Ophelia’s lips twitched, knowing that confession transcended the sex. The pads of her fingers crawled up my neck and cupped my face, dragging my mouth down onto hers.
“I don’t want it to, either.”
My hips stuttered, and everything from my head to my heels hummed together in glorious unison as my cock flared inside of her, emptying in long, numbing pulls. All the while Ophelia held me the way I needed her to, clutching and digging, sinking into my skin where we both knew I’d never fully be able to heal the scars.
40
It felt like yesterday I was filing out of baggage claim with blind hope about a snarky pilot I’d met on the flight. Now I was attempting to shove three weeks of self-discovery and a pseudo-relationship into the bottom of my rolling luggage for the return to Colorado in a day.
For once I wasn’t homesick for mountains and snow. I didn’t care to return to the fresh scent of wind-swept pine needles. I didn’t miss the cold air or the bite of frost every morning on the walk to my car. I wasn’t worried about my siblings, or my students, the lesson plans I didn’t write or the emails I left unanswered.
What I was dying to sweep like sand into a little glass bottle to keep was the smell of espresso leaking out of the coffee machine. The feel of my skin wrapped in flannel and cotton, warm fingertips tracing tan lines beneath the shade of covers. Secret kisses, butterfly wings, waves of brown hair tangled in between my fingers. I wanted to liquify the sound of his sleepy voice the first thing in the morning. Shove all of the moons we looked up at, and all the grass we walked on, and all the flowers we stopped to admire into a jar and keep them forever.
Big, annoying feelings for the woman who spent so much time thinking emotion like that could never exist.
“Your carry-on looks like you robbed a toy drive,” Nat said.
The gifts I’d wrapped to take home were stacked inside a tote bag and garnished with silver bows. I couldn’t shove them in the suitcase without crushing everything, and Nat already had to sit on it while I wrestled the fickle zipper shut.
Her guest room was empty and hollow, all the drawers clear of clothes, the closet back to Natalia’s own wardrobe overflow. Ironically we’d spent more nights across town at the house than we had the quaint little apartment.
“Remind me why you still live here again?”
“Independence.” She shrugged. “But really because I told Mateo I’d never live with a man without a ring on my finger and now look at me. Full commitment in less than a year.”
“Evil genius.” I cackled. “Is that the secret? Be obtusely unavailable? Play them at their own game?”
Nat collapsed on the bed on her stomach and kicked her feet up behind her. “Men are so simple. You make everything an ultimatum with you on one end and whatever bullshit misogynistic thing they learned from their mother on the other. At the end of the day Mommy isn’t the one on her knees.”
My nose wrinkled. “I hate when you make good points the bad way and send me farther and farther away from grace.”
“Grace doesn’t come back from Miami covered in bite marks, babe.”
My hand shot to the side of my neck. “He made me a whore.”
“You always were, deep down. You just needed the right key to unlock it.”
I put my hands on my hips and did a cursory glance around the room. “What if…there’s only one key? And all the other keys are too jagged or small or just try to shove themselves in and break off inside the keyhole?”
“Well…” Nat tilted her head. “If there’s only one key, and then you lose it, you can always…go get a replacement that does the job just the same. It might just take some time.”
“I’m very attached to my key.”
“It’s a good key.”
“Very sturdy,” I added.
“That’s an important quality,” she agreed.
“Versatile.”
“Mine’s been known to open an Amazon package or two.”
“Well endowed.”
Nat grimaced. “I can’t keep playing this game.”
“Fuck.” I blew out an overwhelmed breath. Which turned into a staring contest with the ceiling where my eyes welled with tears and I tried and failed to will them away with my tongue in my cheek.
“Oh God, Phee. I’m sorry.” Natalia hopped up from the bed and embraced me, tucking her shorter frame under my arms and laying a cheek on my chest.
“It’s my fault.” I sniffled. “You warned me.”
“I also totally condoned it, and up until a few days ago had no regrets because you guys needed each other. I guess I just didn’t realize how much.”
Natalia thought we needed each other like someone might need a vitamin. For enhancement, a push, strength, better overall well-being. No, Frankie and I needed each other like an IV.
“I’m as shocked as you are,” I admitted. “I feel like I met someone who really sees me. He dug up all these habits I thought were rooted and made me reflect on them instead of water them.”
“He also made you a fucking poet apparently.”
I laughed, the motion releasing a solo tear down my face that I wiped away. “What the fuck? This vacation was supposed to be relaxing and quiet and now I’m crying in your guest bedroom over a man I didn’t even know a month ago.”
“This isn’t the end,” she said. “He’s in Mateo’s life like you’re in mine. You’ll see him at a million more functions. And who knows? Maybe in a few months he’ll be out in Colorado too.”
In a few months we could also both be completely different people if this entire experience had taught me anything.
The bell chimed at the front door and we pulled away from one another gently.
“Dinner’s here,” Nat chirped. “Come out when you’re ready.”
She disappeared through the open door and a few seconds later the chatter of voices sifted down the hallway, reaching me in whispers. Instead of joining them, I curled in on myself, checked the bathroom for the hundredth time, opened and closed every last drawer, pretended any of my dresses might have gotten mixed in with Natalia’s. Then I organized my outfit for the plane, folded it like I would at a department store, made a physical note in my phone not to forget the charger plugged into the wall behind the nightstand, and got down on my hands and knees to stick my head under the bed and check I hadn’t lost a stray sock.
It was only then that a shadow eclipsed me from the doorway, followed by the gruff clearing of said shadow’s throat.
“You could knock,” I quipped, retreating from under the frame. Too quickly though, and I smacked the back of my head on the low-hanging metal. “Son of a bitch.”
“I didn’t want to scare you.” Frankie’s voice came closer. “And I was enjoying the view.” Two big palms hooked under my arms and lifted me off the floor and onto the bed. “You okay?”
“I’ll survive,” I muttered, rubbing the crown of my head.
“Did you find what you were looking for?”
A trap door, a safe room, a little hole to crawl into if it meant avoiding that final dinner with my friends before I had to go back to Colorado.
The longer I prolonged it the farther away it got, right?