16. Avery
16
AVERY
W hen I heard the footsteps, I thought Wesley had come home. My head spun with the idea that the fantasy Phillip had spun me was about to come true. Just the thought of it pushed me over the edge.
When I heard Jamie’s voice, the entire world shattered.
He’s leaning against the doorway casually, but the tight set of his shoulders tells the truth about how he’s really feeling. If Phillip was right and Jamie had feelings for me, they were most definitely gone now.
But what if they’re not gone? What if he likes to share too?
I reject that thought out of hand. There is absolutely no way that would ever happen. It’s rare enough to find two men willing to share a woman—if Phillip had even been telling me the truth—but three men?
That sort of thing only happens in romance novels and only to far better looking women than me.
I sneak another peek at Jamie, trying to gauge how he’s feeling. His face is professionally polite, like it always is, but the vein on the side of his neck looks like it’s about to burst out of his skin.
He’s definitely angry with me—probably disgusted, too.
My body starts shaking uncontrollably, and I bury my face in Phillip’s shoulder so I don’t have to look at Jamie one second longer.
“We’re going into the living room so you can have privacy to cover up again. Right, Jamie?”
It’s more threat than question, but Jamie still responds like they’re having a nice little chat about the weather.
“Of course, and once everyone is” —he clears his throat pointedly— “more composed, we can all discuss this situation together in the living room.”
Fantastic. More humiliation. That’s exactly what I need right now.
“He’s gone now, Avery,” Phillip says after a moment.
“I appreciate your keeping me covered. I’m sure it was awkward continuing to hold me against you like that.”
“If it made you feel safer, I’d do it again a thousand times over,” he says, untangling himself from me. “I’m going to head into the living room now to let you cover up in peace. There’s a half bath just there, in case you didn’t know.”
He points to a door that I had assumed was a second pantry.
I can’t get to my clothes from last night without going through the living room, so I’m stuck with just this shirt. I’d prefer something with more coverage, but there’s nothing I can do about that now. Still, just the prospect of having a windowless room that I can lock myself in while I gather my composure has me near tears with relief.
As if he can read my mind, Phillip slips his cotton jacket off his shoulders and offers it to me. I clutch it against my chest gratefully.
“I’ve got about a foot or so on Wesley, so this should give you a little more coverage. The fact that it has a zipper probably helps too. I’m sure you’re feeling vulnerable and out of control, so being able to control even something as small as a zipper might help regulate things a bit.”
I’m not sure if the sound that comes out of my mouth just now is a sob or a laugh.
Both, maybe?
“Are you seriously doing the therapist thing on me right now?”
He shrugs. “Force of habit. You didn’t say I was wrong, though.”
I shake my head at him. “Does this really strike you as the time to do a therapy session on me?”
“Any time is the right time for therapy.”
I can’t help but laugh at the earnestness of his voice. When I do, I notice his eyes seem to glimmer with satisfaction.
“Stop using your mental health witchery on me and go so I can get cleaned up.”
He cups my cheek in his hand. “Did it help?”
“A little bit.”
“Good.”
He gently kisses my forehead then heads off to the living room.
I take my sweet time cleaning up in the bathroom. I’ve got half a mind to never come out with the way everything went today.
Had Phillip been lying about sharing women with Wesley?
I think back to the look on his face. There hadn’t been a trace of anything manipulative or calculating, but rather a look of earnestness and arousal.
If I’m not mistaken, he likes being watched just as much as I apparently do.
Exhibitionism was another one of those things where I’d read about it and been curious but never had any practical experience with until now. Much like the spanking bench from last night, now that I’ve had a taste of it, I don’t think I can ever go back to only having boring old vanilla sex.
If things end now—which I suspect they might—Phillip and Wesley have set a high bar for anyone who comes next.
My only hopes now are that I’m not responsible for driving a wedge in their friendship and that Jamie doesn’t hate me forever. That would really make classes more awkward.
But him seeing you have a toe curling, screaming orgasm on his best friend’s kitchen counter isn’t awkward? Girl, you really need to reevaluate your priorities.
