13. All Good Sides
Finn
After the bat scare, Courtney and I mutually agreed that it was time to end the night. After retrieving our blankets from downstairs, I found Courtney had retreated to her en suite to begin her skincare routine.
I lean against the door frame, just out of sight, and watch her reflection pat her bare face dry before she begins to massage retinal into her beautiful sun-kissed skin. It seems like a tantalizing, multi-step process, and yet, there is such beauty in watching her do something so mundane. It’s like watching a doe graze in a meadow; there’s nothing particularly exciting happening, but being so close to such a beautiful and skittish creature is exhilarating enough.
I’m falling for Courtney much harder and faster than I had previously imagined even to be possible; I’ve never felt this hopelessly lost for any woman before. It feels like the more I try to suppress my feelings, the deeper I’m sucked into them, like fighting quicksand. The more I try to remind myself of the reasons why I can’t keep Courtney, the less and less memorable those reasons become. I silently step away from the door with a head full of regret and take a seat on the edge of her mattress that is lying unceremoniously on the floor. I close my eyes, envisioning a life where I end each day watching Courtney complete her captivating regimen and pull her into bed with me right after, the two of us drifting off to sleep together with my arms wrapped around her. A life that I know is out of reach.
How different things could have been between us if I were an honest man, if I didn’t have the fate of an entire town riding on my shoulders, and if lying to Courtney wasn’t the damn key to solving it all. But it doesn’t hurt to pretend I’m worthy of Courtney for a little while longer. Does it? I’ll find a way to tell her the truth somehow when the time is right. She deserves that and so much more yet I’m too selfish to do it now, just as she’s starting to warm up to me and her hard facade is beginning to lower, it’s too soon.
Since the moment I met Courtney at Mystic Brew, she’s been my first thought in the morning and my last thought before sleep overtakes me each night. The fruity scent of her hair, the galvanic feel of her skin on mine, the way she would fit perfectly in my arms. It all feels as if I’ve already known her forever, and the magnetic pull between us only reinforces the ridiculous notion that it was love at first sight with her.
“Bathroom’s all yours if you need it,” Courtney emerges from the en suite wearing fuzzy pink pajama pants and a thin tank top that clings to her perky breasts. My throat dries as my gaze peruses her gorgeous figure, getting stuck on the two pebbled peaks below her shirt. I snap my eyes back to hers as quickly as I can but it’s too late, the subtle blush on her tan cheeks tells me she caught me staring.
“I know it’s a big leap from going to dinner together to sharing a bed. If you’re uncomfortable, and I mean at all, I have no issue leaving.” I offer her a final excuse to kick me out, searching her face for even the smallest sign of hesitation. Courtney is offering me a place to stay out of the kindness of her heart and to allow myself to sleep beside her; feeling the way I do feels like taking advantage of that kindness. She shakes her head fervently, sending her caramel tresses sweeping her shoulders.
“I’m not uncomfortable, Finn,” She dismisses my offer, her doe-like eyes searching the room for something. “I’ll sleep below the covers, and you sleep on top. It won’t be weird. It’s like a sleepover. Here.” She reassures me as her sight lands on a thick blanket resting atop a suitcase in the corner of the room.
“Use this one; it’s my favorite.” Courtney struggles to fit the entirety of the heavy brown blanket in her arms as she carries it to me, dropping it in my lap. She pauses momentarily, regarding the spot where she had just dumped the blanket. I freeze as she does. Admittedly, a little blood had rushed south upon seeing her in her pajamas, leaving me silently praying she hadn’t noticed the bulging below my zipper.
“You’re wearing jeans.”
“Yes..” I respond, unsure of the meaning behind her words, hoping that her seemingly out-of-place statement has nothing to do with me sailing at half mast.
“I’ll find you something more comfortable.” She blinks a few times before toddling off to another suitcase tucked inside her closet. I let out a small sigh of relief, conscious of how narrowly I avoided an awkward conversation.
“I don’t think we’re the same size,” She jokes as she digs through her luggage, examining each pair of bottoms as she goes.
I watch as she does, comprehension dawning on me as she carefully inspects each piece of clothing. She’s distracting herself. From what, I’m not exactly sure, but the way she takes her time with each article of clothing tells me she’s trying to keep her thoughts preoccupied.
I tilt my head in contemplation as she casts the suitcase aside, starting to ruffle through another. She refuses to let her eyes stray, keeping them glued on the task before her. I crease my brow as I study her. Is my presence what she needs distraction from? The idea causes a warmth to radiate from within me and a festering heat begins to settle low in my stomach. One that I quickly attempt to dowse.
I hold the blanket tighter against myself as I feel my cock begin to lengthen; I can’t allow myself to get excited when I know I’m supposed to be platonically sleeping beside her in mere moments. But if there are signs that she reciprocates my feelings, I can’t help but be enthralled.
