Hooking Up
Page 68
I love you. I want to be with you. I should’ve waited for you to come back with that drink. I say none of those things. I can’t even look at him when I whisper, “I’m afraid I can’t answer that right now.”
He moves in close and runs soft fingertips along my cheek. “Okay. I’m going to stop pushing you for answers you’re not ready to give.”
I lean in to the touch. It’s like everything else ceases to exist as soon as we’re connected this way. I want to lose myself in him, but I know I can’t. Not when there are things I need to take care of first. Not when there are endings that need to happen before we start a new beginning. I turn my face and hold his hand in mine, pressing my lips against his palm.
Lex’s eyes fall shut as a rueful smile curves the corner of his mouth. “You know I don’t ever want to say no to you.”
I nod. “I know.” I think I love him all the more for wanting to be more than just a distraction from tonight.
“I know what I want, and I know exactly how I feel about you. As soon as you figure you out, we can figure us out.”
Twenty-Six: Unbreak Me
Amie
Three Weeks Later
Today is the big day. After months of saying I did not want to get a divorce—who would want to be divorced after less than a day of marriage—Pierce and his colleague, who specializes in family law at his firm, finally talked me into filing divorce papers. I was tired of being unwillingly chained to Armstrong. Pierce took real pleasure in telling Armstrong. But the real satisfaction came when he mentioned that the divorce would activate a fidelity clause in the prenup. After realizing how much money and stock in Moorehead Media he’d have to give me, he quickly signed the annulment papers. I would’ve been offended if I hadn’t been so relieved.
Finally the nightmare is over and Armstrong is out of my life—well, as out of it as he can be since he’s related to my best friend’s fiancé and my boyfriend. But at least seeing him will be isolated to her wedding and the occasional social event.
I call Ruby the second the paperwork is filed. “I’m free!”
She squeals excitedly. “Finally! Want to come over for an Anti-Armstrong celebration cocktail? I’m pretty sure we have champagne chilling in the wine fridge.”
I get into the waiting Uber. “Thanks for the offer, but I have something I need to do.”
“Don’t you mean someone you need to do?”
“Ha ha. It’s the middle of the day, I’m just stopping by the Concord to say hi.”
“In case you didn’t realize it, Amie, that’s a hotel, with literally hundreds of beds. There’s plenty of opportunity for you to use your vagina to say hi to his penis if you want.”
I snort. While I’m certainly looking forward to all variety of greetings, what I’m most excited and nervous about is finally being able to do away with the secrecy. The people closest to us know, but this means we’ll be able to attend functions together and not worry about backlash or gossip. And go on dates, and eat in restaurants, and hold hands in public. I’ve never been so excited about PDAs.
“So does this mean you two don’t need chaperones anymore?”
“We didn’t need chaperones in the first place.”
Now it’s Ruby’s turn to make a disbelieving sound. “You do realize the last time we had dinner the two of you made fuck-eyes at each other the entire time.”
“Like you’re one to talk. You and Bane make fuck-eyes at each other constantly.”
“We do n— Okay, you have a point, we do that often. Can I tell you how proud I am of you right now?”
“For getting Armstrong to sign the annulment papers?”
“For allowing yourself to take a chance on someone who actually deserves you.”
“Okay, I’m getting off the phone before you make me cry and my mascara runs.”
“Your mascara is always waterproof.”
“I don’t want cry-eyes, only fuck-eyes. I love you. Wish me luck.”
“Luck.”
I hang up and take a deep breath as the car pulls up in front of the Concord, where Lex is working this afternoon.
In the weeks since the engagement party he’s been in regular contact. To be completely honest, almost nothing has changed between us apart from how often we see each other. Phone calls, texts, some video chats all became our norm. But sex is off the table and so are sleepovers. Which is part of the reason we haven’t seen as much of each other.
It’s not just about my limited control, it’s his as well, which makes me feel slightly better. When we’re together we’re compelled to touch, and that can be dangerous. I am ashamed to report I have tried to get into his pants every time I’ve seen him. I even suggested just the tip once. And dry humping. He still said no, although I could tell it wasn’t easy.
