“Do you love him?” he asks still holding me above water.
“Zeke?” I ask, already knowing who he’s talking about. He nods his head and I do too.
“I don’t want to love him. Actually it’s probably the last thing that I want to do. I just can’t stop,” I tell him, my emotions mixed.
“He isn’t good for you, Bexley.”
“My head knows this, just not my heart,” I tell him. He releases me and we climb back on the Jet Skis. He doesn’t say much, little to nothing as we finish up and drive back to Zeke’s home. When we come to a stop at the front, I turn to see a pained expression on his face, he tries to hide it when he looks at me.
“I want to tell you to go in there and get your things, so I can take you away. Show you something better.” He stops and takes a deep breath. “But I know you won’t when you look at him. I know it’s only him. Just remember, if you can’t do this anymore, call me,” he says and leans over and places a soft kiss on my mouth. I don’t stop him, he’s a beautiful man, no a stunning man. I know he means the words he’s spoken. I break away and get out of his car, waving to him as he drives off. When I turn to go into the house, Zeke is standing there watching me.
I don’t walk toward him at first, staying where I am. Watching him, he’s angry, his face is hard. He opens the door and gestures me to come in. My steps are slow and deliberate, not knowing what’s to come or what he even saw. When I reach him, he doesn’t move, he’s standing in front of me. Hard body and a harder stare.
“Have a nice day?” he asks angrily.
“I had a great day,” I whisper, looking into his eyes.
“I gathered that,” he says nodding his head in the direction where Jagger’s just left. I go to walk past him and he stops me with his hand on my arm.
“You want to fuck him, Bexley?” he asks leaning down so he’s in my face when he asks.
“No,” I say getting angry. He notices and his head tips to the side assessing me.
“Why were his lips on you?” he sneers.
I want to slap him, I did nothing wrong. I didn’t ask for his lips on me. “Fuck you,” I say pulling my arm free and walking inside the house. He follows me. I can hear his heavy footsteps coming closer. I make it to the bedroom and close and lock the door just before he gets there. He tries to unlock with no luck and starts cursing.
“Bexley, open the fucking door. This conversation is not finished,” he says punching the door. I jump from the shock and cover my erratically beating heart with my hands. I manage to calm down, knowing he’d never hurt me and try to even out my breathing.
“Bexley, grow the fuck up and open this door. We’re having a conversation…now! Stop acting like a fucking child and open the fucking door,” he screams the last part. I ignore him, which maybe proves that I am being childish as he suggested.
He stops yelling and I go for a shower, it’s late and I want to go to sleep. When I finish I wonder if I’m actually being childish. But then, I remember I don’t give a fuck if I am and roll over and go to sleep.
I wake sometime later to Zeke crawling into bed with me. I don’t fully wake. He doesn’t say anything when he climbs in bed and wraps me in his arms as he pulls me closer to him. I lay there while pretending I’m still asleep when he kisses my head and holds me tight for a few seconds longer. Then sleep claims me again.
Stolen kisses are always sweetest.
~Leigh Hunt~
I’m glad I couldn’t see her last night and I’m glad she locked the door on me and didn’t open it. After I had stood there for another five minutes with no answer, I left. I went straight to Aria’s house to pay her brother a visit. He wasn’t shocked when he saw me; he merely opened the door to let me in. I didn’t have the right words for him straight away, I simply walked up and punched him straight in the face and broke his nose. I heard it crack under my hand. He started laughing and I wanted to hit him again.
“You want a broken knee cap to go with that nose?” I ask him, stepping closer. He lifted his hand to stop me then replaced it back to his nose to stop the bleeding.
“I needed to see if you loved her, I guess I got my answer,” Jagger says with his hand partially covering his mouth.
“You kissed my fucking girl to see if I loved her? I should break your fucking knee cap for being so stupid,” I seethe and take a step closer as he steps back.
“Do you know what today is?” he asks mumbling the words so I can barely understand him.
“What has the day got to do with anything?” I yell at him.
“It’s her birthday, man, and I knew you wouldn’t do anything. So I took her out,” he says shaking his head. I step back from him. Not really looking at him, but staring blankly. I know when her birthday is. I know all her history, I carried out a full check on her. I grab my phone and look at the date. June the first. Fuck! It is her birthday and I was a fucking asshole.
I don’t say anything when I leave, just leave him on the porch of the house with a bloody nose which is most likely broken. When I get home, I wonder if she’s pissed at me for not doing anything, or even remembering. It’s not something I do. Fuck, I don’t even remember my own fucking birthday, let alone some else’s. But I want to do something, need to do something, to make up for it. I Google what to get your girlfriend for her birthday, ‘cause I sure as shit have no fucking idea. The top hit seems to be flowers. So on my way home, I stop at a flower shop and buy as many as I can that will fit in my car. Then I purchase chocolates, and order jewelry, all online and guaranteeing they will be delivered tomorrow.
I pick the lock on the door when I arrive home and see Bexley sleeping. She has a pillow on either side of her and her legs wrapped around one. She’s wearing my shirt and nothing else. I shower and climb in behind her, and when I lay next to her, I bring her to me and kiss her head. Hoping and praying to the Gods above that we don’t shatter each other. But I have a feeling it’s inevitable.
There is no remedy for love but to love more.
~Henry David Thoreau~
He’s asleep when I wake up and still has me secured by his side. I often wonder how one person can stay in the same spot all night. I know, I don’t. I woke to his face this morning, meaning I turned around instead of having my back to him. I lift his arm gently and manage to get out of bed without waking him. I go to the bathroom, then move to the kitchen to make some breakfast. When I step into the living room, a scream rips from my mouth as balloons attack my face. I calm myself down enough to actually look around. The floor is covered in flowers, the coffee table is covered in chocolates, all sorts of chocolates, even strawberries covered in chocolate. I hear running and turn to see Zeke standing in the doorway naked with a gun raised in preparation.
“Ummm,” is all I manage to say? He turns to me and sees the questionable look on my face. He looks around one more time before he lowers his gun and I take my time assessing his body. It never gets old, the look of him. Even the scars that maim his body make him that much more attractive. He notices me staring and smirks.
“You like?” he asks gesturing to the room. I have to remove my eyes from his now growing cock to understand he means the room instead of him. I nod my head and my eyes wander around at all the different kinds of flowers that are everywhere. And I mean everywhere; on the floor, the couch, the television. Pink, yellow, white, red; all the colors you could think of. And then there are balloons that are pinned to the roof, not to mention the chocolate. I turn back to him and he’s watching me, waiting for my reaction.