14
Liam
I didn’t spend the night. I should have. After all we did together, the intense intimacy, I should have held her all night so I could have the gift of waking up with her wrapped in my arms. To see Sophie awaken, her eyes opening to see me, her face softening into a smile to start that day, that would be like magic.
But I didn’t stay the night. I didn’t bolt, either, though. We both lazed in bed after we had sex, not saying much. Personally, it was mostly because I felt speechless. The feeling of being inside her? It was like nothing I’d ever experienced, even compared to being with her seven years ago. Back then, everything had been intense, but we’d also been kids. Neither of us had had any idea what we were doing. With off-the-charts chemistry like we had, we didn’t exactly require a lot of technique to enjoy ourselves, but compared to what we’d done last night it looked like bumbling and fumbling.
Last night, my head had exploded. OK, both heads. Afterward I couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, I just lay there with her sprawled across my chest realizing this was it. Sophie was my forever. Whether or not we actually ended up together, I’d never find anyone else like her. No matter what happened between us, I’d love her the rest of my life.
Once she roused a bit, I led her into the shower. Lathering and massaging her in the warm water, I made sure she’d feel good the next day, too. I’d used her body like a beast, but I tried to make up for it by treating her like a gentleman in the aftermath. After toweling her off, I massaged her with lotion, too, taking extra care with her sore bottom. Seeing it so pink and fresh made me hard all over again, but I restrained myself. She probably couldn’t take much more just then. As I massaged her in bed she drowsed, half asleep, relaxing more and more the longer I rubbed her.
“Do you feel good, baby?” I’d asked in a whisper. I’d been hard on her. I’d also seen and felt her orgasm with the power of nuclear fireworks, but I still felt guilty about what I’d done. Deep down, I knew there was something wrong with my impulse toward violence. A good man wouldn’t get off on hitting a woman, even in consensual arrangements.
“Feel so good,” she’d murmured, signing contentedly and nuzzling into her pillow.
As she fell asleep, I sat there and realized I hadn’t used a condom. I always used a condom. How had I not used a condom?
I’d gotten up, dressed and left her another of my lame notes on her pillow. But this time I really did intend to call and see her the next day. Of course, last time I’d had the best of intentions, too. I shouldn’t leave, but I couldn’t spend the night next to her. I couldn’t explain why other than a crazy restlessness coursing through my body, keeping my eyes propped wide open and awake. I told myself at least part of why I left was for her. I’d wake her up tossing and turning like that.
Still, I felt like a dog driving home, like I’d fucked with her and fucked her and then snuck out after she fell asleep. I didn’t sleep well at home, either, and at seven a.m. I still had that boundless energy pumping through me. Pulling on shorts, a tee and sneakers, I headed out for a run. I turned right back around after I set foot outside to grab a cap. It was windy and a light drizzle pattered down all around me.
I liked all kinds of weather. You had to, to live out on a New England island. Most people thought of Naugatuck in the summer months, because that was when they visited, but year-rounders experienced it all, sleet, slush, snow, hail, ice, all compounded by whatever the ocean made up its mind to do. I smiled, thinking of Jax. I bet he’d grown soft enough out in Cali by now he’d head to the gym on a day like today. Even Chase, the toughest competitive athlete I knew, had lived in California, then Arizona and now Florida since high school.
Of the four of us, only Ian and I still lived in tough climates. He’d moved into the home the Douglas family owned in Scotland. Retreated, more like it. He hadn’t said much about it, but the little I’d heard made it sound like a crumbling ancestral castle falling off a cliff into the sea. But maybe I’d seen one too many movies. Either way, the boy needed to haul his ass back where his friends and family could help keep his spirits up instead of secluding himself.
But I was one to talk. As my healthy legs took my swiftly across the pavement, I remembered what a lucky bastard I was. The night of the accident it could have been me who got cracked across the back by a flaming mast, trapped there waiting for a rescue. Who knew how I would have taken it, getting so injured at 14 most doctors said I’d never walk again. A few had held out hope, as had Ian, but then somewhere along the line that had all vanished.
Sophie had a lot going on. Her brother in all that pain, her sister Margot obviously off in some sort of a mess, leaving her five-year-old daughter with a nanny for weeks on end. And from what she’d told me, her mother somehow seemed to find her flawlessly beautiful professional ballerina daughter a disappointment.
