Chapter 14 ~ Fools Like Me
The night is gray and cold and there isn’t a single flight out until the morning. Leaning my forehead against the floor to ceiling window, I find myself staring out at the mist and fog that’s blanketing the airport and comparing it the way my brain feels. No matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to make anything come out clear.
How did I get myself into this mess?
I always pride myself on being the one with the highest IQ in the room, of being able to look at a situation logically, analytically not reacting, not just acting out emotionally. I don’t just do things. My biggest impulse – ever – is shoes for crying out loud. I don’t just sleep with random men. I’ve always been too damn choosy.
Now, not only have I just slept with a guy I don’t know, but I’ve done it fucking twice.
I’ll be the first to admit that I have a history of fucking up when it comes to men. I either choose badly or I chase them away. Marc’s the first decent guy I’ve managed to hold on to long enough to almost make something with and now I’ve totally screwed myself out of that too.
With my eyes closed tightly, I try to imagine myself walking down the aisle towards him. Would I be happy? Would I feel content? Would he?
Does it matter?
Sighing, I shake my head. Of course it doesn’t matter. He won’t ever forgive me and I’m damn certain that I’ll probably never be able to forgive myself.
But that’s the pattern. I mean, this is the worst I’ve ever managed to completely fuck up, but it sort of goes along with the general pattern of my attempt at a relationship. Things are going along fine and then I figure some way of driving the guy away. I mean, usually it’s just fighting with them about something stupid and refusing to give in, to admit, even to myself, that I might only be doing it to prove that I’m better and smarter than they are.
And that is really just my way of trying not to let them see how insecure I really am. It’s just my way of protecting that little girl inside of me that desperately wants to be loved. The little girl whose parents didn’t know how to show affection, who never told their little girl that she was beautiful, never gushed about how accomplished she was, never told her that they were proud of her.
Which, my therapist tells me, is why I don’t feel worthy of love. Not even of like. So when I do face that emotional stuff, I push everyone away, even friends.
Like right now, I should be on the phone to Miki. I should be crying on the phone and telling her how stupid I am. She should be telling me that it will all be alright and that I’ll get over it and there’s plenty of fish in the sea. But I’m not because I know she’s in the bosom of her family, dogs and presents and grandparents and a big turkey dinner while I sit here in a cold airport terminal, all alone and I don’t really want to hear the whole happy families thing right now when I was so close to having it for myself. The Staals…all of them were so nice, and now they hate me.
I also just don’t want to hear anyone else tell me how stupid I’ve been. Maybe I don’t want hear her tell me that I’ve sunk my own ship, again.
Maybe later I’ll be able to tell her about it. Maybe she’ll forgive me for getting all wrapped up in my own shit and forgetting to even call her on Christmas day. She’ll probably even understand and everything will go back to normal, but I’ll know and I’ll feel bad about it and it will all come back eventually and we’ll fight about something else and this will come up….
I don’t do emotional. Emotional is scary. It’s alien.
Still, I knew Marc loved me and I hadn’t run away, at least not yet. I’d even been willing to talk to him about how I was having trouble connecting to him physically. I was willing to work on it because he was the best thing I’d ever had.
Like today, I can’t even remember a guy ever looking at me the way he did this morning when he was on his knee in front of me. He looked at me like…like I was the best thing in the entire world, like I was amazing, like I was beautiful and wonderful and he was happy and I ruined it all. I broke his heart.
Maybe I even broke my own.
I should just become a nun, except I’d probably be struck down dead if I went in a church right now. God would be like ‘are you fucking kidding me?’ and shoot a bolt of lightening right down on me head and turn me into a skid mark on the floor.
“Well I’m glad you can smile about something.”
I’m ready to give the finger to yet another smart ass security guard with their observations about a pretty girl like me all alone on a Christmas day, but the words freeze on the tip of my tongue when I look up into ice blue eyes that look as tired and worn out as I feel.
“What are you doing here?”
It had been easy to leave the house without being noticed. After all, I was the worst son in the world right now and a complete pariah with my brothers. Not that I blame any of them. I know what it must look like to them. I hope that later, maybe not tomorrow but sometime, they'll all be able to see it from my point of view. Maybe later, but for now, no one cared if I left in my dad’s old beat up Ford pick up and headed out into a sub zero wind chill and blowing snow.
Besides, it was partly my fault she was all alone at the airport. I could understand why Eric just dumped her at the curb like a bag of trash but I couldn’t let her sit there all by herself. No one in my family might think so right now, but I do have morals and feelings and besides that I’m not a complete jackass.
