54: Puppy Love

Belinda

     "Yes, she's free. I'll lead you back," I hear Lynne say to a customer.
     "I'm right here," I tell her just before she nearly runs into me. I see Julian Strong walking behind her. She tells me he's here for a massage, and I lead him back.
      After he gets changed into a towel, I can see the healing bruises on him, and it just breaks my heart.
      "Are you sure about this?" I ask. "I feel concerned I might hurt you with those bruises."
    "I've had worse," he says like they're no big deal. "Besides, I'm not looking for anything deep tissue or something like that. I have this spot," he says and tries to show me only to wind up turning around in a circle like a puppy chasing its tail. "Well, it's there somewhere, that bugs the hell out of me. I must have a pinched nerve or something." He gives me a 'please don't think I'm nuts' look.
    I smile to reassure him. Then I gesture to the table and say, "Let's see if I can fix it."
    I get to working, gently, on his back, and I quickly find the pinched spot. He has quite a knot, and I recommend he go to a chiropractor. He complains that he'd just wind up getting addicted to getting adjustments and he'd never be the same.
    "You could say the same about my job," I chuckle.

    "Well, if I'm going to choose one, this is the better choice," he mumbles before he's quiet again. I just shake my head and smile, knowing I can't convince him any more if he doesn't want to go see one.
    I find another spot, like the first one's other half, and work that one. He lets out a groan that says he really appreciates me finding that.
    "Belinda, you really do have the most wonderful hands," he mumbles into the table. Then he's quiet for a long time while I work his back and his legs. I start to wonder if he's fallen asleep. That's not an uncommon occurrence.
     I finish his massage with him sleeping the entire time. "Mr. Strong?" I ask quietly, hating to wake him up but needing him to wake up all the same. I have to lightly shake his shoulders to get him to wake up.
     "Hm?" he asks in a bleary voice and opens one eye. "Oh." He pushes up on his elbows. "Oh, I'm sorry. I guess I didn't realize how tired I was."
     I smile reassuringly while he sits up and scoots off the table. When he does, I see he's popped a tent under his towel. Again, this isn't terribly uncommon.
     "Oh dear God, I'm so sorry," he says like he's really embarrassed.
     "It's fine," I say, trying to get him to stop feeling embarrassed.
     "It's not. I'll just go."
     "Mr. Strong - "
     He interrupts me. "Thank you for working out that kink, but I really need to leave now." With that, he heads towards the showers, his hands covering himself.
     I sigh and start working on cleaning up the table.

     Later, Lynne comes up to me. "What happened with Julian? He all but flew out of here."
     I shrug and say, "He enjoyed it more than he expected." I know she knows what I mean.
     "Oh," she responds and smiles a small, knowing smile. "You and your magic hands."
     "I prefer skilled. You're the one with the magic," I tease.
     She sighs, obviously thinking of something not-so-funny. "Yes," she agrees.

Jesse

     She's not at the bar. Bryce isn't sure where she is, and he looked like he was curious, even though he'd never ask me unless I volunteer the info or look like I'm waiting to be asked, what was going on.
      I go and knock on her door. There's no answer. I actually peek into the window, and I don't see any lights on.
      Where is she?

      I try the gym. She's not there either.
      I drive around aimlessly after that, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. There are way too damn many blonde tourists about her height and build. Normally, I'd revel in this fact but not today.
     I park Martha at a public beach parking lot.
     When I get out of the car, I go ahead and take my shirt off since I'm headed to the beach anyway. I remember Marie once saying she wanted to work on her tan, so I decide to start here and work my way around the island to her apartment building, cursing myself for not checking the beach behind her building first.
    I get stopped a few times by some really cute chicks, but I have to politely refuse their offer to party. I'm a man on a mission.
     I'm insane. That brunette needed to be spanked.
     I sigh and shake my head to clear the crazed thoughts running through it.

     I walk a little further to a more empty space when I see a lone figure sitting cross-legged a little bit ahead of me in a shaded area. Blonde. Tanned to a darker bronze.
      Marie. I found her.
     I tread up to her as silently as I can. She looks to be in a deep meditation, and she doesn't show any outward sign that she notices me... not even when I sit down right in front of her.

      She's really out of it. Or... into it.
      A smile slowly covers my face as I sit and stare at her. She looks so peaceful that she could be asleep. It occurs to me that I've never seen her like this. Most of the time, she scowls at me. Occasionally, I've made her laugh, but I've never seen her this relaxed. It's nice, and I sigh happily.
     Her eyes open slowly and she, also slowly, realizes I'm sitting here staring at her. Then her eyes widen, and she scoots herself backwards as quick as lightning, kicking up a little bit of sand as she does.

