Only Love
Page 20
“Jesus Christ.” Ryan’s voice cracked. “I’m sorry, Stella.”
“What? Why?”
He picked his head up, although it seemed like it took some effort. “I was too fast.”
“Fuck off,” I told him. “That was perfect.”
He smiled, and I felt it everywhere in my body.
It was almost as good as an orgasm.
He walked me home.
Like right to the front door, as if we’d just been to the prom.
“This is very gentlemanly of you.” I gave him a kiss on the cheek.
He caught me in his arms, and my heart rate picked up again. “I like that you think I’m a gentleman.”
“I know you are.” I put my arms around his neck. “Don’t try to hide it. I know you make your bed.”
He grimaced. “A hard habit to break.”
“Don’t break it. It’s nice.”
He looked down at me. “Are you gonna get in trouble for coming home so late?”
“I don’t think so. Something tells me Grams had this whole thing in mind when she manipulated me into coming up here.”
“Manipulated you?”
“Let’s just say she faked a few old-lady problems to spark my concern, and talked a lot about the boy next door.”
“Boy?”
I giggled. “Yes. You weren’t what I pictured at all.”
“I guess that explains why she suddenly decided to let me paint her front porch this weekend.”
“Probably.” I felt a pang of regret, and confessed. “I’m leaving on Friday.”
Was it my imagination or did he pull back a little? His arms stayed around my waist, but I felt his body tense up.
“It’s just as well,” he said, letting go of me.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, it doesn’t really matter when you leave.” He shoved his hands in his pockets.
“Well, what are you doing tomorrow?” I asked. “Can you maybe come over for dinner?”
“Nah, I don’t think so.” He looked toward the street, frowning.
“Why not?”
“I’ve got a work thing.”
I hesitated, but ultimately decided to speak up. “I don’t believe you.”
He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
“Ryan, come on. Can’t I see you again before I go?”
“Look, I don’t date, okay? This was fun tonight, and I hope you had a good time, but let’s not make too much out of it.”
I was stunned into silence. Crickets chirped.
“You should go in,” he said. Every trace of the lighthearted man I’d been with for the last couple hours was gone. It was like the curtain had gone up and he’d become someone else.
“Okay …” Still reeling, I opened the front door, hoping he’d stop me.
But he didn’t.
He took off down the steps, jogging across the lawn toward his house, as if he couldn’t wait to get away from me.
Despite all that had happened between us, I felt I didn’t know him after all.
Fifteen
Ryan
You fucking idiot.
Now look what you did.
I went back home, let myself in the back door, couldn’t even bring myself to glance at the counter where I’d had my face buried between her legs as I passed through. God, she’d tasted like heaven on earth. And her skin was like satin against mine. Losing myself inside her had been the most intense physical pleasure I’d felt in a lifetime. For those few minutes, I was able to forget everything else.
In my room, I tossed my clothes on the floor and threw myself down on my stupid mattress, hands behind my head as I frowned at the cracked plaster in the ceiling.
I’d hurt and confused her again, and I hated myself for it. For those couple hours it had been so nice to pretend it was just us that existed, tucked away in a dark room, finding a safe place in the world and in one another. I’d forgotten how good it could feel to be honest with someone that way. To be real.
And I’d forgotten it couldn’t last.
When she mentioned leaving on Friday, it was like realizing the plane was about to crash and I’d better jump the fuck out. So I had.
I should have just stayed away from her like I planned.
I was furious with myself for being so weak, furious with Mack for telling me I needed to get laid, and I even managed to place some blame on Stella for coming outside in her pajamas with her hair all pillow-messed and her skin smelling so sweet. She was an irresistible siren and she knew it, luring me in with her seductive voice and wide eyes and that uncanny ability to see inside my soul.
Above all, you value your honor. Your word.
Christ, how did she know that kind of shit?
I bet she was really fucking good at her job. I bet she was really fucking good at everything.
My phone buzzed on the floor next to me, and I picked it up. Bones had sent another photograph of a few guys in our squad, including himself, Mack, me, and Kopecki, an awesome guy from outside Chicago we’d lost to an IED blast somewhere in southern Afghanistan. Two words accompanied the pic.
Remember Kopecki?
Of course I did. I remembered his obnoxious laugh—and the guy laughed at fucking anything—and I remembered he spoke Polish to his grandmother. I remembered him telling me this story about some gymnast he dated that somehow sucked his dick while she was upside down, and he swore to God he was going to go home and propose to her.
And I remembered the blast that took his life. He never had a chance.
Bones and Kopecki had been tight.