And I want to see her. Despite everything, I still want to make her see that we have something or at least we could have something.
So that’s why I dare the black ice and, having left without my iPod, I’m forced to listen to some static laced crap am station, knowing that there’s every chance of my getting there and having her tell me to fuck off. That’s the main thing on my mind as I turn the big rusty old heap into the empty parking lot. Will she tell me to beat it before I even get the chance to ask her what has me trudging through the snow and slipping and sliding across the sidewalk?
At least I’ll have a captive audience, I muse as the automatic doors slide open in front of me with a low ‘whooshing’ sound, followed closely by a flood of very welcome warm air. The heater in the old truck works, but not that well.
She’s not that hard to find. Other than a janitor or two, the place is deserted. She’s sitting along a row of seats staring out at the snow drifting across the abandoned runways with this strange blend of emotions on her face. From anger to sadness and finally a bemused little smile and that’s the look that suits her best of all.
“Well I’m glad you can smile at something,” I say, standing at the end of the row as she blinks up at me and I’m glad she doesn’t immediately throw something at me, which is a start. She doesn’t even look disappointed, like maybe she was hoping it would be mark standing in front of her and not me.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, immediately hiding a yawn behind her hand.
“Well I wasn’t exactly welcome at home, as you could probably guess,” I explain, which actually makes her almost laugh, but she bites down on the full bottom lip of hers, the one that I can still see my own bite mark on. How Marc missed that…, “and I know there are no flights out so…,” I dangle the hotel room key from my hand and shrug by way of a continued explanation. That’s when her eyes get dark and dangerous looking. “Look, no…expectations, but you have to admit…this isn’t exactly private,” I point out as a nosy security guard walks by, keeping a close eye on her I’d guess, “and it’s not like either of us are going anywhere tonight.”At this she at least shrugs and then nods, which I take as I agreement and move to pick up her bag. “By the way…I’m sorry we…I mean I ruined your Christmas.”
“It wasn’t just you,” she begins, putting her hand over mine and looking up at me with tired, sad eyes. “But thanks for saying it anyway.”
With neither of us having said much in the few miles it takes to get to the nearest budget motel, I’m almost beginning to wonder if he’s actually telling me the truth, that he’s not expecting anything and for some reason I can’t decide, even when I open the door and see twin beds, if I’m happy about it or not.
I should be, I tell myself as he puts my bag down on one bed and then goes to sit on the other, immediately picking up the remote from the top of the small television and turning it on. On the other hand, I start to dread the conversation I know will naturally follow if we don’t just have sex.
I’ve given it some thought, of course, in the couple of hours I spent in the airport. I might be emotionally crippled but I’m not entirely heartless. The man said he loved me. Not quite in the same romantic and sweet way his brother had declared his undying affection for me, but he had said it all the same and I can’t ignore it.
“I won’t move to Pittsburgh, before you ask,” I begin, tugging off my furry black Uggs and unzipping my ski jacket. “I like my job. It’s a really good firm and I have an office in Manhattan. I’d have to be out of my mind to give all that up. Besides I don’t even know you,” I add, just to put a cherry on the top of my refusal. I hear a sort of piggy snorting sound and look across at Jordan to find him smiling at the TV.
“You’re pretty sure of yourself,” he laughs, flipping through the channels at warp speed before leaving it on Much Music and turning back to me. “Look I’m not like Eric and Marc. I’m not looking to get hooked up permanently, so don’t go getting any ideas about rocks like the one my brother was offering, okay?”
“Good, right,” I smile, and then force myself to look away from the amused look on his handsome features. The boy sure knows how to make me feel about two feet tall. “I’m glad we cleared that up,” I add, reaching for a pillow and pulling it onto my lap. Right about now I feel like I need to be held or that I could do with a big fucking hole to open up and suck me away into some parallel universe where I’m not such a fucking idiot.
“That doesn’t mean we can’t…you know…date or whatever,” he adds, actually managing to wipe all of the sarcasm out of his voice and actually sound modest, even a little shy. Forcing myself to look back up at him, that confident, even cocky, young man is gone, replaced by someone who reminds me more of his brother. Shrugging, he continues, “I mean, we play in New York like…a lot, between Jersey, the Islanders and Buffalo…and I guess I could come up sometimes when we have a day or two.” I find myself smiling back at him, feeling almost as shy and awkward as he seems to be feeling, which is a pretty new feeling altogether.
“You don’t think you might actually get disowned for that?” I offer, unable to keep the smile off of my face or the thought of all of his brothers ganging up on him and beating him into an unrecognizable mountain of meat.