     A jumble of French pours out of her mouth so fast that I can't catch even an eighth of before she switches.
     "What are you doing here?" she asks harshly.
     "Looking for you," I answer truthfully and watching closely for her reaction. I'm a little sad my happy sigh destroyed the peaceful moment.
       "How did you find me here? How long were you sitting there? What do you want?!"
      I take a deep breath and try to answer her questions one at a time. "I found you by taking a walk because everywhere else I tried didn't pan out. I remembered you once said that you wanted to go to the beach, and it was the next guess I had. I haven't been here but a few minutes, and I want to talk to you." She starts acting like she wants to get up and leave, so I place a calming hand on her knee which she frantically bats away. Oops, I think, realizing that it probably wasn't calming like I wanted. I then very visibly withdraw my hand and put it back on my own knee. "Please don't get up and leave. I want to apologize for last night."
     "I don't want to talk about last night, last Wednesday night, Friday night, Monday night or anything," she snaps.
      I feel a little confused as to what she could mean by Friday and Monday since I have no idea why she would be mad at me for those, but I refrain from asking since it looks like it would just start a fight. Monday...
     "And I want to apologize for not showing up Monday morning. I gathered from your message that you didn't cancel the lesson like I thought you did when you stormed out of my house." Her lips harden into a line like she's working on hiding something. Shit, I hurt her by that. "I'm sorry, Marie. I mean, what was I to think? You never texted me back or anything. I thought you'd decided against it."
     "You could have at least called and asked me if I'd cancelled it," she says angrily.
     "And have you bite my head off or worse... ignore me again? No thank you," I tell her sharply.
     She gets up and dusts the sand off her butt and legs. Then she starts walking down the beach.

      "Where are you going?" I ask as I hop up to follow her.
      "Home," she answers simply and keeps walking.
      "Are you not going to accept my apology?"
      "Fine. I accept your apology," she says exasperatedly.
      "You do? You sure don't sound like you do," I say once I've caught up to her very fast walking pace.

      She surprises me when she suddenly stops and rounds on me. "What do you want from me, Jesse?"
      Even though I know what I want from her, the question takes me by surprise. I'm not sure what answer she wants or what she's really asking. "What do you mean?" I ask back. She's asked me that frequently enough, so I feel fine asking her to clarify.
     "I'm not going to sleep with you. I don't want to date anyone. You failed to show up for your simfu lesson. Right now, you're not even making a very good friend," she snaps before she turns and walks off again.
     Not ever? I think, still somewhat stuck on her first and second statement. No, she's just saying that to get me to leave her alone.
     I stop walking. "So, you want me to leave you alone." I state my question, and she stops walking also.
     She stands perfectly still, looking down at the sand. "I didn't think you actually would."
    That wasn't a 'yes,' I think with a small amount of hope. "I tried," I tell her and walk up to her until I'm standing at her shoulder. I'm afraid to touch her for fear of freaking her out. "I really tried to leave you alone, and it was killing me. So, since I'm off today, I decided to get drunk last night, and I couldn't stop myself from calling you." I figure I may as well talk about the phone call now. "I'm sorry for being drunk the first time I told you I love you."
     She turns to me with a desperate expression on her face before she reprimands me. "Jesse, please! Listen to yourself! You don't know me. How can you say that?"
      I interject, "Because I know what I feel."
      "Don't say that to me!" she continues.
      "Let me guess -- because you can't 'handle' it," I say in a somewhat sad/somewhat angry voice.
      "You're damn right!"
      It's almost everything I can do to keep myself from kissing her. My first response to something like this would normally be that... 'stop the arguing by changing the mood.' If I kissed her, maybe she'd believe me when I tell her I love her.
      "All right. If you don't want me to say it, then I won't say it. It's still true though," I say, and I'm sure to lock my eyes with hers.
     "You haven't even known me for two weeks! How can you say that?"
     "Two weeks, six months, five years, it doesn't matter. When you know, you know," I answer her, knowing I'm probably pushing too hard, but I will not let her try to convince me that I don't love her. One of the things I love about her is that she's a fighter. I wish she wasn't fighting me, though.

     "Jesse!" I hear squealed behind me. "Sarah was right! It is you!"
     My eyes still rest on Marie as she looks at the sand at our feet. I can't read her expression.
     A woman's arms wrap around my neck from behind me as she pulls me down to her and kisses me on the cheek while she walks around me. I look at Marie looking at her before I look for myself to see who it is. I feel terrible I can't place her.
     She laughs at my slightly-bewildered expression and says, "It's been a few years. Amber."
     "Oh. Um, hi, Amber," I manage to get out.
     Marie walks off in the direction of her apartment.
     "Marie, wait!" I say with Amber's arms still around me. Marie keeps walking.
     "Oh, did I interrupt something?" Amber asks facetiously like she knew exactly what she was doing.