Sure I do, I texted back to Bones. He was a great guy.
Bones replied right away. I miss him. I miss everybody.
I know, I typed. It was a lame way to reply, but I had no wisdom to offer Bones. Missing people was the fucking worst. But there was nothing you could do about it, and the more you sat around remembering them, the worse it got. You had to shut that shit down.
That was why I couldn’t see Stella again. She had me feeling things that made me nervous, things that were more than physical. Connection. Understanding. Ease.
And if I wasn’t careful, I might start to feel other things too—things that had threatened to destroy me, things I’d worked so hard to escape. Guilt. Grief. Regret. The kind that could swallow you whole.
I couldn’t risk it. Not even for her.
Sixteen
Stella
The following morning, I took an early run, going in the opposite direction of Ryan’s house. I wasn’t sure I could handle seeing him yet.
I tried not to think about him as I ran, but it was impossible. Somehow every thought led back to him and what we’d done. What I’d been able to do.
For the first time, I’d been able to relax enough with another person to actually enjoy sex. Like, a lot. So much that I was kind of devastated that it didn’t appear Ryan was interested in doing it again. So had it not been as good for him? I didn’t want to draw that conclusion, but what other conclusion was there to draw? Why else would he have suddenly blown me off?
Immediately feelings of insecurity and self-loathing began to eat at me. I wasn’t hot. I wasn’t sensual. I wasn’t the kind of woman to make him want more.
Stop thinking about it.
I forced myself to focus on my form, my breathing, my pace. Anything but last night.
When I got back to Grams’s house, she was already up. The kitchen smelled like coffee and something sweet in the oven.
“Good morning, dear!” she chirped. “I’ve made us some nice dark roast and blueberry muffins.”
“Thanks,” I said, grabbing a glass from the cupboard and filling it with water. “I’m not hungry right this second, but I might eat something later.”
“Not hungry? How can that be? Didn’t you work up enough of an appetite last night?”
“Last night?” I faced her, noting the sly smile.
“Well, yes. Weren’t you with Mr. Woods last night? I imagine he’s pretty good in the feathers. The type to really make you sweat.” Her eyes danced over the rim of her coffee cup.
“Jesus, Grams. Enough.” I turned back to the sink and drank the water down.
“You mean you weren’t with Mr. Woods? Oh, pardon me, dear. My mistake.”
“What? Why?”
He picked his head up, although it seemed like it took some effort. “I was too fast.”
“Fuck off,” I told him. “That was perfect.”
He smiled, and I felt it everywhere in my body.
It was almost as good as an orgasm.
He walked me home.
Like right to the front door, as if we’d just been to the prom.
“This is very gentlemanly of you.” I gave him a kiss on the cheek.
He caught me in his arms, and my heart rate picked up again. “I like that you think I’m a gentleman.”
“I know you are.” I put my arms around his neck. “Don’t try to hide it. I know you make your bed.”
He grimaced. “A hard habit to break.”
“Don’t break it. It’s nice.”
He looked down at me. “Are you gonna get in trouble for coming home so late?”
“I don’t think so. Something tells me Grams had this whole thing in mind when she manipulated me into coming up here.”
“Manipulated you?”
“Let’s just say she faked a few old-lady problems to spark my concern, and talked a lot about the boy next door.”
“Boy?”
I giggled. “Yes. You weren’t what I pictured at all.”
“I guess that explains why she suddenly decided to let me paint her front porch this weekend.”
“Probably.” I felt a pang of regret, and confessed. “I’m leaving on Friday.”
Was it my imagination or did he pull back a little? His arms stayed around my waist, but I felt his body tense up.
“It’s just as well,” he said, letting go of me.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, it doesn’t really matter when you leave.” He shoved his hands in his pockets.
“Well, what are you doing tomorrow?” I asked. “Can you maybe come over for dinner?”
“Nah, I don’t think so.” He looked toward the street, frowning.
“Why not?”
“I’ve got a work thing.”
I hesitated, but ultimately decided to speak up. “I don’t believe you.”
He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
“Ryan, come on. Can’t I see you again before I go?”
“Look, I don’t date, okay? This was fun tonight, and I hope you had a good time, but let’s not make too much out of it.”
I was stunned into silence. Crickets chirped.
“You should go in,” he said. Every trace of the lighthearted man I’d been with for the last couple hours was gone. It was like the curtain had gone up and he’d become someone else.
“Okay …” Still reeling, I opened the front door, hoping he’d stop me.
But he didn’t.
He took off down the steps, jogging across the lawn toward his house, as if he couldn’t wait to get away from me.