“Yeah, probably, but…they might get over it. I mean, they probably will. Bros before ho’s right?” Shaking my head I can’t stop myself from laughing.
“You did not just say that,” I snort, tossing the pillow across the room at him. “Who the hell are you calling a whore?”
“I meant blood’s thicker than water,” he laughs, holding his hands up defensively when I reach for another pillow to toss at him. “What? It’s true, we’re brothers. Hey, stop throwing shit,” he laughs, tossing one of the pillows back and then picking up one of his own and standing up on the bed in a defensive stance, swinging the pillow in front of him like a bat.
“Oh you are so going to get it for calling me a whore,” I threaten, grabbing two pillows and scrambling up onto the bed and wind milling my arms. “I am lethal with this shit, you’d better bring you’re A game Jordy boy.”
“Oh I can out reach you any day of the week. Any day of the week,” he laughs, using his long arms to reach across the space to tag my leg, hard, nearly sending me off balance.
“Oh, so you want to play huh? It is on like Donkey Kong bitch!”
And with that, the feathers flew until our arms were too tired to wield our weapons, or at least mine were. His had long since exploded and left the beds and floor covered with polyester fill.
“Feel better?” Jordan asks, lying on his back, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tries to catch his breath, and because he’s laughing.
“I do, yeah,” I admit, unable to stop myself from grinning.
“Good,” he sighs at last, closing his eyes. “Because I’m fucking tired and I don’t know about you, but I could use some sleep.” He turns to me, his blue gaze searching mine and I nod, but there’s something in my stomach and an idea that keeps coming back into my head, no matter how hard I try to dislodge it.
“Can I…I mean, don’t get the wrong idea,” I begin, feeling my entire face flush as I stammer and stutter my way through the explanation, “but uh…can I…would you…you know just for like warmth or comfort or whatever?” I look up at him and am relieved to see him looking back at me with a serious look. I’m even more relieved when he nods and gets up off of the bed.
“I’ll even sleep above the covers,” he offers, as I tug off my sweater and wiggle out of my skirt before sliding underneath the sheets and pulling the one remaining intact pillow under my head. “I’ll just go and see if they’ll give us some more pillows. I’ll be right back.”
I don’t even remember the door closing behind him. As soon as my head hits the pillow, I’m out. After all, it’s been a fucking long day.
I wake up with the feeling of fingertips dancing across my stomach. At first I’m pretty sure I’m dreaming, after all, I’ve dreamed of her often enough. Just because I’m sleeping in the same bed as her doesn’t mean I can’t dream of her too. But then the hands go north, rather than south, and let’s face it, I’m a guy, I’d always choose south. I open my eyes and look down at her hands sliding slowly up my chest until her thumbs are making slow, almost painful circles around my nipples.
Her eyes are intently following her hands but when I can’t hold back a groan any longer, her gaze snaps upwards to meet mine. Without waiting or an explanation, without even pausing to ask her what she thinks she’s doing, I wrap my hand around her wrist and push her hand down, moaning when she makes her fingernails dig into my skin.
The moan quickly turns into a soundless gasp for air as her fingers close around my dick and her other hand joins the party, stroking my nuts gently until I can barely breathe. I feel her lips close around one of my nipples and it’s almost like I have to hold onto her hair, like if I don’t I’ll just explode into a million pieces.
Just when I’m sure I won’t be able to hold back any longer she lets go and slides her hands beneath the elastic waistband of my boxers and pulls them down, and then does the same with her own little bikini style panties, tossing them both onto the floor. She opens her pretty mouth then, like she’s finally going to say something, but then seems to think better of it, and straddles me silently instead and then slowly lowers herself over me until our hips come into contact and my dick is entirely sheathed inside of her.
Reaching forward, she takes my two hands and guides them up to her chest, pressing them into the edges of the lace until I get the idea. Scooping her full breasts out, I begin the same torturous circles with my own thumbs until her eyes flutter closed and she tilts her head back and lets out a strangled sort of cry. We begin to move then, a slow rolling rhythm, as if by some mutual agreement neither of us wants this to end too soon.
Even in the full dark, I can’t help but admire her pale, ivory skin and the way it almost glows as she moves over me, her long dark mane falling down her back, its’ tendrils reaching around to brush my arms as she rides me. I push up into her, just to watch her lovely lips fall open as she gasps when I find that spot inside of her. Squeezing her nipples between my thumb and forefinger, twisting them, I am rewarded by her biting down on that full bottom lip of hers.