      I try to unwrap her arms as I say, "Nice to see you again, Amber, but yes, you're interrupting something." I hazard a glance down at her mildly-peeved expression. Yes, about three years ago. She was one of mine and Bryce's 'volunteers' for the timed competition.
       I'd better warn Bryce.
       But first, I have to catch Marie.... who is now running away!
     Amber's arms stick to me like glue while she says, "And I told Diane that if anyone on this island could show us a party it was you and Bryce. Are you going to make me go back on my word?"
      "I'm really sorry, Amber, but I just can't anymore." I have to use a lot of strength to get this woman off me. Finally, I'm able to chase after Marie.
      'Just let her go, Jesse. She doesn't want you bothering her.'
      Shut up.
      Amber yells behind me so that it reaches me, "I guess I'll see you at Bryce's bar later then?"
      I don't answer; I'm too busy chasing Marie in a very literal sense. Damn, this woman is fast... and on sand too.
      I'm panting now, but I hazard a plea. "Marie, please stop!"
      "Leave me alone!" she yells back to me without looking back.
      No, not after that sad look on your face after you thought I had, I think stubbornly as her apartment building looms on the horizon. Still, that she said it wrenches painfully at my heart, and I slow down.
       She goes a little further before turning to look back at me. She doesn't see the rock in the sand and trips on it before landing on her side very ungracefully. Then she immediately rolls to her back and holds her knee like she's in pain. Her mouth freezes in a silent scream before she rolls away from me.

      "Crap! Marie! Are you okay?!" I yell, covering the distance as fast as I can. She's crying, finally able to catch her breath.
      When I get to her, she says through her tears, "Just like in a damn movie. The heroine runs away and trips like an imbecile when she turns to look back."
       "So that makes me the bad guy?" I ask, trying to figure out how to help her. She lies there bawling, her whole frame shaking with her sobs. "Marie, what can I do to help?" I plead.
      "Nothing," she answers. "It's probably only a sprain. Not broken."
      "Then you need ice on it," I point out and wonder how I'm going to get her to some ice.
      "No. The body swells for a reason," she replies and works on standing up.
      "Don't. You'll hurt yourself."
      "I have to get up," she maintains stubbornly.
      I watch helplessly as she makes herself stand on her good leg before gingerly trying out her injured one. She lets out a small cry the instant any weight is put on the limb, and she nearly falls sideways before I reach out and catch her.
      "Help me to my building," she asks of me and puts an arm around my shoulder for support.

       We try hobbling her towards her house for about ten seconds before I get irritated and bend down to pick her up. I growl at her protest and say, "Get over it. I'm perfectly capable of doing this, and you're just going to hurt yourself more by being stubborn." She shuts up after that.
      By the time we get her settled on her couch, the sun has started going down. I rummage around in her kitchen to find a bag and put some ice in it.
      "The body swells to prevent further injury. It needs to stay swollen," she quietly argues with me through the partition wall between her living room and kitchen.
       "Not to the point of cutting off circulation," I argue back.
       "It's not that swollen!"
       I glance over at her knee and see it's getting very swollen, and I shoot her a dubious look. Then, ice bag filled, I march over to her and shove the bag into her hand.
      "Humor me," I request.

     The pair of us are quiet for several minutes while she reclines on the couch and I sit on the edge of her coffee table.
     "I thought you'd want to go and party with Amber and her friends. This has got to be very boring just sitting here like this," she says quietly without looking at me.
     "That reminds me," I say and quickly text Bryce a warning. "I warned Bryce," I tell her in explanation for my silence. "And no, I'm not wanting to go party. This is, with the exception of you being injured, the happiest I've been all week." And it's true. She might be mad at me, but even that's better than being without her.
      "So that's what you do with old lovers. You just brush them aside like they annoy you and warn Bryce to do the same. Did you two share her or did he make it with one of her friends?" she asks in a crass manner, but then she blushes.
     I don't know whether to be angry or laugh my head off. "No, we didn't share her, and she was one that knew she didn't matter, that it was just for fun." I can feel my lips quirk as I hold in the laughter. I think it was her blush after she asked that that I found humorous. Some thought nags me in the back of my mind, and I'm irritated that I can't figure out what it is. So what do we do now?
     I think of something, possibly the one thing that I can still get her to agree to. "Will you give me another chance to take simfu lessons? I honestly thought you'd canceled."
     Her face pinches for a second as a painful thought occurs to her. "But I'm injured."
     "But you'll get better." Then a funny thought occurs to me, "And you can get me doing stuff that doesn't require you showing me how to do it like... waxing cars or painting fences and stuff."
     I see her fight it for a second before she laughs. Then she takes a breath and says, "But I don't own a car or the land I live on, so I can't get you doing those things." She thinks for a minute. "But you can do my laundry... since you're so good at folding towels."

     "And what would I learn simfu-wise about that?" I ask, bewildered but entertained.
     "Well, not much about simfu itself, but I can't do it myself, and it's partly your fault. And keep in mind I'll be keeping an eye on you. You need to learn that stealing other people's clothing is wrong," she answers, looking me dead in the face.
    I work very hard at keeping an innocent expression as I ask, "When do I start?"

53: Ton of Bricks

Marie

     Jesse, I think as his tongue enters my mouth again. How did you learn to kiss like this?