Courtney hesitantly dips her hand into her luggage, pulling out a pair of light gray sweatpants that look to be made of cashmere or some other similarly expensive fabric. She turns them over in her small hands, a glint of unreadable emotion dancing across her eyes before she passes them to me.
“These might fit,” she offers, trying to keep her tone light despite the tightness in her throat.
I silently take them from her, holding them out in front of me as I inspect them, my jaw clenching as I do. These are men’s pants, it’s clear from their size and cut and the thought of Courtney having another man’s pants sends a small stream of unwarranted jealousy trickling into my system. I don’t let Courtney see my discontent, however. What right do I have to her?
I hold the sweatpants up in front of her and squint one eye, comparing the size of the pants to her small frame, playfully letting her know that I know they don’t belong to her.
“You sure their owner won’t mind me borrowing them?” I pry slightly, keeping my tone casual and light. I have no right to her but I do have morbid curiosity and maybe some masochistic tendencies.
“I’m sure.” She answers shortly as she turns her back to me, giving me privacy to change into the pants. I rise to my feet and unzip my jeans, allowing them to fall to the ground beside the unframed mattress. I step out of them and pull the cushy cashmere sweats up to replace them, looking quite ridiculous in my button-up shirt and sweatpants. Courtney turns once she’s sure I’m decent and pauses at the sight of the pants.
“They look good on you.” Is all she offers before crawling onto her side of the bed. “Will you hit the light?”
“Of course.” I flick the light switch off, immersing the room in shadow. I tenderly find my place on the bed beside her, making sure not to brush my skin against hers as I pull the brown blanket over my long torso.
In the faint light provided by the moon, I can discern Courtney’s beautiful face. She looks deep in thought as she stares up at the ceiling. Is she thinking about the original owner of these sweatpants? Jealousy rushes in once again at the thought. I prop myself up on an elbow and turn in Courtney’s direction.
“Tell me about Mr. Sweatpants,” the words leave my mouth before I have the chance to vet them. This is way overstepping and I know it. This isn’t a topic I would normally broach but I have to know. Some weird part of me feels like I’m competing with this mystery man, and knowing more about him will decipher my chances.
Courtney’s bark brown eyes find mine in the darkness. Even in the faint moonlight, I can tell her expression is one of surprise. If she doesn’t want to answer, I’ll understand, but a little piece of me will never be satisfied if I don’t ask.
Instead of telling me to mind my own damn business, like I thought she might have, Courtney takes in a contemplative breath.
“We were seeing each other for a while. A long while.”
Envy trickles into my chest cavity as she confirms what I had already assumed. Courtney had dated a sweatpants guy and, from her sad tone, it seemed he had hurt her. We sit in brief silence as she decides how much of the story she wants to tell me. I allow her all the time she needs.
“I only saw the parts of him that I wanted to and because of that, I overlooked the bad parts. Eventually, he forced me to see who he really was and it was almost entirely bad. Scratch that, it was entirely bad—manipulative parts, image-obsessed parts.”
Hearing the hurt in Courtney’s voice has the same effect on me as if someone were to pinch off the blood supply to my aorta. Pain cramps in my chest, and at the moment, I’m overrun with the desire to pull Courtney into my chest and comfort her any way I know how. Simultaneously, I feel my jealousy melt into guilt for forcing her to relive and explain a traumatic part of her love life, and even more guilt mounts as I consider her words. Manipulative, that’s exactly what I am. If Courtney knew the truth about me, would she believe that I’m made of entirely bad parts, too? I know I am; I must be if I’m willing to manipulate her to get something I need.
“I’ll never let a guy deceive me like that ever again. Next time I let myself fall for a man, it’ll be for a man with all good sides.” Her eyes are on me once again but this time they feel like they’re burning holes into me. The guilt causes my stomach to flip in a truly unpleasant manner. If she looks too hard will she be able to see I’m not that guy? Will she be able to see that I want to be?
“You said the next time you let yourself fall,” I repeat.
“Mhm,” she nods her head, a yawn falling from her full lips. I hold my breath as I ask my next question.
“Does that mean you’re not falling right now?”
Her lips part in hesitation and her eyes widen slightly but she gives no answer, shocked into silence. I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste iron, my heart hitching on its beat.
“Goodnight, mayor.” Is all she offers before rolling over, absconding my view of her face.
“Goodnight,” I say quietly, spending the remainder of the night reflecting on the massive hole I’ve dug myself into. Courtney had been burned by the men of her past, which explained her original cold demeanor towards me and her drive to keep me away.
I don’t want to hurt her like they had but I already have, whether she knows it or not. I’ve befriended her with ulterior motives and though everything since then has been genuine, she’ll never be able to see that once she knows the truth and I can’t fault her for it. From the moment I sent her that first email I soiled my chance to be a man that is good enough for Courtney Berrycloth.
Yet, for some reason, knowing all that isn’t enough to stop me from trying to be.