The six times I’ve seen Lex—all planned and in public places—the only contact I’m allowed is a hug and some hand holding. He won’t even kiss me—well he did, but it was on the cheek. I tried the sneaky-quick head turn to get some lip-on-lip contact. It didn’t work the way I wanted it to.
Lex has made it perfectly clear that until I’m where I need to be emotionally, his dick is staying in his pants and out of me. It’s some solid incentive to sort myself out. I miss him. Not just the sex, which I definitely miss, but just being near him. I hadn’t realized in the months since we started sleeping together just how close we’d become. I miss the constant contact. I miss snuggling. I miss sleeping beside him and the warmth of his body next to mine. I feel as though an extension of myself has been removed without that closeness.
I tried to expedite the process, but the truth is I’ve had a lot of personal sorting to do that no amount of yoga or self-defense classes could help me with. I don’t let people get too close to me because I’m afraid I’ll end up like my parents, who are constantly running away from each other. I fear being let down or being left behind.
The only person I’ve ever allowed to get close and stay close is Ruby, because she’s been there with me through everything, my endless rebellions, my parents’ unstable, tumultuous relationship, moving to New York, my string of hot yet terrible boyfriends.
Armstrong seemed safe because he appeared to be the polar opposite of who I’d been attracted to. I fell in love with the idea of safety instead of an actual person. Spending the rest of my life in a loveless marriage would’ve been torture. And then Lex came and turned everything upside down. I tried to run, but I just ended up going in circles, because I finally had a taste of what real love, the kind that makes a person want to stay, could be like.
Through this entire thing Lex has been my constant. After Ruby’s engagement party he didn’t give me space like I expected. Instead he messaged daily, just to tell me he was thinking about me and that he was here if I needed him. It’s the way he’s been from the beginning—since he saved me in the airport from the security jerks rummaging through my sex toy tickle trunk. Or maybe even before that, from the moment he introduced himself and offered to get me a drink, he’s been there, sometimes in the background, just waiting—watching—but not in a creepy way.
Lex is a tender soul. The more I let my guard down and him in, the more of that tenderness I see. He’s still a flirt and incredibly filthy, but there’s another side to him, one I caught glimpses of in Bora Bora, and once we were back in New York.
He moves in close and runs soft fingertips along my cheek. “Okay. I’m going to stop pushing you for answers you’re not ready to give.”
I lean in to the touch. It’s like everything else ceases to exist as soon as we’re connected this way. I want to lose myself in him, but I know I can’t. Not when there are things I need to take care of first. Not when there are endings that need to happen before we start a new beginning. I turn my face and hold his hand in mine, pressing my lips against his palm.
Lex’s eyes fall shut as a rueful smile curves the corner of his mouth. “You know I don’t ever want to say no to you.”
I nod. “I know.” I think I love him all the more for wanting to be more than just a distraction from tonight.
“I know what I want, and I know exactly how I feel about you. As soon as you figure you out, we can figure us out.”
Twenty-Six: Unbreak Me
Amie
Three Weeks Later
Today is the big day. After months of saying I did not want to get a divorce—who would want to be divorced after less than a day of marriage—Pierce and his colleague, who specializes in family law at his firm, finally talked me into filing divorce papers. I was tired of being unwillingly chained to Armstrong. Pierce took real pleasure in telling Armstrong. But the real satisfaction came when he mentioned that the divorce would activate a fidelity clause in the prenup. After realizing how much money and stock in Moorehead Media he’d have to give me, he quickly signed the annulment papers. I would’ve been offended if I hadn’t been so relieved.
Finally the nightmare is over and Armstrong is out of my life—well, as out of it as he can be since he’s related to my best friend’s fiancé and my boyfriend. But at least seeing him will be isolated to her wedding and the occasional social event.
I call Ruby the second the paperwork is filed. “I’m free!”
She squeals excitedly. “Finally! Want to come over for an Anti-Armstrong celebration cocktail? I’m pretty sure we have champagne chilling in the wine fridge.”
I get into the waiting Uber. “Thanks for the offer, but I have something I need to do.”
“Don’t you mean someone you need to do?”
“Ha ha. It’s the middle of the day, I’m just stopping by the Concord to say hi.”
