Preppy: The Life & Death of Samuel Clearwater, Part Two
Page 34
“As your husband on record, don’t I have to sign off on the sale?” I asked.
Doc straightened her spine, “Wait, what?”
“Even if it’s on a technicality we’re married, right? The house would be considered our marital property, therefore I’d have to sign off on the sale regardless of who’s name the house is in.”
“Fuck,” Dre mouthed when she realized I was right. It was adorable when she swore.
“Sounds good. Maybe later. Right now I’m just looking for you to say, ‘yes, Preppy, I’d love for you to come and stay with me for a while.’”
“So...you’re blackmailing me?” Doc asked.
I smiled. “Abso-fucking-lutley.”
DRE
“That’s the kid you’re fucking?” Preppy asked, pointing to the screen saver on my phone. It was a picture of me and Brandon at my college graduation. I graduated in three years and had a big smile on my face. Brandon was holding up my diploma like it was a trophy.
For me, it kind of was.
“Excuse me?” I snatched my phone from his hand and pushing it into my back pocket. “He’s not a kid,” I argued.
“Oh yeah? Could have fooled me. He looks like Zach Effron or a backstreet boy circa 1997. I mean, come on, Doc, he doesn’t even have any facial hair. I bet he hasn’t sprouted any pubes yet either, looks a little too young for that. What kind of man doesn’t have any fucking facial hair?”
I glared at the short beard on his face.
“I mean what kind of man normally doesn’t have facial hair. My beardlessness was due to special circumstances.”
“Such as?”
“Such as shit I don’t want to fucking talk about,” Preppy said. He then started to whistle as he opened the back slider and stepped out onto the deck.
“See, I told you this wasn’t a good idea,” Ray said walking in the door and setting down a garbage bag of what I assumed was Preppy’s stuff onto the floor. “He won’t talk to any of us. He won’t tell us anything. Insists that everything’s okay when people hauled in to the hospital for attempted suicides are not okay.”
“I can hear you,” Preppy said, coming back inside and grabbing the bag off the floor. “Thanks, kid.”
“So what were you two arguing about?” Ray asked.
“Doc’s fiancé Where is he by the way?”
“You mean, Brandon?” Ray asked.
“He means Brandon,” I said with a smile. “And Brandon had to go home.”
“Oh yeah? And why is that?” Preppy asked.
“Because, he missed his boyfriend,” I said casually.
“Oh, okay, because his...wait. What?” Preppy asked.
Ray snorted. “Preppy, Brandon’s gay.” We both broke out into a fit of laughter while Preppy looked at us like we’d lost our damn minds.
“Hold the fucking phone. Brandon’s gay?” Preppy asked like he hadn’t heard it right the first time.
He leaned onto the counter on his elbows. “Fuck, I lost my hair, a portion of my fucking gut...and my gaydar?”
“Seems so,” Ray said, planting a kiss on Preppy’s cheek. She may not have noticed him flinch but I did. “I’ll check up on you kids. Behave yourselves,” she sang as she closed the front door behind her.
“Don’t feel too bad. I missed the signs too when I first met him.” I laughed at the memory. “I actually thought he was asking me out when I first met him until we actually went out and his boyfriend met us after the movie.” I tried to ignore the thickness of the air around us. I tucked it away in the linen closet, trying to pretend like his every word didn’t make me feel something I didn’t want to feel. Relief. Lust. LOVE. “So back to your earlier question. The kind of man who likes a clean look. That’s who doesn’t have facial hair.”
“Oh yeah?” he asked, taking a step forward, crowding me in, staring down into my eyes with an intensity that had me biting down hard on my lower lip. “Do YOU like a clean look, Doc? Or do you like it dirty. Beards. Tattoos...scars.”
Yes, I like it dirty. So dirty.
I was stunned into silence. His proximity was fucking with my brain and I was afraid that at any second I was going to blurt out something that would dig me a deeper hole than I’d already dug for myself. I opened my mouth to answer, but I couldn’t get the words out. Not like I needed to. Preppy answered for me. “If I remember correctly, you like it dirty. Real fucking dirty.”
He took another step toward me. “Remember that first time? In the field? By the train tracks? Remember how I pulled your hair while I fucked you from behind and stretched you open? Remember how it felt to have me moving inside of you? How it felt when you came and screamed in my fucking ear? I do. I remember. Thought of that scream every fucking day since. It was deafening.” He chuckled and pressed his teeth against his bottom lip. He groaned, the sound shooting straight to my pussy. “I can still fucking hear it now.”
So can I.
The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. “What are you doing?” I asked, trying to step out from under him, but he moved his arms and pressed his hands against the wall, caging me in. The warmth of his chest radiated onto mine and I tried to look anywhere but into his eyes, afraid of what I might see but there wasn’t anywhere else to look. Especially when his face moved closer to mine.
He pressed his knee between my thighs, parting my legs. “Me?” he asked, with mock innocence. “I’m just reminiscing with an old friend.”
“This doesn’t feel like just reminiscing,” I panted.
He stared deeply into my eyes. “No, not YET it doesn’t.” He grinned. “But it fucking will. Soon.”
“I...I can’t,” I stammered. I pulled my face from his hand but he turned me back by my chin.
“Oh Doc, you remember how much I love it when you tell me no.” He lowered himself until his lips were a hair away from mine. My nipples peaked at the anticipation of feeling his lips against mine.
Maybe, just this once. I lied to myself. One more time just to remember how he felt when we...
A car door slammed in the driveway, throwing a bucket of cold water on the sizzling heat between us.
Preppy looked up and I jumped under his arm and away from him, again busying myself with folding towels. I cleared my throat and adjusted my shirt, trying to hide my hardened nipples underneath my thin tank top. “That would be the realtor,” I said, as casually as possible.
