I let out a moan. “Oh God, Matty,” I whisper, as he thrusts his hips upward showing me just how much he’s enjoying this too.