Chapter Sixteen : Too Real To Be True
Shallow and even, Ashley's breaths patter through the easy silence of my quiet bedroom. Through the blinds, specks of early morning sunshine splatter the white comforter covering our bare bodies.
She sleeps comfortably on her stomach, face snuggled into the side of my pillow, so close to my shoulder. I want so badly to brush my fingers over her skin, feeling her in all the ways I still can’t get used to and probably never will. It's just too good to ever get used to. It's just too fucking amazing to ever take for granted. She's too good to be true. I'd never take her for granted, like I so rashly have for the past two years. Not anymore. Never again. And it only makes me want to touch her more. To make sure she’s really here. But I don't, letting her sleep, instead. I don't want to pull her from her comforting dreams. I'd spend forever watching her live inside safe places that keep her from the reality of this morning.
This morning where, once again, we’ll have to face the consequences of our nightly dirty deeds.
A breezy breath pushes past my light lips.
The thing is, while I should be facing those consequences, I’m not. While I should be thinking of all the wrong I’ve done. All the morals I’ve gone against. All the unspoken rules I’ve broken and all the sins I’ve committed. I’m not. They’re nowhere near my brain's train of thought. I just can’t wrap my brain around it. Around all the things I should feel.
Regret. Remorse. Guilt.
I can’t wrap myself around those things, because I don’t feel them. I don’t feel any of them. All I feel is Ashley. Her tender body beside mine. Her constant and comforting puffs of air against my arm. Her kisses in the night, all over my damp body. Confessions pushed inside me as if I were her diary. Leaving me with her love letters pressed to my skin, written between her blazing lips. Singed inside my body forever.
I’ve been up for just a few minutes now, laying flat on my back, just watching her sleep. Peacefully. Beautifully. I’ve never done this before, just watching someone sleep. I’ve never ever thought to do something so cheesy and ridiculously corny.
But here I am, regardless, stuck inside a cliche. Trapped between her bed head locks. Utterly entranced by her blushed cheeks. Hungry for her swollen lips and flushed body. Wishing I could touch all of it, all of her, at once. Waiting till I finally can touch her again. Starving to have her in every way I possibly can. Like I did last night. Like I did the night before.
Like she were mine all along.
An instinctive hand sleepily slides out from under her chest, reaching for my body. Warmly, she wraps her fingers around my neck, idly and loosely holding me there. Even through a sound sleep, she still keeps me close. She still needs me near. Luggishly, she rolls her body to the side, tossing a heavy leg over both of mine. Holding me captive, and suddenly I have no problem with being held against my own will. No problem at all.
Leaning up slightly, I press a soft kiss into her hair, getting lost inside her ethereal scent, and gently fall onto my back once again. Her hand moves with me, falling further down on my chest, revealing the inside of her wrist. Revealing her lone tattoo.
Lightly and hesitantly, I pull my hand from beneath the covers, taking hers inside it. Lightly letting my thumb brush over her skin, barely grazing it. Leaving ghosts of touches against her as another breath pushes past my lips.
"Morning."
Groggy and sleep filled, she whispers into my neck. Tickling my throat in the best kind of way. Sending shivers down my spine, as I whisper "Morning" right back, eyes never leaving those numbers. Her numbers. Numbers that kind of mean everything.
Fingers loosely, awkwardly, tie together across my chest, as she softly grazes the back of my hand. "Whatcha thinkin about?"
Her heads tilts back, leaning on her own pillow, eyes asking for my attention. And while that's a plea I never waste time in granting. While that's a question I love answering, I have to do something else first. Slowly, thoughtfully, I pull her wrist to my lips, lightly kissing everything she's lost, everything that means everything to her.
And ultimately, everything that means everything to me. Because those numbers, in all their pain and sorrow, gave me the best thing to ever come into my life.
They brought her to me.
I let my lips trail up over the heel of her palm, dragging them to the middle where all her life lines reside. Softly kissing them, right there in the middle of her hand. I think I hear her sigh in a way that's kind of like a moan, and I finally clasp our hands together, slowly rolling over to face her.