Doc straightened her spine, “Wait, what?”
“Even if it’s on a technicality we’re married, right? The house would be considered our marital property, therefore I’d have to sign off on the sale regardless of who’s name the house is in.”
“Fuck,” Dre mouthed when she realized I was right. It was adorable when she swore.
“Sounds good. Maybe later. Right now I’m just looking for you to say, ‘yes, Preppy, I’d love for you to come and stay with me for a while.’”
“So...you’re blackmailing me?” Doc asked.
I smiled. “Abso-fucking-lutley.”
DRE
“That’s the kid you’re fucking?” Preppy asked, pointing to the screen saver on my phone. It was a picture of me and Brandon at my college graduation. I graduated in three years and had a big smile on my face. Brandon was holding up my diploma like it was a trophy.
For me, it kind of was.
“Excuse me?” I snatched my phone from his hand and pushing it into my back pocket. “He’s not a kid,” I argued.
“Oh yeah? Could have fooled me. He looks like Zach Effron or a backstreet boy circa 1997. I mean, come on, Doc, he doesn’t even have any facial hair. I bet he hasn’t sprouted any pubes yet either, looks a little too young for that. What kind of man doesn’t have any fucking facial hair?”
I glared at the short beard on his face.
“I mean what kind of man normally doesn’t have facial hair. My beardlessness was due to special circumstances.”
“Such as?”
“Such as shit I don’t want to fucking talk about,” Preppy said. He then started to whistle as he opened the back slider and stepped out onto the deck.
“See, I told you this wasn’t a good idea,” Ray said walking in the door and setting down a garbage bag of what I assumed was Preppy’s stuff onto the floor. “He won’t talk to any of us. He won’t tell us anything. Insists that everything’s okay when people hauled in to the hospital for attempted suicides are not okay.”
“I can hear you,” Preppy said, coming back inside and grabbing the bag off the floor. “Thanks, kid.”
“So what were you two arguing about?” Ray asked.
“Doc’s fiancé Where is he by the way?”
“You mean, Brandon?” Ray asked.
“He means Brandon,” I said with a smile. “And Brandon had to go home.”
“Oh yeah? And why is that?” Preppy asked.
“Because, he missed his boyfriend,” I said casually.
“Oh, okay, because his...wait. What?” Preppy asked.
Ray snorted. “Preppy, Brandon’s gay.” We both broke out into a fit of laughter while Preppy looked at us like we’d lost our damn minds.
“Hold the fucking phone. Brandon’s gay?” Preppy asked like he hadn’t heard it right the first time.
He leaned onto the counter on his elbows. “Fuck, I lost my hair, a portion of my fucking gut...and my gaydar?”
“Seems so,” Ray said, planting a kiss on Preppy’s cheek. She may not have noticed him flinch but I did. “I’ll check up on you kids. Behave yourselves,” she sang as she closed the front door behind her.
“Don’t feel too bad. I missed the signs too when I first met him.” I laughed at the memory. “I actually thought he was asking me out when I first met him until we actually went out and his boyfriend met us after the movie.” I tried to ignore the thickness of the air around us. I tucked it away in the linen closet, trying to pretend like his every word didn’t make me feel something I didn’t want to feel. Relief. Lust. LOVE. “So back to your earlier question. The kind of man who likes a clean look. That’s who doesn’t have facial hair.”
“Oh yeah?” he asked, taking a step forward, crowding me in, staring down into my eyes with an intensity that had me biting down hard on my lower lip. “Do YOU like a clean look, Doc? Or do you like it dirty. Beards. Tattoos...scars.”
Yes, I like it dirty. So dirty.
I was stunned into silence. His proximity was fucking with my brain and I was afraid that at any second I was going to blurt out something that would dig me a deeper hole than I’d already dug for myself. I opened my mouth to answer, but I couldn’t get the words out. Not like I needed to. Preppy answered for me. “If I remember correctly, you like it dirty. Real fucking dirty.”
He took another step toward me. “Remember that first time? In the field? By the train tracks? Remember how I pulled your hair while I fucked you from behind and stretched you open? Remember how it felt to have me moving inside of you? How it felt when you came and screamed in my fucking ear? I do. I remember. Thought of that scream every fucking day since. It was deafening.” He chuckled and pressed his teeth against his bottom lip. He groaned, the sound shooting straight to my pussy. “I can still fucking hear it now.”
So can I.
The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. “What are you doing?” I asked, trying to step out from under him, but he moved his arms and pressed his hands against the wall, caging me in. The warmth of his chest radiated onto mine and I tried to look anywhere but into his eyes, afraid of what I might see but there wasn’t anywhere else to look. Especially when his face moved closer to mine.
He pressed his knee between my thighs, parting my legs. “Me?” he asked, with mock innocence. “I’m just reminiscing with an old friend.”
“This doesn’t feel like just reminiscing,” I panted.
He stared deeply into my eyes. “No, not YET it doesn’t.” He grinned. “But it fucking will. Soon.”
“I...I can’t,” I stammered. I pulled my face from his hand but he turned me back by my chin.
“Oh Doc, you remember how much I love it when you tell me no.” He lowered himself until his lips were a hair away from mine. My nipples peaked at the anticipation of feeling his lips against mine.
Maybe, just this once. I lied to myself. One more time just to remember how he felt when we...
A car door slammed in the driveway, throwing a bucket of cold water on the sizzling heat between us.
Preppy looked up and I jumped under his arm and away from him, again busying myself with folding towels. I cleared my throat and adjusted my shirt, trying to hide my hardened nipples underneath my thin tank top. “That would be the realtor,” I said, as casually as possible.