I’ve completely run out of ways to stall my exit from the bathroom. Unless I want to do everything twice or camp out in here with no phone, I’m all out of options.
It’s the lack of a phone that lures me out of my hiding place in the end. I sigh with relief when I ease open the door and see it there on the counter.
I can hear their muffled voices from the adjoining living room.
I have to know what they’re saying, but I’m worried if they hear me coming they’ll probably censor themselves in a misguided attempt not to upset me. If I’ve learned anything from living with Kyle, it’s the more information I have, the safer I am.
Fortunately, with the kitchen’s layout, they won’t be able to see me at all until I’m practically standing in the doorway. Still, I’ll have to be sneaky.
I raise up on the balls of my feet and creep silently out to retrieve my phone. By the time I get it and stuff it into the jacket pocket, they still haven’t indicated they’ve heard me. I decide to press my luck and get as close to the doorway as I dare.
“You’re beating a dead horse,” Phillip says, exasperated. “I get it. I would have been caught off guard too, but it’s not the strangest thing we’ve ever seen in that kitchen.”
“Coming in to see you fucking our student on the kitchen island is not even close to the same thing as walking in on Wesley attempting to suspend shrimp in lime Jell-O. Do you have any idea what a massive mistake you’re making here? If any of this gets back to the university, you’re screwed. You’ll never be invited back. And for what? A roll in the sheets with someone young enough to be your daughter. I expected you to have more sense. Both you and Wesley should be ashamed of yourselves.”
Rationally, I know it takes two people to make a decision. Unfortunately, that knowledge pales against the overwhelming certainty that this is all my fault. I should have put a stop to this. It’s my responsibility to save them from themselves.
Jamie’s completely right. I am something to be ashamed of.
I can’t be in this house one second longer.
The French doors seem to gleam like a beacon of hope. If I leave there, I can go out the gate and be on the street waiting for my taxi before they even realize I’m gone. I won’t be able to shower or even get my clothes, but I won’t have to face any of them again.
Then as soon as the registrar’s office opens, I can request new teachers and I can put this horrible situation behind me.
How do you expect to do that without getting them or yourself in trouble?
Scheduling concerns.
Yes, that’s it. I’ll tell them that my son and my job are making it difficult to make these meetings and it will be easiest for me to switch to teachers with more open availability. They’ll buy that.
Speaking of buying, you’re going to have to get Mia a replacement dress.
I add that to my list too.
Okay, the taxi will be here in—I check my phone—less than two minutes.
Then it hits me like a ton of bricks.
My purse is on the table by the door. I need my license to get to work tomorrow.
Shit.
Besides my phone, that is the one thing I cannot leave here without.
Okay. You can do this. You’re going to run in there, grab the purse, and be out the door before they can even process what you did. Here we go.
I try to make my body move, but it doesn’t listen.
You’re nervous. That’s okay. How about on the count of three?
I lower my heels so my feet are flat on the floor.
One.
I take a deep breath.
Two.
I stuff down the tendrils of panic writhing inside me.
Three.
I race through the living room so fast everything seems to blur. I grab my purse and open the front door in one fluid motion.
Their shouts of concern follow me out the door and down the street as I run. A glance back over my shoulder tells me they’re at the doorway now.
“Avery, what are you doing?”
“Come back here. We need to talk.”
Their voices keep getting closer.
Damn it.
I hadn’t counted on them chasing after me. I’d assumed they wouldn’t want to make a scene. Both of them are bigger than me and probably faster. They could catch me easily.
Maybe I’m a coward, but I have no plans to sit in that living room and be told to my face that I’m trash and they never want to see me again.
Where is that car? It’s supposed to be here by now.
Miracles do happen after all because as soon as that thought pops in my brain, my taxi rounds the corner of the street.
I chance a glance back. I’ve got about half a block on them but they’re closing that distance fast.
Anxiety gives me the kick of speed I need. I race toward the taxi, flailing my arms and praying that it stops.
The driver slows to a crawl and rolls down his window.
“Can I help you?” he asks warily.
“I’m Avery. I ordered the taxi. I need to get out of here. Right now.”