"I was thinking about you." Shyfully and honestly, I whisper into the space between us, my eyes getting lost in the space between her parted upturned lips.
"Yeah?"
She asks equally bashful, as if she still can't believe I might think of her in the same way she thinks of me. As if she's just waiting for me to take it back. Take all of this back, because really, how can I person go from having nothing they want to everything they need in such a short period of time? Well they can, because we're both here, link and tied together like we were one, beneath my blankets. The unbelievably surreal and amazing feeling of dreams coming true washing over both of us.
And I can only nod a reply, somewhat fazed by the way her tongue quickly draws over her red lips.
"What about me?" Smiling her words, I feel myself inching closer against her, doing it completely unconsciously. My body somehow just naturally attracted to hers. Along with my hand, as it instinctively slides away from me, wrapping around her waist, feeling her scorching skin forging to mine.
Fingers crawling lightly over her waist, I reply honestly, “I was just wondering how you knew about Shaker Heights to move here.”
There’s a curious smile on her lips, maybe from my randomness, maybe not. “You honestly want to know?”
I nod, slightly vehemently, curiosity getting the best of me.
“Ok.” She takes a deep breath, as if she were going to tell me the cure for world peace, “I looked at a map of Ohio, chose the first three cities that caught my eye, wrote them down on pieces of paper and...” She bites her lip, “...picked one out of a hat.”
“Really?” Geekily asked with far too wide eyed excitement.
“Yup. A very advanced way of researching a place to live. I’m very sensible, you know.”
She giggles, and I do too, nowhere near thinking about how insensible our current predicament is. How insensible our naked bodies pressed together, beneath this thick blanket, truly is.
“Wow...” I whisper softly, eyes drifting to nowhere, ready to think out loud without even realizing it, “...so it’s kind of like fate.”
“What’s that?” She asks with an all knowing little smirk, and it makes me unbelievably shy. So shy for speaking without thinking. For speaking not with my mouth, but with my heart.
Cheeks pink, maybe from our heat -- mostly from my words-- my eyes look just below her face, rolling over her slightly jutting collarbone, as I quietly confess, “Us meeting, you know, you and me...” Now it’s my turn to bite my lip, “It’s like it were meant to be.”
For an unknown reason, I suddenly feel very naked. And not just on the outside. Not just from the clothes my body seriously lacks. No I feel stripped inwardly. Like she can actually see my heart beating out of my chest. Catching every single thing I feel. And suddenly, it's like she’s reading my body as if it were now my diary, instead of touching it like it were her own.
But as I chance a look at her, as I finally, bravely, lift my eyes from safety, straight into the danger of chocolate brown, I feel any insecurity dissolve away. I feel myself not covered up, but wrapped up. Wrapped inside Ashleys loving, happy eyes. Wrapped inside chocolate brown and Ashley's warmth.
Because she’s looking at me as if I’ve said the sweetest thing she’s ever heard. As if this weak confession I've barely muttered, were really the biggest loudest confession of love.
And it brings her hand to my cheek. It brings her fingers to trace over my cheekbone, down to my jaw, mindlessly doodling across the sensitive skin of my neck. Making me shiver. Shiver inside and out in this suddenly sweltering bed.
“Come ‘ere.”
She whispers in a way that isn’t so much sweet, as it is hot. As it is demanding. I’ve never been more terrified of kissing her. Which is the silliest thing in the world, considering how often I’ve kissed her these past two nights. Considering all the places I’ve kissed her.
Considering I can still taste her in my mouth if I try hard enough.
“Come on...” She sweetly persists, continuing as if she were a child in the sand pit of the playground, “I wanna tell you a secret.”
Never able to turn down that voice, I lean forward with ridiculous trepidation, and she moves me right along, gently guiding me with a hand sifting through my hair. Hardly an inch between our lips, she nuzzles her nose with mine. She moans so softly against me and I can feel my stinted breaths skipping from my mouth into hers. Faces so close, fitting together as if we were a perfect puzzle made from two perfect pieces.