     He pulls me closer to him, and I feel the warm water swirl around me from the hot tub. I squirm from the erotic sensation of the hair on his stomach brushing up against my wet, exposed skin.
     Hands that previously rested on my hips move around my waist so he can hold me firmly to him. I marvel at how warm his skin is, even compared to the water. Curious, my hands begin testing to see if he is indeed warm everywhere and not just where his skin touches mine. He lets out a low groan as I eagerly explore his muscular form. Everywhere I touch, the muscles contract in response to the welcome contact.
     I feel him slowly untie the bikini strap around my neck, the action very deliberate. I wonder if he unties it slowly so that there's no shock once the top is removed. He wants me to know he wants me naked in his arms. I shudder at the knowledge that I want it off too, and the sooner the better. I wiggle to hopefully convey my desire. Finally, he tosses the article of clothing aside, and his hands glide up and down my wet skin like they're devouring every place they touch.
     He lifts his head so he can say one word, "Stay." As his mouth picks up where it left off, he gently separates my knees and moves his body between them. His hands press on my behind, pulling me close against him so that I can feel his poorly-constrained erection through the loose fabric of his suit pushing between my thighs. Then with his hands maintaining their firm grip, he grinds me against him while his hips work in tandem to make me feel pleasure so intense that I wish I could scream.
     He wants me, and I want him right back.

     I realize his mouth has left mine when I throw my head back to the night sky. He languidly runs his lips down my neck as a small, desperate cry escapes me. He moans in response, and I feel the sound of it on my skin as it reverberates through his chest.
     His hands and hips pick up their tempo to the brink of insanity. The speed of his breathing matches mine as intense pleasure pools between my thighs. I cry out again when it becomes unbearable. Why am I finding no relief? I wonder frantically. A keening whine slips out between my teeth as my body shakes from unsatisfied need. Jesse adds more pressure while I dig my nails into the flesh of his shoulders.

      "Marie," he moans, and his voice saying my name brings me over the edge of ecstasy.

      My hands reach out to my sides and grab fistfuls of my bedsheets as my empty orgasm rocks me awake. I move a hand to try to bring more satisfaction, but the crucial moment has passed, leaving me more wanting than satisfied.
     Still panting somewhat, I look over at my alarm clock. It's three thirty in the morning, two and a half hours until Jesse's first simfu lesson.
     I get up and take a shower, unable to get back to sleep.
    What on earth was that dream about? Well, other than the obvious. What does it mean? I think as I realize how nervous I'm going to be when I see him in a few hours. Will he somehow know I dreamed about him?
     And for that matter, how can I even look him in the face after what happened in his office after the party... that he said he threw for me. My mind immediately starts running in circles with the now familiar thoughts of everything Jesse revealed to me last Wednesday night.
     I haven't spoken to or seen him since then. I never responded to his text. I almost feel abandoned until I tell myself that he's probably doing it to give me a little space. I can't help but worry he's given up on me.
     I bite my lip to keep myself from crying again with this thought. I've already done that once already, last Friday when I thought he'd come by the bar, and I don't want to go down that heartbreaking path again.

      I get dressed in my simfu garb that my brother Xavier insisted I bring with me to the island. I suppose I'll have to figure out how to get Jesse some proper attire if he turns out to be serious about wanting to learn. I remember how my dad looked in some of his, and I can't help but think that Jesse would look incredibly hot in that.

      I make my way over to the gym. It's supposed to open at five, and I'm there when they unlock the door. The lady that works the desk smiles at me, and I head out next to the pool where they'd set up the equipment special for me. The training dummy needs some oil on the wood, but other than that, it's in good shape.
      I sit down and meditate until he gets here, hoping that will calm my nerves.
      .........
     I hear people start to slowly trickle in, and I realize I have no idea how much time has gone by. Sometimes I would set alarms for myself because I'd get too into my meditation and lose all track of time, but this is the first time this has happened since I moved here.

     I look at the position of the sun to gauge the time. Surely it's not that far past six already? Is it? I ask someone walking by for the time, and they tell me it's eight. I thank them for telling me.
      He's not coming. He stood me up. Not that this is a date or anything, but he knew this was the time. 
      He's mad at me. That can be the only explanation.
      He did complain about it being early for him. What if his alarm didn't go off or something?
      Two hours, Marie? He stood you up. He's not serious about you. Congratulations, you fell for it.
      I let out a painful huff of air and walk over to beat the crap out of this training dummy in front of me.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jesse

       It's been almost a week since my party. I haven't spoken to her since.

       I sent her a text, and she never responded. Fine, Marie, I get it, I think as I pop open a beer.

       I've gone back and forth from wanting to contact her again in some way to cursing her very existence all week. Bryce called me Friday to ask if I was okay, and I told him yeah when he knew I was lying through my teeth.

       I am not okay. I am wanting to get shitfaced drunk.

       She's working tonight I'll bet. Not that I really want to see her, I lie to myself. I just want to go get a drink.

       I put my beer down on the coffee table and get up to get my keys. If I'm going anywhere, I'd better go now since I've literally had only one swallow.

      I get to Bryce's bar and find it closed. He closes on Tuesdays now?

      I guess with only three people working... hm.

      This means she's not here. Is she at home?

       Stop. She doesn't want to see you.

      

      I get back in my car and drive home. When I get there, I pick up the beer I left on the coffee table.