“In case you didn’t realize it, Amie, that’s a hotel, with literally hundreds of beds. There’s plenty of opportunity for you to use your vagina to say hi to his penis if you want.”
I snort. While I’m certainly looking forward to all variety of greetings, what I’m most excited and nervous about is finally being able to do away with the secrecy. The people closest to us know, but this means we’ll be able to attend functions together and not worry about backlash or gossip. And go on dates, and eat in restaurants, and hold hands in public. I’ve never been so excited about PDAs.
“So does this mean you two don’t need chaperones anymore?”
“We didn’t need chaperones in the first place.”
Now it’s Ruby’s turn to make a disbelieving sound. “You do realize the last time we had dinner the two of you made fuck-eyes at each other the entire time.”
“Like you’re one to talk. You and Bane make fuck-eyes at each other constantly.”
“We do n— Okay, you have a point, we do that often. Can I tell you how proud I am of you right now?”
“For getting Armstrong to sign the annulment papers?”
“For allowing yourself to take a chance on someone who actually deserves you.”
“Okay, I’m getting off the phone before you make me cry and my mascara runs.”
“Your mascara is always waterproof.”
“I don’t want cry-eyes, only fuck-eyes. I love you. Wish me luck.”
“Luck.”
I hang up and take a deep breath as the car pulls up in front of the Concord, where Lex is working this afternoon.
In the weeks since the engagement party he’s been in regular contact. To be completely honest, almost nothing has changed between us apart from how often we see each other. Phone calls, texts, some video chats all became our norm. But sex is off the table and so are sleepovers. Which is part of the reason we haven’t seen as much of each other.
It’s not just about my limited control, it’s his as well, which makes me feel slightly better. When we’re together we’re compelled to touch, and that can be dangerous. I am ashamed to report I have tried to get into his pants every time I’ve seen him. I even suggested just the tip once. And dry humping. He still said no, although I could tell it wasn’t easy.
The six times I’ve seen Lex—all planned and in public places—the only contact I’m allowed is a hug and some hand holding. He won’t even kiss me—well he did, but it was on the cheek. I tried the sneaky-quick head turn to get some lip-on-lip contact. It didn’t work the way I wanted it to.
Lex has made it perfectly clear that until I’m where I need to be emotionally, his dick is staying in his pants and out of me. It’s some solid incentive to sort myself out. I miss him. Not just the sex, which I definitely miss, but just being near him. I hadn’t realized in the months since we started sleeping together just how close we’d become. I miss the constant contact. I miss snuggling. I miss sleeping beside him and the warmth of his body next to mine. I feel as though an extension of myself has been removed without that closeness.
I tried to expedite the process, but the truth is I’ve had a lot of personal sorting to do that no amount of yoga or self-defense classes could help me with. I don’t let people get too close to me because I’m afraid I’ll end up like my parents, who are constantly running away from each other. I fear being let down or being left behind.
The only person I’ve ever allowed to get close and stay close is Ruby, because she’s been there with me through everything, my endless rebellions, my parents’ unstable, tumultuous relationship, moving to New York, my string of hot yet terrible boyfriends.
Armstrong seemed safe because he appeared to be the polar opposite of who I’d been attracted to. I fell in love with the idea of safety instead of an actual person. Spending the rest of my life in a loveless marriage would’ve been torture. And then Lex came and turned everything upside down. I tried to run, but I just ended up going in circles, because I finally had a taste of what real love, the kind that makes a person want to stay, could be like.
Through this entire thing Lex has been my constant. After Ruby’s engagement party he didn’t give me space like I expected. Instead he messaged daily, just to tell me he was thinking about me and that he was here if I needed him. It’s the way he’s been from the beginning—since he saved me in the airport from the security jerks rummaging through my sex toy tickle trunk. Or maybe even before that, from the moment he introduced himself and offered to get me a drink, he’s been there, sometimes in the background, just waiting—watching—but not in a creepy way.
Lex is a tender soul. The more I let my guard down and him in, the more of that tenderness I see. He’s still a flirt and incredibly filthy, but there’s another side to him, one I caught glimpses of in Bora Bora, and once we were back in New York.