“You...” Her face moves agonizingly slow against mine, tilting at every angle, brushing every sensitive curve, while her lips act as ghosts, haunting my outside and touching me so far inside, “...are...” all I hear are our breaths pouring together, and if they were liquid I’m sure they’d make the most deliciously intoxicating cocktail, “...so...” suddenly she pulls away, not too far, but far enough for me to finally see her dark eyes and light smile, “...beautiful.”
Mouth turning into the most bashful and honest corners, she whispers her words, just like I whispered mine earlier. She speaks her confessions that aren’t really confessions through nervous lips.
And all I feel are my cheeks on fire. All I feel is my mouth so dry, so unkissable. But actually, I've never felt more kissable. My tongue darting across my lips has never felt so tangible.
“Come ‘ere.”
This time, her eyes have nothing but direction in them. This time, she’s not just ordering me, she’s owning me. And this time, I’m not going to hesitate.
“I have another secret for you.”
Breathes from her needy lips before she pulls mine between them. Before she nips at my bottom one, already swollen and bruised and somehow never feeling better. Nails digging down my back, and I've never felt more alive. Moaning inside my whimpers, she wraps her strong arm around my back, and pushes her leg between mine, right into the heat of my need.
I’m on my back again before I realize it, with her hands tangling my every nerve, fingers tying them with desperate grazes below my breasts and across my ribs. Within seconds she’s sliding down my body, meeting my bare breasts with her lips.
“Mine.”
Puffs against my chest, before her lips claim what she’s already claimed out loud. Her mouth takes what is hers. What’s always been hers.
Her tongue sweeps over and over my burning skin, again and again. This feels so good. Too good to be real. She feels so good. She feels too real to be real. And even though we’re not sleeping, it still feels like we’re dreaming. We’re still so far inside our dreams. We’re living inside them. We’re breathing and kissing and thrusting inside all our safe secret places.
And I wonder.
I wonder how long before we wake up.
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Standing in my bra and jeans, I pretend to look for something to wear, while my mind drifts to faraway places. Places from this morning. Places that feel like a dream. I'm still trapped inside my morning memories of Ashley. Instead of reaching for clothes, my fingers trace the bruises across my chest, reliving the way I received them.
I swear my heart can feel the marks Ashley kissed above it. The internal tattoos she's branded me with.
“Going somewhere?”
I nearly jump into the ceiling from fright, as Madison laughs lightly from my open door. As Madison laughs in a way that doesn’t feel very funny.
“Um...” I quickly turn, hiding my hickey covered chest, looking for a shirt, any shirt to cover up with, “...yeah, I mean, no.” Completely distracted inside my sea of old tees and guilty memories, I roughly throw on the first shirt I can grab.
“Well, which one is it?”
She sounds very pissed off. And I don’t blame her. We haven’t spoken since Saturday night. -- a.k.a, the night before I crossed a life changing line. The night my life went from innocent to guilty.
The night my life began.
Turning around, slowly, with rightful trepidation, I face her leaning-against-the-doorway-frame body. Arms crossed, in her classic unapologetic Madison pose.
Utterly lost, I naively utter, “Which one is what?”
“Are you going out or not?” She doesn’t even make it sound like a question, before she looks me over, “And your shirt's inside out.”
My cheeks blaze with a feeling so far from the last time they blazed. Burning with the direct opposite feeling from the heated passion Ashley can only make me feel.
And now I’m blushing even more, threatening to self combust, cause now all I can think of is Ashley's heated passion.
“Oh, right. ” Laughing nervously, I quickly glance down at my extruding seams shirt, before I completely ignore it and move on, “I’m just going over Ashley's.”
“Ashley's, huh?”
Oh. Shit.
Madison's mouth opens crookedly, teeth ready to claim her bottom lip between them. I swear she’s one second from a quirked eyebrow. She’s one second from pushing me where I really don’t want to go.