      After an unknown amount of time goes by, I get a brilliant idea. I put my latest beer bottle on the coffee table with its brethren and get out my phone.

      I wonder what Miss Legs is doing right now...

Hey. Where are you?

      I laugh a little after I hit send. I just texted Marie. It's hilarious!

      My phone stays quiet. And stays quiet. It's silent.

      Bitch. I'm trying to be funny here.

      I dial her number.

      "Hello, Jesse."

       "Hey! Your phone IS on! That's good."

       "Why do you want to know where I am?"

       "Just wondering," I answer vaguely. "I'm trying to picture you in my head, and I wanted to know what background to put you in front of." Awesome. Good thinking, Jesse.

       "Are you drunk?" she asks suspiciously. 

       "Nope. Not yet. I... think." I let out a little laugh.

       We're quiet for a few seconds.

        "Hey," I say. Then my words come out slowly, "You never texted me back."

        "No, I didn't know what to say."

        "I forgot what I said," I say, trying to remember. It's more important to me that I DID it and she never returned. "Do you remember?"

       "Jesse..."

       "What?"

       "I'm not talking about any of this while you're drunk."

        "Well, you weren't talkin' 'bout this when I WASN'T drunk so there."

        She sighs loudly.

        "You walked out."

        "You attacked me."

         I'm shocked. "I did not. I kissed you. There's a diffrence, an' do I need ta teach you what the diffrence is?"

        "I didn't want you to do that."

         I get really sad all of a sudden. "Why does everyone leave?"

         "I don't know what you mean."

         "Jennifer left. So did Brittany. And... Bubbles."

         "Bubbles?"

         " 's'not her real name."

         "I would hope not."

          "And now... you."

         "I didn't leave, Jesse," she states patiently.

         "Mhm, yes you did. Right affer I told you everyone leaves."

         "I mean I didn't leave the island. I'm trying to understand what you're talking about."

         "Humph. An' then you didn'n text me back."

         "I told you I didn't know what to say."

        "I texted that I can't give up. Didn'n I?"

          "Something like that, yes."

          "And you didn'n text me back."

          "Jesse..."

          "Does that mean you want me ta give up?"

          She takes a deep breath and lets it out in a shaky way.

          "Are you crying, Marie? No, baby don't cry," I say in what I hope is a soothing voice. "I'm gonna walk ta yer house."

          "No, Jesse,"  she says in a whine. She sounds like she might be crying, and it rips my heart in two.

          I get up, take two steps, and the ground tilts itself at a strange angle. I almost fall flat on my face. My hands are a little slow in catching me, but I manage okay. Miraculously, I never let go of the phone. "Then again... Maybe not."

         "Did you just fall?"

         "Yep. I guess I'm stayin' at home." I say as I roll over on my back. "I miss you, Marie. Will you come over?"

         "That's not a good idea."

         " 'Course it is 'cause I'm too drunk to walk even... an' I miss you."

         "Jesse, no, it's not a good idea."

         "It's a wonderful idea." I pause as a thought occurs to me. "I'm fallin' in love wiff you, Marie," I admit. The other end of the line stays quiet for about five seconds.

          "How can you say that to me?! You don't KNOW me!" Her voice gets shrill.

          "I wanna know you better," I say with the knowledge that I love her filling me completely. "I love yer eyes. I told you that, right? An' you have fantastic legs. An' hair. ... Why di'j'you stop me?"

          "You're drunk."

          "Yeah. I think yer right."

          "You need to sleep this off."

          "Will you come over an' help me? I need you, Marie."

          "Well, now THAT'S an honest statement for once,"  she snaps, and I'm confused.

           "It is."

           "Goodnight, Jesse."

            "Huh? No!" The call ends. What did I say?

        I call her again. It goes to voicemail. So, I call again. Same thing. So, I call again. Voicemail. So, I call again.

       "What?!" she snaps.

       "Why di'j'you hang up?"

       "Because you're drunk, and I don't want to listen to your lines."

        "I'm not usin' lines. Because I love you? That's'notta line."

        "You don't love me, Jesse. You're drunk."

        "I don't love you cuz I'm drunk?"

        "You're only saying it because you are. No, I'm not responding to your booty call."

        I laugh a little because with her accent, booty sounds really funny coming from her. "That is what this looks like, huh?"

        "Yes."

        A moment of clarity hits me. "I'm only sayin' it cuz I'm drunk, but that doesn'n make it untrue ... or that does make it true, or... doesn'n make it true?" So much for my moment of clarity. "I dunno, but I know I love you, so there!"

        "What's my favorite color, Jesse?"

        "Green," I guess.

        She's quiet for a second or two before she asks, "And my favorite sport?"

         "Soccer... or football whadever."

        "How do you know this?"

       "Cuz at the bar you watch the TV the most when it's on. This's fun! Ask me anudder question." I grin.

         "How many women have you slept with?"

         The question hits me like a ton of bricks. I try to count them up in my fogged brain.

          "I don't know."

          "That's what I thought. Goodnight, Jesse." She hangs up.

