Advice from a Sunflower

by Jen Stevens

  He hooks his finger under my chin, gently tugging my face closer. "Do you remember what I told you last time we were alone like this?" he rasps into my ear. His breath sends shivers down my spine.

  I nod into his hand.

  "I told you I was going to destroy you, Little Mouse. Just like you've destroyed me."

  He's whispering, but his words reverberate through me as if he's just screamed them.

  He's made it clear he doesn't want to fall for me again—if he ever truly did. He needs me to know this is all a game to him, nothing more. That he's a just lion playing with his food before devouring it. I know I'll be hurt again in the long run. He won't stop unless that's the case.

  I know it.

  Still, none of that stops me from leaning closer to him and handing myself over, just as I always have with Eli, regardless of how many times he's broken me in the past. Because the truth of the matter is that my heart belongs to him. It thumps to a beat that only he is capable of hearing.

  And it has missed its owner. If he wants to rip it apart over and over, feebly stitching it together each time just to do it again, then I'm going to let him. At least it'll be in his hands once again, right where it belongs.

  "You being here, alone in my space, suggests you've decided what you want."

  "Destroy me," I whisper back.

  I'm desperate for more of his touch. The only contact we have is his finger under my chin and it’s making me crazy for more. I climb onto the hard granite and crawl toward him. I can tell he's surprised by my response, but he doesn't falter for too long. Once my arms wrap around his neck, he's tugging me into him, his lips crashing into mine so hard, our teeth clatter.

  This is nothing like our first time together. It's wild and desperate and a perfect representation of what our lives have become without each other in them.

  He bites my lip in a final warning, stopping to look into my eyes for one last chance to back out. I try my best to clear my face of any emotion the way he always manages to do. I’m not sure if it worked, though whatever he saw was enough of a confirmation for him to drag me across the island and into his arms to carry me up the stairs. He continues to nip at me, marking my ears, neck, and jaw playfully before he slams me onto the king-sized bed that now replaces his childhood twin. It takes everything in me to stifle the moans that are crawling inside my throat so his mother doesn’t catch on to what we’re doing.

  It’s a ridiculous thought—the man is almost in his thirties. But I’ll always be a little afraid of the woman who constantly spoke against his friendships with Marnie and me.

  I learn very quickly that Eli is a selfless lover. He’s maintained this idea that he wants to make me pay for whatever it is he thinks I’ve done to him, yet he’s overly conscious of how I’m feeling every step of the way.

  Once he's got his door locked and secured, he's on top of me, his lips suckling my neck and sending shivers down my spine the same way he had years ago, when we were eighteen and I was hopelessly inexperienced. I try to recall a time another man has given me the sensation but come up short. No one has ever been able to bring out these feelings in me the simple way that Eli does.

  Without warning, he moves on to my breasts, nearly ripping my bra in two as he yanks it out of his way to give special attention to each nipple. I'm nearly pushed over the edge as his hands move from cupping my breasts to sliding into my slick center. Each time he transitions into a new way to torture me with insurmountable pleasure, I find his eyes on my face, surveying me for any indication that I want this to stop. Of course, he'll never find it.

  I finish three times before he allows me to take his pants off, and I decided sometime between my second and third orgasm that I would give him everything I've got. He might want me to come out of this bruised and battered, but I'm going to make sure he's got a few scars as well. I'm going to show him that I've got a bit more experience than I had before and I'm capable of making him feel as much pleasure as he's given me.

  Getting his pants off is harder than I'd like to admit and Eli makes no effort to hide his teasing, self-assured smirk. Once I catch sight of his erection though, I'm completely over my embarrassment. Instead, I've moved onto complete awe. I have no idea how I didn't notice the sheer size of him before, but now that I have something to compare it to, I'm stunned. He waits patiently while I take in the sight of him. All of him. I haven’t had the opportunity to appreciate his body since I've been back and I'm kicking myself for playing too coy to check him out the way he's shamelessly done to me so many times.

  Like wine, Eli only gets better with time. Who else can say that besides the god before me? I'm not sure if I'll ever feel like an equal beside him but I refuse to let him see that side of me. I'm going to continue to pretend that I belong here with him for as long as I can.

  I don't waste any more time grabbing him into both my hands. He's soft and solid and I swear I feel him jerk in reaction to my touch, the way I always do with him. I ride out the wave of confidence that comes with the realization that I can ignite any reaction from him, using it to lower my mouth onto his length. I can only get down about halfway before I'm nearly gagging and have to cover the rest with my hands as I go through the motions of bringing on his first climax.

  Just when I begin to feel him twitch on my tongue, he grabs my hair into a clump and firmly pulls back, warning me to move away if I don't want him to finish in my mouth. I stare up at him through my lashes, stubbornly keeping my lips wrapped around his shaft as the spasming gets stronger and hot liquid shoots down my throat. It's a perfect balance of sweet and salty—a taste I've never encountered in a man before but it suits him perfectly.

  Once he's finished and I've lapped up every drop, he's yanking me up onto him, straddling my legs around his hips as his fingers find my center again and slip in. That's the only confirmation he needs before he guides himself inside me and I'm eagerly lowering myself onto him.

