I WANT TO SAY today’s session was a breakthrough, but I’d be lying. When we arrived I was hopeful. Walking into a room that I dreaded last time felt different, almost refreshing. It was as if I wore sunglasses last time. I had a sense of calm and understanding this time.
Today, I wanted to be there with Evan. I thought we’d be able to make some headway, but wounds were torn open, both his, mine and ours. It’s a process; I think we both know that. I was foolish to think that one additional session was going to fix us. I had hope. I thought that I’d feel somewhat better. I don’t. I know I’m hurting Evan each day that I wear this ring. I’ll be hurting him more if I make the decision to keep wearing it. I’m hurting Nate, even though he’s not here, by thinking about a life with Evan, dreaming about the life we should’ve had.
Maybe I should go away. That might be best for everyone involved. EJ and I could find happiness elsewhere in some other state. He’s young enough to adapt… my thought about EJ adapting stops my thought process. If I’m so willing to leave and have him adjust, why can’t I force the issue with Evan being his father?
Because I’m a chicken shit, that’s why.
Evan drives, winding us through the streets leading back to our house. The sun is bright and bearing down on my face as I lean partially out the window. The air conditioner is blowing, but I want the wind in my face. I’m sure it’s irritating Evan, but right now I don’t care. I feel like a kid again and it feels amazing.
“Do you remember that one time –”
“That you went to band camp?”
I roll my eyes and sit up straight. “You just had to go there?”
Evan laughs and turns down the radio. “I couldn’t help myself. Babe, we must’ve watched American Pie over and over again until we had it memorized.”
“It was dumb. When Jim humped the pie I really thought you and Nate were going to try it.” I laugh at the memory, but my mood quickly turns somber when I mention Nate. I shake my head, clearing my thoughts. “Anyway, it’s a good thing I never let you try to whole flute thing.”
Loud laughter quickly fills the car, and I can’t help but join in. “You know I was joking, right?”
“I know, although at first I thought you might be serious. We had just started dating when you said it. I got a little scared.”
“You know I’d never do anything to hurt you or make you uncomfortable, right?” Evan reaches across the console and rests his hand on my leg. This is the first time he’s touched me since we left the therapist’s office. His fingers graze the inside of my thigh, creating a wave of goose bumps. I love the sensation, and honestly wish I could do something about it. I make a mental note to call and leave Nate another message. He needs to come home so we can deal with this together.
“You still with me?”
I look over and smile at Evan. He’s not watching me, he’s watching the road, which I suppose is a good thing since he’s driving. I use this moment to study him. Since he’s been home I haven’t really gotten a very good look at him until now. He’s lost weight, not a considerable amount, but noticeable. His jaw line is more defined and prevalent. His hair seems to have a hint of gray. I won’t be able to tell for sure until he grows it out. His arms, one of my favorite features, are bigger but not bugling. You can tell he’s lifted a lot of heavy objects but not weights.
Sitting here watching him, the urge to trace his jaw strikes me. I fold my hands in my lap to prevent me from reaching over to him and keep up with my staring. I’m sure he doesn’t mind because surely he knows when eyes are watching him. That’s what he’s trained to know. I want to run my fingers over his hair and feel the prickly sensation I used to get after a few days of growth has appeared after his buzz cut. I can see him now, closing his eyes as I rub his head, him melting into my palm as my fingers move softly over his scalp. I used to be able to lay there for hours and just run my fingertips back and forth, letting the softness lull me to sleep. He never once complained.
“You’re thinking about touching me aren’t you?”
If I didn’t know better I’d say he’s a mind reader, but that’s not the case. He’s a freaking pervert and only has one thing on his mind. I shake my head and turn my gaze out the front window. We’re close to the beach, in the opposite direction of our house.
“Where are we going?”
“You didn’t answer my question,” he retorts.
“It wasn’t a question, Evan; it was a statement that I’m not going to dignify with a response.”
“Ah, she wants me,” he says as he starts tickling my leg. I have to grab his hand with both of mine to get him away.
“Stop, Evan, you’re going to crash the car.”
“Just admit it.”
“I won’t.”
Evan pulls into the parking lot and slams the car into park. He relaxes his hand allowing me to release my grip. “Admit it.”
I shake my head.
He slips his hand behind my neck and pulls me closer. “Admit it, Ry,” he says huskily making my palpations rise. I swallow hard and refuse to let him win.
Evan pulls me forward, crashing his lips to mine. Before, our kisses have been simple and sweet. This is the opposite. The moment his tongue touches mine, I’m transformed back in time. I’m sitting across from him in the ice cream shop. I’m next to him on the Ferris wheel. We’re lying on a bed of blankets looking at the stars. He’s in my room, slowly undressing himself and me before he lies next to me. We’re in the grass, with this hand on my stomach and he’s asking me to marry him.
My hands grip the back of his neck, my nails digging into his skin. He moans, and my body begs to be touched by him. I’m lifted out of my seat. My back is pressed against the steering wheel and I’m no longer a women in my thirties, but seventeen and horny. Willing and ready to get into the backseat just so I can feel my boyfriend inside of me.
“We have to stop,” I say against his lips, but make no effort to push myself away from him. He senses this and pulls me in deeper. Hands are everywhere. His. Mine. Skin is touched and burning with desire. His thumb brushes against the valley of my breasts and I lean in, aching for his touch, missing the way we were.
“God, Ryley, I f*cking want you.”
My nails rake through his hair. I grind against him, feeling his bulge press between my legs. We’ve been here before, down this path. The end result is what I want, but I can’t have. He knows this. I know this.
I pull away slowly already missing the way my lips feel when he’s kissing them. His eyes are hooded and his breathing is labored. He’s at his tipping point. I carefully try to extract myself from his lap, but his hands clamp down on my hips.
“Don’t move,” he says as he rocks his hips into mine. My eyes roll back as I bite down on my lip and meet him with each thrust. “Tell me you don’t want me. Say the words, babe, and I’ll stop.”
I brace my hands against his shoulders, my lips against his neck. I trail kisses up until I reach his ear and gently pull his lobe in between my teeth. “I do want you, but I can’t. Please don’t pressure me to do something I’ll regret.”