I glance over my shoulder at the men who are getting closer every second. He follows my gaze, and his brows knit with concern when he sees Phillip and Jamie.
“Get in.”
I dive into the backseat. Before I can even get my seatbelt on, he pulls a U turn so fast the tires squeal. We’re out of that cul-de-sac in record time.
He’s quiet for the first chunk of the trip, but once my breathing goes back to normal, he breaks the silence.
“Miss, are you okay? Do you need me to call the police or take you to the station instead of going home?”
His words squeeze my heart.
Too many people in my life had seen the bruises and said nothing. Out of all the people I’d been around back then, only three of them cared enough to try and help me.
To say that soured my view of humanity would be a gross understatement.
Then there’s the matter of this man. He had seen two men chasing me down the street and had taken in how disheveled I was when he picked me up. Instead of filing that away under “not my problem”, here he is asking if I’m okay and offering to help me.
Maybe things aren’t so horrible, after all.
“I’m okay. Neither of them would hurt me.”
The look he gives me via the rearview mirror has me wanting to confess all my sins to him.
“Certainly didn’t look that way to me.”
“It’s just a really embarrassing story.”
“Your secret is safe with me—cabbie/passenger privilege, you know?”
I sigh. “Well, we were right in the middle of…”
“Activities?”
“Yes.” I nod. “Let’s go with that. So we were in the kitchen—the darker-haired man and I—and we were right in the middle of activities and Jamie, the more silvery-haired guy, walks right into the house and gets a full view of everything.”
“Oh, that’s bad,” he says sympathetically. “But how did that turn into you running down the street with them chasing after you?”
“Well, they gave me some privacy to cover up and I overheard what Jamie was saying about me and what he saw. All I’ll say about that is that none of it was very nice. I was already embarrassed and more than a little humiliated, and that was the last straw. I sure as hell wasn’t going to sit down with them and talk things through after I’d heard all that. So I panicked and ran.”
“But nobody hurt you?” he asks.
“Aside from my feelings and my pride, no.”
“Good.”
“You know, not many people would care that much. Thank you.”
His shoulders sag. “I was halfway across the country when my sister got mugged on a trip to the city. I wasn’t there for her, so I figured I could make it up to her by being there for someone else.”
“Is she alright now?”
“She is.”
When we pull up to my building, I give him a hefty tip and thank him again.
I unlock the front door of my building and groan when I see all the steps I have to walk up. There’s only three floors, so the builders didn’t see the need for an elevator. Most of the time, I don’t mind, but today, I’d rather walk on hot coals than deal with all these steps.
At least today’s my day off.
Any hopes of Leo still being asleep are dashed when I walk in and see Leo in his high chair shoving pancake pieces in his mouth.
“Well, you certainly look like you had a good night.” Mom winks.
Heat rises to my face. “I?—”
“It’s about time, Missy. Good for you.”
“Thank you?”
I make my way over to give Leo a kiss, but as soon as he gets a full view of me, he scowls.
“No kiss. I’m mad.”
“Why are you mad, Leo?”
I turn to my mother. “What’s going on?”
“I have no idea. He was fine before you got here.” She shrugs.
“What is it, Little Bug?”
He points aggressively at my bare legs. “No fair.”
Of course that’s the first thing he noticed.
His little face gets redder and redder. Pancake pieces start flying.
“No fair. No fair. No fair,” he howls.
Mom shoots me a quizzical look.
“Leo has recently decided that the best way to be outside is to be stark naked from the waist down.” I groan. “It has been an absolute fight keeping his clothes on outside.”
“I see.”
She catches my arm as I turn back to manage Leo. “I’ve got this. Why don’t you go shower and get changed? You smell like a nightclub.”
“I owe you big time.”
“How about a lunch date?”
“Absolutely.”
When I pull out my phone to put on some music for my shower, there’s a text from Wesley.
It had seemed like a good idea to give him my number last night, but now I’m seriously regretting it.
Might as well just get it over with.
Wesley—They just told me what happened and what you might have overheard. I’m so sorry things happened that way. Can we come over tonight and talk this through? Please, I don’t want things to end like this.