         I stare up at my ceiling for a few minutes. Then, I call her again. Voicemail. I call again. Voicemail. I leave a message. "Why di'j'you ask me that? That's'not fair." I hang up and stare at my ceiling some more.

-----------------------

     The blaring sun streaks across my face as I try to close my eyes tight enough to block it out. It doesn't work, so I roll over. 

       I hear my phone make a shrill noise, indicating I have a message. I don't remember hearing it ring. I press a button just to make it shut the hell up, and I go back to sleep.

-----------------------

      I'm uncomfortable.

      I lift my head and find myself on my living room floor. 

      Then the memories from last night hit hard... the ones I can remember, that is. I know I texted and then called Marie, but I can't remember the details of what we talked about. I do remember that she said she wouldn't come over because I was drunk. She hung up on me.

      I find my phone on the floor, and I pull it towards me and unlock it to see what time it is. Two in the afternoon. Wednesday. I have a message.

       I go into my voicemail to listen with a confused expression. I don't remember turning off the message notification.
        It's Marie. "I hope that you're not drunk when you listen to this. You wanted to know why I asked you that, and it's because I will not be just another notch in your bedpost, another conquest, another in a long line. You say you're not playing me, that that's one of the reasons you want to take simfu lessons so that you can see me regularly. Then, you don't show up for your first lesson. How can you say what you said and expect me to take you seriously? How can you do this to me when I've TOLD you what I'm going through?" For a moment, she sounds like she's having trouble composing herself before she continues, "Please don't feed me bullshit, Jesse. Go find another victim because I can't handle it."

    I push the button to save the message, a confused scowl covering my brow. What did she ask me that I wanted to know why? Another 'notch on my bedpost'? 'Conquest'?

     'How many women have you slept with?'

     Fuck. She still thinks I'm playing her!

     If I just go and tell her I'm not, she won't believe me. I know she won't. That's what that tone in the message tells me. I'm not 'feeding her bullshit'!

     I gasp as a memory hits me. I told her I love her. ... and she didn't believe me.

     Well, I don't fucking blame her if the first time I tell her is when I'm drunk off my ass... literally. I don't think I can mess this up any worse. 'Victim.' A small 'huh' noise escapes me as I let out all the air in my lungs.
     Shit! She showed up for the lesson after all. I'd assumed that since she stormed out that she'd cancelled the lesson on Monday. Oh shit! She said on Wednesday night that if I was playing her then I could just 'not show up' for the simfu lesson when I'd tried to use setting those future meetings as proof that I WASN'T playing her.
       I let out a pathetic whine and put my fists on my pounding forehead. I'm an asshole.

     I should call her and explain.

     No. I'm finding her and doing this in person. This island isn't THAT big. I WILL find her.

52: Serious Discussion

(The following night...)

Erin

     Bryce and I stand on my front porch after walking over here. Marie still has my scooter, but I don't mind.
     Bryce looks pained.
     "Are you sure?" he asks me again.
     I've decided that since Sean is gone that I'm going to go back to living in my house. Bryce looked crestfallen when I told him this earlier today. He'd thought I could at least stay the week like we'd planned, but I need a little space between us for at least a night.
     "Bryce, I'll be fine. You'll be fine," I say quietly.
     "When can I see you again?" he asks like he would at the end of a first date or something.
     I shrug like it's no big deal. "Tomorrow, I guess."
     He takes a deep breath. "What time?"
     "You can come over right after Adele gets on the bus again like you've done before," I offer. Then he pulls me into his arms like he wants to somehow physically attach us together permanently.
     "I'm glad now that I work late hours. At least I'll be distracted while at work and exhausted when I get home." He mumbles now, "I used to be quite good at that routine."
     I bury my head in the little space between his neck and shoulder and sigh. This has been so intense that he's going to have trouble slowing down.
     "Bryce, ..."
     "I know," he says, quickly stopping my chastisement before I can say it. Then we simply stand here holding each other.

      I have a sudden desire to reach my hand down and run my fingertips across his stomach. He's wearing another of those thin t-shirts of his, and I want to eat him alive. To try to make myself feel better, I turn a little so that I'm pressed more fully against him. He takes a deep breath and squeezes me tighter. Our breathing alters, and he rolls his head around to get my face to turn up before he lovingly kisses me in one of his 'Bryce kisses,' quickly spiraling out of control.
     He tries to talk while kissing me. "You feel... so good... like this."
     A hand reaches down to grab my butt and pull me closer to him so that I can really tell how the moment affects him.
     Some small amount of sanity escapes me so I can say, "You have to... go to work."
     "I'll be late," he says, grabbing my keys from my hand.

     Before I know what's happening, I find myself up on the kitchen counter. He's already yanked my panties down before placing me up here, and he works himself just enough out of his shorts before swiftly pulling me towards him and driving himself into me.
     Shirt. Off. Now, I think before he can really begin, and I proceed to remove the shirt. He happily assists me, and at last, I get to run my hands over his beautiful abs.
      Well, for just a moment, because he pulls me tight up on him, hugging me to him as he starts up a steady rhythm. Soon, I'm only half on the counter while he bounces me. I tightly wrap my arms around his neck to find some stability. Then, as the mounting pleasure builds, I also cling to him out of desperation. All I'm really able to do is hold on while he handles everything else.
      "Oh," he gasps. "Baby. C'mon, Erin."
      I let out a cry. How does he do that by just talking?
      He whispers to me, "Come for me, Erin."

