I don’t even recognize the voice in my head. I’m depressed, agitated, lost, starving, and horny as hell. It’s been over three years since I’ve had sex. Three. Years! Chance thinks I need to get laid, but I’ve never been the guy who easily indulges in one night stands. However, a relationship is not an option, so I guess I’ll keep my Playboy subscription and hand lotion to save the poor women of Boston from falling prey to my selfish needs and lack of ability to ever commit again.
The scotch is numbing, infiltrating my blood with the ease of molasses. In moments like this I feel outside of my body, a stranger observing the mere shell of the man he used to be. I miss that Oliver Konrad. He was full of life, confident, kind, aspiring, and driven. But mostly he was connected, rooted in this world and thriving in his environment, taking all life had to give.
Lost. I’m lost in this moment. I’m lost in every moment, floundering around as one day blurs into the next. I won’t look back, but I can’t see forward. Stuck—that’s it—I’m stuck. Am I waiting to be rescued? Will I dig my own way out and move forward? Or, will I perish in this dark hole?
I haven’t missed many sunrises in my adult life. It’s my favorite time of the day. It used to be symbolic of living to see another day, but now it’s the reminder I need that time isn’t standing still. For a brief moment I actually feel the earth moving beneath my feet, inching me away from my past.
Several months ago I agreed to move back home under one condition—my family would never mention my time in Portland. It’s asking a lot of my mom, who is a psychiatrist, to pretend her son is not fucked-up in the head, almost to the point of insanity. My dad, however, is a cardiologist and he openly admits the only matters of the heart he cares to deal with are the ones behind the closed doors of a sterile OR.
“Are we still on for dinner, sweetie? Your brother is bringing a ‘friend’ so feel free to do the same. Love you!”
I delete the voice message off my phone with a deep sigh. My family is the best, really. Growing up in Boston our house was the gathering point for all our friends, and when it wasn’t overrun with kids, my parents hosted dinner parties and wine tastings. Now the once Leave it to Beaver house is haunted by the ghosts of my past and the only thing more awkward than the impersonal and random dinner conversation is the blinding pain in their eyes. It says so much more than words ever could.
Me: I’ll be there, no plus one for me. Love you.
I send off a quick text and head to Harvard Square. Leaning against a concrete post in the underground transportation dungeon, I see the doughnut queen come down the stairs. Curious eyes find me as she masks her smile behind the lid of her coffee cup. It should be illegal for someone with legs that long to wear shorts that short. I wait for her to make her usual navigation in my direction, but instead she stares at the MBTA map like she hasn’t seen it a million times before.
Worming my way through the growing crowd, I stand behind her without saying anything.
“Hey, neighbor,” she says, and I think I can hear the grin on her face.
“No doughnut today?”
She turns, both hands cupping her coffee inches from her mouth. “I already ate it. Thought it was in all the other commuters’ best interest.”
I grin and nod. I’m sure I won’t be the only guy disappointed that the 7:30 a.m. doughnut porn show has been cancelled.
We board the subway and stand facing each other again. I look at her coffee with a single raised brow, then at her eyes.
“No worries.” She smiles, securing a firm grip on her hot drink as the train jerks to a start.
“I wasn’t thinking anything.” I chuckle.
“You were thinking I was going to owe you another new shirt. Your eyes say it all. It must be a Konrad family trait because your brother’s eyes don’t lie.”
“Well, you’re wrong. I was actually wondering what you eat when you’re not sucking down caffeine and sugar.”
“If that’s your sneaky way of asking me to dinner, then I’ll stop you right now.”
Glancing over her head I shake mine, rolling my eyes. “I’m not asking you to dinner or looking for a date. I was just making conversation.”
“Good, because I don’t date.”
I shrug. “Neither do I.”
“Good.”
“Good.”
“Fine.”
“Fine,” I say back as we approach my stop. “Well, see you around.”
She nods.
“Indian!” I hear her call as I maneuver my way to the doors.
I glance back.
She lifts her shoulders with a goofy grin beaming across her face. “Since you wondered … I like Indian food.”
“Me too.” I match her grin and jump off as the doors start to shut.
Chapter Three
A Nun’s Life
Vivian
3 Years Earlier
“We don’t have to,” Kai reassures me.
“I know. Don’t you want to?”
“Yeah, of course I do … I just, you know … I don’t want to hurt you.”
I slip off my sundress and wait for him to make the next move. His eyes explore my body and I feel it. Desire. I didn’t know if I would feel it, if I even could, but Kai wants me and when he pushes down his shorts exposing his tented briefs, my hopes are confirmed.
“Are you sure your parents won’t be home until later?” he whispers as if there’s someone else in the house.
“I’m sure. Besides, I’ll be nineteen in another month. What could they possibly do to me?”
Kai nods, shrugging off his shirt. He’s the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome with his olive skin, dark brown hair, hazel eyes, and muscles defined from relentless laps in the pool. I can’t believe the boy I’ve known since kindergarten, the one who used to call me skeleton girl because my early growth spurt made it nearly impossible to keep an ounce of fat on my body, stands before me ready to take my virginity.
It’s taken twelve years for our friendship to blossom into something beautiful. There have been a spectrum of emotions and drama between us. But after years of choosing every girl except me, it’s finally my turn. Kai wants to be with me, not as a friend, but a lover. I push back the thoughts of his jealousy. Whether I need it or not, I don’t want to be reminded that he chose me after I showed interest in someone else. A little competition is good. It’s what he needed to see, the only girl for him has been by his side all along.
My legs shake as I step closer to him. I rest my hands on his bare chest, and he weaves his fingers through my hair. Our lips connect and a silent chill ripples through me as my skin tightens, erupting with goose bumps. We’ve been intimate in every way except having sex. My hand makes the familiar journey along his stomach, slipping under his briefs. He moans into my mouth as I stroke him. I love how firm he gets for me.