A man like Theo would pamper her so she’d never have to lift a finger again. He’d seemed so appalled at her involvement with all the work going on at her studio. He didn’t even seem all that enthusiastic about her operating a dance studio. Maybe he was right. What did I know about the world of the independently wealthy? I’d been a working schmuck all my life and I always would be. When you didn’t have to work for a living, what were you supposed to do all day, every day?
Somehow, I thought Sophie had it right, though. Her brother isolated and depressed, her sister partying her life away, her mother soaked in alcohol and circulating endlessly in high society, was she supposed to follow their lead? The way I saw it she’d found something she felt excited about in a real way and she was pursuing it with passion. She’d have fun doing it, too, sharing something she was so good at with other people. Wasn’t that was life was really about?
Passing the farmer’s market, I decided to pick up a bag each of raspberries and strawberries for my mom. She loved them fresh and ripe, and mid-July they were just coming into season. Thankfully, it was under a mile home and I was able to deliver my cargo with minimal damage.
“Berries for you, Ma!” I announced, barging in the side door off the main house.
“What are you doing out in this rain?” She rounded the corner, looking at me like I was crazy. I guessed somewhere along the line the drizzle had turned into a steady downpour. I’d been moving and so consumed with my thoughts I hadn’t noticed.
“I know you like them fresh.” I held up the bags, depositing them gently onto the countertop. I left a large puddle. Realizing I’d tracked in all sorts of mud and water, I started making my way out again. “Sorry I’ve made a mess.”
“It’s not the first time and it won’t be the last.” She laughed, looking at my trail of filth.
I gave her a smile. “Working today?” She did about three daytime nursing shifts a week at the local hospital.
“Tomorrow. Which means maybe I can do something with these berries.” She started eyeing them, filtering through recipes in her head.
“OK, have fun.”
“Thank you for the berries, honey,” she called after me. “You are going to make someone a great husband one day.”
“Thanks. I don’t know about that,” I muttered, not thinking she could hear me.
“I do,” she insisted. I guessed she had heard.
Would she still say that if she knew what I’d done to Sophie last night? How her cries of pain, the sound of the slap of my hand, the sight of her skin growing pink had all turned me on? It was one thing to play like that in an anonymous setting. At the club in Boston no one knew my name and I didn’t know theirs. It gave it an element of unreality.
But Sophie? I knew her family, was friends with her brother. Ian already didn’t return my calls. He’d probably firebomb my house if he had any idea what I’d done to his sister last night.
At home, I showered and got ready to head over to Sophie’s studio again. The phone rang and I answered when I saw it was Cha
se calling.
“What’s up, man?” It had been a few weeks since we’d last spoken. Usually I was pretty good about keeping in touch. Especially when he’d been training for the Olympics, he’d tended to hunker down, but normally I kept things going. Lately, though, I’d had a lot on my mind.
“Busy with the rec center.” He and his new wife Emma had opened what sounded like an amazing center down where they lived in Florida. What did you do after you won all kinds of Olympic medals? If you were Chase, you gave back, opening up a swim and recreational center that offered programs to every man, woman and child in the area on a sliding scale. He’d partnered with a deep-pocketed investor and a lot of kids and elderly in the neighborhood used the place for free, and from what I’d seen it was a high-end facility. I hadn’t been down to visit yet, though.
“When are you going to get your ass down here? I heard you flew out to visit Jax and he’s all the way across the country.”
“Word travels fast.”
“No Fourth of July party this year?”
“I wasn’t feeling it,” I acknowledged.
“First time in years you’ve skipped it.”
“Yeah.” I’d thrown it five years in a row.
“What’s up? You OK?”
“Yup.” I thought about leaving it at that. But this was Chase I was talking to. I’d had his back when shit had gone down with Emma. I decided to tell him. “Sophie’s back in town.”
Chase made a low whistle. He got it instantly. He knew how hard I’d fallen for her the first time around, and then how low I’d sunk afterward. Plus, add her brother into the mix, her mother’s hatred of me, it was a potently fucked up cocktail I was drinking.
“Are you seeing each other?” he asked. I could hear a female voice on the other end. His wife must be sitting next to him.