      Like magic, I do as he asks, throwing my head back as another cry escapes me. He stops for a solitary second before suddenly yelling and pressing my hips harder into him. I come again from the force of his orgasm. That, or that was one hell of an aftershock.
     His phone rings. He ignores it.
     "It's bound to be Jones," I gasp out.
     "Probably," he agrees, trying to catch his breath. With a groan, he pulls out of me and helps me to stand on my feet. His tongue escapes his mouth before even reaching mine, and I have mine open to accept it.

      "I don't want to go to work. I want to stay here and do wickedly naughty things to you."
      I can't stop my shudder from what he said, and my voice sounds breathless when I reply, "But you're the boss. You have to go to work."
       He rights his shorts and tells me he hates it when I'm right about stuff like this. I laugh a little.
      "Tomorrow then," he smiles mischievously at me before running a single finger down the side of my face, kissing the tip of my nose, and turning to leave with his shirt in his hand.
       He stops when he gets to the door, turns and says, "Oh, before I go..." He bounds over to me. "I love you." Then he quickly kisses my mouth, smiles, and dashes out the door before I can respond.
      I laugh at the inside of my front door. Then I walk over and flop down on my small sofa, my mood instantly changing. Bryce, I think with a groan, how often am I gonna have to tell you to slow down?

      I start crying.
      What is wrong with me? Why am I crying?! I should be happy! Sean is gone! Gone! I never have to see him again.
      I actually cry harder at this thought. I will never see him again.
      I need to figure myself out, and fast. I'm crying over losing Sean again.
      My subconscious refused to let me think about this around Bryce for fear of hurting him with this display.
      Sean, why did you have to do that? Why? I loved you with everything I had and you... you slept with my best friend of all people! Why?!
      And now I'll never know why... because he's gone.
      I'm glad he's gone.
      I miss him.
      No! I love Bryce. My sweet, secretly-sensitive Bryce that loves me and wants me with him all the time.
      I never got to have a serious discussion with Sean. Of course, he never would want a serious discussion unless it occurred after sex, and then I'd have to be fast.
      I need a serious discussion with him though.
      But he's gone.
      I look at my laptop sitting on my desk, and an idea occurs to me.
      I'll send him an email.

      I sit down and open my email up. I haven't opened it in ages because I got aggravated at Bill for spamming me. It's filled with warnings about Sean coming to the island.
      I need to call my brother and tell him I'm okay.
      I shoot him a quick email telling him everything is fine, Sean is on his way home, or there, without me. I only just hint at the fact that I have another boyfriend already. I don't wanna hit him with too much at once. Then, I write up an email to Sean:

     I hit send. Then, I decide to write in my diary. I haven't done that in ages either.

Dear Diary,
     I decided to stick with Bryce, and I haven't regretted my decision. He really is that wonderful person he was on our first day... the day that Jesse visited me here and kissed me. Jesse and I have become good friends, surprisingly. He's really sweet and funny when he's not trying to hit on me. (He hasn't since then.) He and Bryce made up in their strange way that I won't get into, and now he's wanting to date someone named Marie.
      Marie is the same Marie that Cristina grew up with and claimed she bullied her. I'd always wondered if perhaps Cris was exaggerating. She can be so overly-dramatic at times, and now that I've heard Marie's side of the story, I think what Cristina did to her is cruel. The worst is that Dawson over whom they fought. Marie would do better with Jesse. I think he could easily fall in love with her if he hasn't already.

     My email pings at me. It's Sean. ?!?!

     I start crying again. That was the Sean I fell in love with.
     He even apologized for ending in a preposition.
      My IM dings.


Sean: Are you there?

     Oh shit. It's Sean, I think and wipe my eyes.
      The little dot next to my name indicates that I am online. Curse me for not turning it off!

Erin: Yes.
Sean: Did you read it?
Erin: Yes.

      My computer stays silent for a few minutes before he says something again.

Sean: I was a complete asshole, and I'm infinitely sorry. I wish there was a better word than sorry.

Erin: I know. Thank you for telling me the truth. Did you make it home okay?

     I throw in the question just to be polite.

Sean: I will never be okay. Because I miss you so bad it hurts.

     I feel like was just stabbed.

Sean: Maybe we're better off apart, but I wish we could've worked things out.

     No.

Erin: We can never work things out because I would never be able to trust you again.
Sean: I know.
Sean: So, what am I interrupting? What were you doing?
Erin: I was just writing in my diary.

     I don't want to discuss my day with him, so I kept my answer simple.

Sean: Boyfriend not there?
Erin: That's none of your business.

     I'm not going to tell you I'm sitting here alone.