  I've never had sex without a condom before. It's another first I've given him without a second thought, though I refuse to let him in on that secret. It's warm and silky and I feel so much more connected to him without any barriers in the way. Eli's mouth finds mine and he kisses me with the same soft passion and care that he had the first time, before life hardened him. I want to live in this moment forever, wrapped up in a false sense of security and companionship.

  It's like when we're together, we can't help but go back to the two people we were before everything else got in the way. Part of me likes the new aggressive side of him who hates the world and channels all his anger into proving how much he doesn't care about me, and part of me misses the sweet teenager who took my virginity that comes out each time his hands touch my body. Suffice it to say, I'm totally on board with his conflicted emotions. In fact, I have a whole horde of my own to go with them. Even when we're trying to prove we hate each other, we're perfectly in sync.[2]

  Once we’re both completely worn out, I lie on my back beside him and take inventory of his room. It’s crazy how easily I can recall every detail about how it once looked and compare it to what I’m seeing now. I suppose once you’ve spent enough time in one place, you get used to seeing the same things. He hasn’t changed much. The posters that lined his walls have been taken down and he hasn’t bothered replacing them with something else. The mattress is different, but the rest of his furniture is the same. There’s still a dent in the wall from when he got angry with his Xbox and his old CD collection is lined up on the same shelf over his TV.

  I’m so caught up in surveying my surroundings that I don’t notice his eyes on my face right away. He’s staring down at me the same way I had just done with his room—as if he’s comparing the past from the present and trying to make a connection between the two. For a split second, I allow myself to do the same. I imagine that he’s not just here with some vendetta against me. That he’s truly enjoying himself. I’m almost completely convinced when he cuts my delusions off at the knees and opens his mouth.
r />   “I think you should go.” Five simple words that somehow have the power to turn my heart to dust.

  Eli doesn’t wait for my response before he stands off the side of the bed and slips his boxers back on. I’m not even capable of enjoying the view because I’m still recovering from the whiplash I’ve just experienced from his stark change. A small voice in my mind tells me not to make a big deal about this. It reminds me what I’ve signed up for by being in his bed and convinces me to protect my ego from being slashed down any more by standing tall and walking out of that house with my head held high. So, I manage to do exactly that, holding my emotions in until I make it up to Marnie’s bedroom and can close the rest of the world out.

  Chapter 22

  Lyla

  It's been two weeks since me and Eli began our toxic hookups. That's how I think of them now, though I'll never admit that to him and give him the satisfaction. I've been sneaking out of Marnie's bedroom and into his home like a deceitful teenager begging to be punished almost every night. He pretends to be annoyed each time I show up at his door, as if he doesn't enjoy our time together as much as I do.

  He hasn't turned me away yet—a sign I'm taking as him still wanting more.

  I'm like an addict desperate for her next fix. Every day, I wake up and promise myself that I won't go back. I know that he's just going to hurt me in the end, and every time I let his hands on my body, I'm opening myself up for more pain. Yet, by the time Marnie gets the girls to bed, I'm counting down the minutes until she starts snoring and I can sneak down the stairs.

  "Who is this little girl with Gabby and Ally?"

  I'm standing in his living room once again, speaking quietly so I don't disturb his mother. My eyes squint and I lean close to get a better look at the image. It's identical to the one Marnie keeps on her mantle. Originally, I assumed it was a friend from the neighborhood, but that doesn't explain why Eli would have the photo on display in his home.

  He doesn't bother looking at what grabbed my attention before responding. Instead, he keeps his head down and continues to pour our drinks. I guess he decided this time he needs alcohol to get through the night with me.

  "That's Sadie," he explains in a detached tone.

  "Is she one of the kids who live on the block? I haven't met her yet. Marnie seems to have a few pictures of her around the house, too."

  Eli finally looks up from his task, his eyes guarded as he scrutinizes me from across the room. Once again, I've stepped on a landmine and have earned back the closed-off version of him.

  "No, that's Sadie," he says again slowly, walking toward me with our drinks in hand.

  I take mine eagerly, grateful for the momentary distraction while I gather my thoughts. Marnie has never mentioned a Sadie before. She’s clearly related to Eli in some way. That much is clear now that I'm looking at their faces side-by-side. If he has a daughter, why wouldn't he have mentioned her? How could I have missed her walking around town or playing with the girls?

  "You don't know," he finally concludes.

  "That you have a daughter?" I bravely guess. He only offers a stiff nod.

  "No, I'm sorry. Marnie hasn't mentioned her before. But you could have told me, Eli. We're friends, remember? I'd love to meet her."

  I notice his eyes tighten. It's a subtle difference, especially since he always seems to hold a scowl of some sort. But in that small movement, I realize the mistake I've made.

  I can't meet Sadie. Not because he doesn't want me to, but because she isn't around anymore.

  That explains why all the pictures they have of her seem so dated. The girls have to be at least two years younger in the one before us.

  "I'm so sorry," I mumble as my hand reaches out to his shoulder before I can stop it.

  He shrugs, allowing it to fall away. "Not your fault. I assumed Marnie would have said something when it happened. She was torn up about it, too."