She’s one second from shaking me from my dreams. Ripping me awake.
“Yup.”
I try and act cool, walking to my dresser fumbling with my earrings. Fumbling with anything to keep my hands busy, and my eyes occupied.
“Her cars been here a lot, has she...” For once Madison doesn’t sound like she’s owed every one of my deepest secrets, for once Madison sounds only like a true friend, “...has she been spending the night?”
I gulp the thickest “fuck” gulp of my life. How does she know Ashley was here? Madison wasn't even here. I was sure of it. So sure she was over Jack's. So sure she was avoiding me and this apartment. I had to be in order to have the sex I was having. The wild, loud, unabashed fucking I was doing.
And now, with her looking at me, with not an ounce of bullshit, I'm not sure. I'm so far from sure and I only have one second to think of a lie and commit to it. One second before my silence screams infidelity.
“Yeah. I mean, just the past two nights. When Glen is away, she gets all kinds of freaked out. You know how big of a wuss that girl is.”
I breathe out, wiping away a thin unbelievable sheen of sweat from my forehead. I’m fucking on fire inside this drafty room.
And then there's nothing. Nothing but a moment of stillness. Pure quietness. A shifting moment of silence. And I swear I can hear her letting it go. I swear I hear her sighing behind me, as if she were giving in.
“Yeah, I do.” Sounding genuine and discouraged, she continues so soft, “It's nice of you to be there for her." Taking a deep breath, she pauses as if to debate something, "You know, she’s lucky to have you Spence.”
Her words are quiet and sincere, and they kind of make my heart ache. Because it feels like she doesn’t need me to give her my secrets. It feels like she already knows them. And whether she really does or not, I almost feel relieved.
Because with those few simple words, she’s made me feel ok.
“I guess.” Mumbles from my moved mouth, screams inside my aching heart, as I finally turn back around to face her. No longer afraid.
Finally apologetic.
“I’m sorry, Mads.”
She doesn’t even blink an eye. She doesn’t hesitate in warmly answering. "I know.”
I sigh. “No, I was the biggest bitch to you the other night, when you were only being a good friend. My best friend. So really, I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry too.”
She didn’t have to say it. Truthfully, she didn’t have any reason to, but she did anyway. Because she knows I needed it. She knows it’s her way of saying you never have to be sorry.
“I’m always here for you, Spencer. You can come to me whenever and where ever, if there’s anything you need to talk about.” She finally walks inside my room, my tainted room. “You have to know that, ok? Please, tell me you know that.”
I nod weakly, feeling so awful for lying to her. For lying to everyone.
For lying to myself for longer than I can remember.
“I know.”
She waits a beat, as if this room and this moment might be the time I come to her. I might just listen to her and tell her everything I need to talk about.
But it’s not that time. It’s not that moment. You and I both know that.
And so does she.
“Good.”
Relieves from her chest along with a long sigh, before she wraps me in a hug. Holding me as she morphs into full Madison mode. “Now take off this dish rag, and put on that button down I like so much.”
Releasing me from her bear hug, she smiles at me suggestively. Realistically. And I feel my insides burning with fear of being found out once more.
“I’m just going to Ashley's. No big deal. Nothing worth getting dressed up for.”
I somehow say this with a straight believable face.
But she’s not believing it.
With an amused laugh, she rolls her eyes. “Sure, yeah, ok, whatever you say.” Shrugging somewhat condescendingly, “I just don’t want you leaving the house looking like you don’t have one to come back to."
I want to give her a witty comeback to her crafty remark, but words escape me. Sarcasm kind of loses its appeal and point when the person you’re hiding from sees through it. When that person sees everything below the lies.
When that person is your best friend. And in this very moment, you realize that best friend has you figured out. That best friend, leaving you to drown inside the caving walls of your room, knows everything.
And suddenly, my dreaming morning memory world doesn’t feel so real.
Suddenly, reality feels so real.
Too real to be true.
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Chapter Seventeen :: The Music Room