Sean: Okay. I was just wondering. It's not like I can hop over there anyway.
Sean: I couldn't imagine that if he's there that he's left you alone long enough to email, write in your diary (which you only do when you're alone ;) ), and chat with me for a minute.

     Son of a...

Erin: He doesn't hover over me constantly.

     I can't help but get defensive.

Sean: I didn't mean that he did. But now that you mention it, I did notice how he never let you out of his sight for long. Bit overboard imho.
Erin: Not overboard. Protective. You scared the shit out of me, so I needed him to be that way.
Sean: Yet another reason for you to hate me.
Erin: I don't *hate* you. I just don't want you in my life anymore.
Sean: And I'm sorry for that. Deeply, agonizingly sorry.
Sean: I am still your brother's friend.
Erin: With friends like you...

      Don't point out to me ways I might see you again someday!

Sean: I told him where you are.
Erin: Doesn't matter anymore because you were the one from whom I wanted to hide.
Sean: You mean hide from?

     I let out a high-pitched growl.

Sean: C'mon, baby doll, it doesn't kill you if you end a sentence in a preposition. It's even allowed.
Erin: I'm not having this discussion with you. You know why I can't stand that. I'm done with this conversation. Thank you for explaining things to me.

     I almost shut off my computer, but I have to say one more thing.

Erin: Also, I'm not your baby doll.

     I turn off my computer before he can have a chance to make a comeback.

     I am so angry! I think as I get up and walk around in my small living room.
     Deciding that I can't stand the enclosed space, I walk outside to my backyard and stare out over the lagoon.
     Yes, Sean, you were immature and conceited, and arrogant, and a world-class jerk!
     And you said sorry. There should be a better word.
     Damn you! I loved you! You went out and hurt me on purpose so you could have 'one more fling.' Well, anyone who wants 'one more fling' shouldn't get married at all because that means he/she isn't ready!
     I'm glad, now, that I walked in on them. Finding him like that, with her, kept me from saddling myself with an asshole.
      And eventually brought me here... to Bryce... someone who's been hurt badly... and never dealt with it. I need to deal with this now.
      I try, but I can't think about myself anymore. My heart swells when I picture Bryce in my mind, and I feel more worried about him than I do myself.
      I'm not in the same place you are, Bryce. I'm in a better one.
      I will never be married to Sean, and I'm happy about that.
      I'm happy!

      I look up and hug myself, almost laughing with relief. I feel like ten tons have been forever lifted off my shoulders.
      I do laugh now as I twirl in a circle, a few happy tears escaping my eyes.
      I'm completely in love with Bryce! I have an overpowering want to see him, but I don't have my scooter. His bar is on the other side of the lagoon.
      Maybe I could swim...
      Nah, that's too crazy. I'll just call him and hear his voice.
      I dial his number.
      "Hey, Beautiful. What's up?"

      "I love you," I say simply, a few more tears escaping.
      "Couldn't let me have the last word, huh?" I hear the laughter in his voice.
      "No, I really love you," I say emphatically, praying the emotion in my voice reaches him over his phone in the loud bar.
      He stays quiet for a few seconds before his voice sounds a little choked up when he finally says, "I believe you." The background noise has lessened dramatically. "Do you have... any idea how hard it is for me to stay put at work right now?"
     "Yes. I wish I had my scooter."
     "I love you too," he says. His voice sounds quiet, and I can picture him standing in the extra seating area, trying not to break down in public.
      I decide to tell him how I reached my conclusion. "I needed some time to think, I guess." I choose to not mar this wonderful moment by talking about Sean. He can hear about that later.
      "Still tomorrow, or will you spend the night? It's killing me to not have you right here with me."
      "I still need a little 'alone time,' but maybe tomorrow night," I answer, and he stays quiet. "Bryce, don't be upset."
     "Upset? Me?" Then I hear a sad smile in his voice as he says, "I suppose I can wait and see you in the morning."
      "It's not that far away."
      "Get some sleep, my beautiful Erin, because you're going to need it."
       Huh?! After I catch my breath, I ask, "Is that a threat?"
       "No. Not really. It's friendly advice to keep you from being entirely worn out for tomorrow night from what I want to do to you tomorrow morning."
      I can't stop the small whimper from escaping as I think about all he could possibly mean, and I pray he didn't hear it.
      "That's right, baby," he says knowingly.
      Holy shit!

      "How am I supposed to sleep now?" I almost whisper.
      "Hm, well, you could come over tonight so I could wear you out, but you'd have to be quiet. If that happens, I might go easy on you in the morning."
      My voice sounds extra-shaky as I reply, "Bryce, I need to be by myself tonight. I need to let eradicating Sean from everything soak in and get complete closure."
      "All right, baby," he says more gently. "That's incredibly important to me too. Don't worry about me tonight, just get some good sleep."
      "Okay," I breathe, not able to say much more.
      I hear his smile as he says, "Goodnight, Erin. I love you."
      "I love you too, Bryce," I say, and we hang up.
      I stumble off to my bed for a few hours of sleep, ready to start everything afresh tomorrow.