  I'm stunned into silence, wondering why Marnie never bothered telling me about Sadie when she was so clearly a huge part of their lives. Eli waits patiently while I gather my thoughts, taking the opportunity to sip his drink and plop onto the couch beside us. He gazes up at me thoughtfully, the same mask of indifference planted on his face that I've grown accustomed to.

  "It was a freak accident. It wasn't supposed to rain at all that day. Emma wasn't supposed to be on that bridge when she was. I shouldn't have been off work that early."

  All I can do is nod. I'm afraid that hearing my voice might cause him to shut down and I want to hear what happens next. Something tells me this isn't a story I can find out just from asking around. The people of The Hollow protect their own and I'm no longer one of them. This is probably what Tina was talking about at Denise’s wedding.

  Eli shakes out whatever thoughts are haunting his head. He downs his drink before his eyes find mine, a darkness unlike I've ever seen before clouding over them.

  "It doesn't matter. None of it matters, Mouse. The world is a fucked up place and no one is safe from whatever shitty things it wants to do to you. Sadie was an angel but now she’s gone, and she isn't coming back."

  "I'm sorry." I know those two words are shallow and empty. He's probably heard them over and over since the accident happened but there isn't anything else for me to say that will mend the open wound he's been sporting around.

  Suddenly, it all makes sense—his anger, his resentment, his divorce. He's right. Life hasn't been as kind to him as it seemingly has been to me.

  "I think you should go back to Marnie's. I'm not in the mood for whatever this is tonight."

  I almost agree. As always, my feet want to take me to the door and get me as far away from this moody man as they can. Almost.

  It's my heart that stops me. Underneath his dismissive words and cold tone, my heart hears the pain inside his voice, and I know that if I leave him alone after he opened himself up to me, we'll never get back to what we once were. If I leave, I can kiss any chance of ever having Eli back in my life as a permanent fixture goodbye.

  I don't want that. So, against all my other instincts and at the risk of being the pest he constantly treats me as, I insist on staying.

  "I'm not leaving."

  He glares at me in disbelief. Finally, the strong, independent woman I've worked tirelessly to become has shown herself in this hellhole of a town.

  "I wasn't asking."

  "Neither am I. We can keep playing this game where you pretend you're in control of everything happening between us, or you can finally acknowledge it for the runaway train that it is. I have no control over it, and neither do you."

  The left side of his mouth twitches up in a smile he's clearly fighting. "Is that so, Little Mouse? You don't think I have control over what's going on here?"

  Okay, I'll admit that broke down my resolve a little. So does the predatory look in his eyes as he stands and stalks closer toward me. But I don’t let that deter me from my mission. It feels good to speak to him as an equal instead of the weak little girl he’s turned me back into since I ran into him.

  “Nope,” I manage to squeak as he grabs me by the waist and carries me through the house toward the stairs to his room.

  He slams me onto the bed and when I tug him closer to me, he growls, “This is the only thing I have control over,” into my ear. He wastes no time tugging my shirt over my head and ripping my jeans off.

  It's turns out the be the most aggressive hook-up we've had to date. Eli seems to have channeled every ounce of anger he has onto me, manically taking me in any way he deemed fit. We started on the bed where he bit and sucked me until I had the most colorful orgasm I've ever experienced. Now, he's dragging me over to the side of the bed and bending me over, shoving my face into the comforter as he takes me from behind. Despite his selfishly aggressive behavior, he reaches around and touches me in the most perfect way, bringing me over the edge just as he stills inside me and enjoys his own orgasm.

  Before I can take a breath, he's swinging me around and sla
mming me against the wall. He lifts me by my ass like I weigh nothing and lines himself right back to my now-raw center. It makes everything even more painfully pleasurable, adding an extra sensation that overwhelms me even more. Just when I think I'm going to explode from the constant friction, he leads us into ecstasy together.

  I feel like a ragdoll. No, scratch that. I feel like his voodoo doll. My entire body is worn down to nothing by the time he lets go of my legs and watches me slide down the wall to stand on my own. I practically fall onto the bed, too exhausted to even lift my feet. If he plans to kick me out after that, he can go to Hell.

  Instead, he surprises me by plopping down in the space beside me, his face turned up toward the ceiling. After a few moments of silence while I catch my breath, Eli surprises me even more by telling me about Sadie.

  Chapter 23

  Eli

  Every day that Lyla spends in The Hollow sends me into a deeper spiral. I'm falling behind on work, barely able to focus on any task for very long before my mind trails off to her in whatever position I had her bent into the night before. Marnie is catching on to us and I can tell the fallout is coming sooner than I'm ready to admit. She was on board when she thought I'd pursue her sister in an honorable way. Apparently, meaningless hook-ups with Lyla are not an acceptable way to gain the blessing of my best friend.

  On top of it, Ma's mental health is only getting worse. It's starting to affect her physically, too. The other day, she fell while getting out of the shower and twisted her ankle. Two hours later, she had already forgotten about the incident and stood too quickly from the couch. She almost broke a hip but allowed her wrist to take the brunt of the fall instead. Now, she's got a sprained ankle, a broken wrist, and a mind that keeps playing tricks on her.