All these little things I know, have learned, I use to bring her closer to the edge, to take my mind of the slick heat sucking at my cock. For just a moment, when she leans against my hands, letting her hair waterfall around us, I can’t help but wonder if my brother ever made her dark eyes gleam like that, if he ever saw that feral sort of grin she gets when she’s close to cumming.
“Faster,” she breathes, but I shake my head. I don’t want her to cum, not yet, and not without me.
Sliding my hands down to her tiny waist, I roll her over until she’s pinned beneath me. Now I have the upper hand and she knows it as she struggles to press herself up against me. The little whimpers and the way she struggles to pull me deeper inside of her tells me that she’s close, that she wants to finish and maybe, just maybe, she doesn’t care if I do or not. But I know her body. I know how to bring her and make her beg for more.
With one last hard thrust inside of her, just to remind her of what she’s craving, I pull out entirely and slide down her body until I’m between her thighs, until her knees are draping over my shoulders and I can pull her to the edge of the mattress and kneel on the floor in worship.
It’s her turn to dig her fingers deep in my hair as I taste the juices flowing from her and then she lets out a long high pitched cry as I delve inside of her with my tongue. Her thighs begin to quiver as I sweep upwards with my tongue, finding that hard, swollen little button that makes her squirm and her hips to leave the mattress as I nibble and flick my tongue against it.
With just the right mixture of teeth and tongue, I feel her juices flood my mouth and drip from my chin, but I’m not nearly done yet. I have her at my mercy and if she’s going to go back to New York alone then she’s going to go back with my mark everywhere on her pale skin and the memory of my name spelled out against her clit.
Her back arches as I reach the second ‘a’ in my last name and it’s my name she cries out as her body shudders and quakes, and only then do scramble to my feet, digging my fingers into the soft flesh of her hips as I shove my way back inside the now almost unbearable heat of her cunt. With her hips entirely off of the bed, I can thrust deep inside of her and rub against her g-spot at the same time, the head of my cock finding that spot that won’t let me go any further but makes her whimper loudly, makes her shake her head from side to side, sending her long dark hair fanning out over the white bed linens like a dark halo.
“Tell me again,” I hiss, having to clench my teeth in an effort to hold back from exploding inside of her. “Tell me how good it is. Tell me I’m better than him.”
“No,” she whimpers, shutting her eyes tight and turning her face from me, grabbing a handful of sheet in each hand and clenching her own teeth. Thrusting hard enough so that our bodies meet with a wet slapping sound, I ask her again.
“Tell me. Tell me I’m the best.” Little lights are beginning to flash in front of my eyes and I’m sure I won’t last more than another minute. I only have one last weapon in my arsenal, and that is to pull out altogether, which makes her cry out in frustration, her dark eyes popping open and her full lips pursing. “Tell me Tippi. Tell me I’m the only one that does it for you.”
She looks up at me, defiant, sweat slicked, angry and very beautiful. Letting her back down onto the bed, I slide just the head of my cock inside of her and raise my eyebrow as if to say ‘I’m waiting, you can have more when you tell me’. At first I think she’s just going to continue to maintain her silence, but then her bottom lip quivers and she reaches up and brushes her fingertips along the line of my jaw.
“You already know it. Just shut up and fuck me Jordan,” she says, grinning suddenly as her hand drops and her fingers give one of my nipples a hard twist, sending a shooting pain through my body that’s offset only by her body swallowing mine, her fingers leading my cock home.
Not for the first time, I leave the scene of the crime with my boots in hand, sneaking out to the parking lot where a cab is idling, sending clouds of exhaust into the dark air of the early morning hours. I hand the cabbie my bag and slip into the back seat, sparing the closed hotel door one long, last look, imagining the blonde haired boy lying spent across the bed inside.
My body aches in that good kind of way and I don’t feel quite as horrible as I did the last time I headed towards the airport. In fact, I have this secret sort of Mona Lisa grin on my face that I can’t quite get rid of. There’s definitely something to be said for the energy and inexhaustibility of a twenty one year old. That, and I’ve left him with yet another disaster to pay for and I can’t help but think he might feel the need to punish me for that the next time we meet, and that makes me smile.
“Did you have a good Christmas visit?” the cabbie asks as he turns the nose of the cab out onto the street. With a barely stifled yawn I shrug my shoulders.
“I’ve had better, but I guess it turned out okay.” The cabbie looks at me quizzically in the rear view mirror and I just smile back at him. It’s not like I can explain it to anyone.
Well, maybe Miki I think, pulling out my cell phone and turning it on, plugging in a short text.
Hey Mik, u awake? U r so not going to believe this….