Despite all that had happened between us, I felt I didn’t know him after all.
Fifteen
Ryan
You fucking idiot.
Now look what you did.
I went back home, let myself in the back door, couldn’t even bring myself to glance at the counter where I’d had my face buried between her legs as I passed through. God, she’d tasted like heaven on earth. And her skin was like satin against mine. Losing myself inside her had been the most intense physical pleasure I’d felt in a lifetime. For those few minutes, I was able to forget everything else.
In my room, I tossed my clothes on the floor and threw myself down on my stupid mattress, hands behind my head as I frowned at the cracked plaster in the ceiling.
I’d hurt and confused her again, and I hated myself for it. For those couple hours it had been so nice to pretend it was just us that existed, tucked away in a dark room, finding a safe place in the world and in one another. I’d forgotten how good it could feel to be honest with someone that way. To be real.
And I’d forgotten it couldn’t last.
When she mentioned leaving on Friday, it was like realizing the plane was about to crash and I’d better jump the fuck out. So I had.
I should have just stayed away from her like I planned.
I was furious with myself for being so weak, furious with Mack for telling me I needed to get laid, and I even managed to place some blame on Stella for coming outside in her pajamas with her hair all pillow-messed and her skin smelling so sweet. She was an irresistible siren and she knew it, luring me in with her seductive voice and wide eyes and that uncanny ability to see inside my soul.
Above all, you value your honor. Your word.
Christ, how did she know that kind of shit?
I bet she was really fucking good at her job. I bet she was really fucking good at everything.
My phone buzzed on the floor next to me, and I picked it up. Bones had sent another photograph of a few guys in our squad, including himself, Mack, me, and Kopecki, an awesome guy from outside Chicago we’d lost to an IED blast somewhere in southern Afghanistan. Two words accompanied the pic.
Remember Kopecki?
Of course I did. I remembered his obnoxious laugh—and the guy laughed at fucking anything—and I remembered he spoke Polish to his grandmother. I remembered him telling me this story about some gymnast he dated that somehow sucked his dick while she was upside down, and he swore to God he was going to go home and propose to her.
And I remembered the blast that took his life. He never had a chance.
Bones and Kopecki had been tight.
Sure I do, I texted back to Bones. He was a great guy.
Bones replied right away. I miss him. I miss everybody.
I know, I typed. It was a lame way to reply, but I had no wisdom to offer Bones. Missing people was the fucking worst. But there was nothing you could do about it, and the more you sat around remembering them, the worse it got. You had to shut that shit down.
That was why I couldn’t see Stella again. She had me feeling things that made me nervous, things that were more than physical. Connection. Understanding. Ease.
And if I wasn’t careful, I might start to feel other things too—things that had threatened to destroy me, things I’d worked so hard to escape. Guilt. Grief. Regret. The kind that could swallow you whole.
I couldn’t risk it. Not even for her.
Sixteen
Stella
The following morning, I took an early run, going in the opposite direction of Ryan’s house. I wasn’t sure I could handle seeing him yet.
I tried not to think about him as I ran, but it was impossible. Somehow every thought led back to him and what we’d done. What I’d been able to do.
For the first time, I’d been able to relax enough with another person to actually enjoy sex. Like, a lot. So much that I was kind of devastated that it didn’t appear Ryan was interested in doing it again. So had it not been as good for him? I didn’t want to draw that conclusion, but what other conclusion was there to draw? Why else would he have suddenly blown me off?
Immediately feelings of insecurity and self-loathing began to eat at me. I wasn’t hot. I wasn’t sensual. I wasn’t the kind of woman to make him want more.
Stop thinking about it.
I forced myself to focus on my form, my breathing, my pace. Anything but last night.
When I got back to Grams’s house, she was already up. The kitchen smelled like coffee and something sweet in the oven.
“Good morning, dear!” she chirped. “I’ve made us some nice dark roast and blueberry muffins.”
“Thanks,” I said, grabbing a glass from the cupboard and filling it with water. “I’m not hungry right this second, but I might eat something later.”
“Not hungry? How can that be? Didn’t you work up enough of an appetite last night?”
“Last night?” I faced her, noting the sly smile.
“Well, yes. Weren’t you with Mr. Woods last night? I imagine he’s pretty good in the feathers. The type to really make you sweat.” Her eyes danced over the rim of her coffee cup.
“Jesus, Grams. Enough.” I turned back to the sink and drank the water down.
“You mean you weren’t with Mr. Woods? Oh, pardon me, dear. My mistake.”
