Chapter 14 #2
She’s wiping off her hands when I get a good look at her computer. Jesus, this thing has gotta be at least fifteen years old.
I gently tap the top of her screen. “Can I ask what you’re writing?”
She chokes a little on her water. “Um, a novel. Hopefully.”
“What kind of novel?”
“Romance.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Romance?”
She wobbles her head back and forth, like she’s thinking of saying something else, so I patiently wait for her to continue. She takes another sip of water, and a droplet falls from the corner of her mouth, and onto her chest, slowly creating a small rivulet that disappears between her breasts.
I follow it all the way down until it disappears behind her shirt, and I want to dive in after it.
“Paranormal romance,” she says, picking at the sticker on her water bottle. I can see color on her cheeks, and my eyebrows raise higher.
“Paranormal Romance?” I question further.
She finally looks at me, irritation written on her face.
“Yes. Paranormal Romance, it’s kind of like monster romance, but-”
“Monster romance?”
“Do you have a problem with that?”
“No, no. Sorry, I’m not judging you. I just have no idea what that means,” I concede. I’m not teasing her, I’m just not a reader.
The tension seems to leave her shoulders, then she looks at me and explains, “Paranormal romance. It’s like fantasy. Like, vampires, werewolves, ghosts. Monster romance is like orcs, aliens, gargoyles. You know? That kind of thing,” she rattles off, completely casual.
I don’t reply at first, I just look at her, unblinking. She’s smiling at me, eyes twinkling in amusement, like she knows she broke my brain, and is loving it.
“Sorry… Did you just fucking say gargoyles?” I ask.
She throws her head back and laughs, covering her mouth in attempts to stifle the sound.
“Ugh, you’re such a boy. You wouldn’t understand,” she says through a giggle.
“I think you might be right.” I give her a small smile. “But explain it to me. You’re writing this book, and then what?”
She tucks her hair behind her ear, going shy again. “Well, if I think it’s good enough, I’ll hopefully publish it. If not, I’ll try again. I’ve always wanted to write, so I’m giving it a shot,” she says quietly.
Oh.
“That’s really cool, Ivy,” I tell her earnestly, nudging her leg with mine.
She whips her head to me, eyes searching.
For what? To see if I’m teasing her?
“I’m serious. It’s brave to put yourself out in the world like that. I don’t know a lot about books, but I know that that takes courage. Regardless of who or what is fucking in it.” Now I let my smile turn teasing.
She rewards me with a laugh, and lightly shoves at my shoulder.
“Shut up. And thank you,” she says gently. Maybe she needed to hear that.
“Sarah was a reader,” I blurt, out of nowhere.
She meets my eye. “Really? What did she read?”
“Romance. Some thrillers.” She nods. I can tell she wants to ask more, so I give her a little more. “She read for as long as I can remember. She’d bring a book to the lake, to parties, to Thanksgiving dinner.” My throat suddenly feels tight, so I clear it.
“What was she like?” Ivy asks quietly.
I smile, looking down at my hands. “Fun, outspoken, a little weird, quirky… everyone loved her.”
“Sounds familiar.” She nudges my elbow with hers, and I huff a laugh, knowing she’s referring to Delilah.
“We were best friends since we were ten. Everyone always assumed we were more than that, but we weren’t.
It just wasn't like that. We loved each other, sure, but it was never romantic,” I say, then turn my head back to Ivy.
“No one ever believed us, but they also didn't know that we both liked girls.” The corner of my mouth lifts as the waves of nostalgia hit me.
“Oh, shit,” Ivy responds, lightly giggling.
I shrug. “She came out to me as bi in highschool, but I always knew. She had a few boyfriends, but she always preferred women.”
“Well… how did Delilah happen then?” she asks, not rudely just genuinely curious.
I snort and shake my head. “Too much alcohol. Her girlfriend and her had just broken up. I hadn’t been with anyone in months, and was just feeling lonely.
We pretty much agreed to scratch the itch with each other,” I admit, wincing before continuing.
“The most awkward sex of my entire life.” Ivy erupts, covering her mouth to stifle her laughter.
“It was terrible,” I say through a laugh.
“Six weeks later she came banging on my door with a positive pregnancy test.”
“Oh my god. What did you say?” Ivy asks through her palm.
“I didn’t. I just looked at it and laughed. Then she laughed. For a long time. Then we agreed to have a baby together. Raise her together. As best friends. Partners.” My voice cracks on the last word.
Ivy places her hand over mine, squeezing lightly. I take a chance, gently interlacing our fingers, and she lets me.
“She had a heart attack after giving birth to Delilah. She got to hold her and feed her and love her for two days. But I left that hospital without her,” I say, my voice hoarse.
“Oh, Wes. I– ” I hear a sniff, and look over to see a tear running down Ivy’s cheek.
I reach my other hand up to swipe it away with the pad of my thumb.
“Sarah would’ve loved you,” I tell her honestly.
Ivy gives me a watery smile. “I’m really sorry, Wesley. For you and Delilah.”
“Me too.” I let out a long sigh, trying to shake the heartache I’m guaranteed to feel whenever I talk about Sarah, which is rarely ever.
“She would’ve loved your paranormal smut too.” I give her a big grin, trying to add levity to the heavy conversation.
Ivy snorts. “She totally would. I’ve got some good material.”
Our fingers are still laced together, and her palm squeezes mine, still trying to comfort me.
God, I like her.
I squeeze back.
“Oh yeah?” I lean my head against the headboard, and gesture to her laptop on the bed in between us. “Let’s hear it.”
She scoffs. “Please. You couldn’t handle it.”
“Try me.”
She worries her bottom lip, like she’s deciding whether or not she's comfortable enough to be vulnerable with me.
“Whatever. You’re not my target audience anyway.”
She pulls her hand from mine to grab her computer, and I feel the loss of her warmth immediately. She plops the computer in my lap, and scrolls up several pages.
“I’ve been trying to work out this sex scene, and I think I’ve just about got it. But it’s still a work in progress,” she rushes out, blushing.
I feel my lips quirk, and nod. “Okay.”
I reluctantly pull my gaze from Ivy, and focus on the screen, beginning to read.
I catch on quickly from context clues, and get swept up in the scene right away.
My eyes devour every single word, but all too soon, the text ends.
I stop reading at the blinking cursor, and slowly close the laptop, not saying a word.
Woah.
I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that.
“What? You hated it?” she asks with a concerned expression. “You know what, you have to be a paranormal smut fan. More specifically a vampire smut fan and into blood play…” she trails off and rises from her seated position to kneel beside me, trying to snatch her computer from me.
I wrap my fingers around her delicate wrist to stop her. “Don’t,” I say, and press my back into the headboard, willing my body to relax.
“What?” she barks, attitude boiling over.
“Give me a minute,” I grit out, and her brows lower.
Then it clicks, and her face relaxes for a moment, before she smiles an evil smile that should be only reserved for manic scientists and the Grinch.
I try to think of unsexy things to will my erection away, but it’s impossible in Ivy’s presence. She’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on, and the fact that her mind came up with what I just read, has me nearly coming undone.
“So you liked it then?” she taunts, arching an eyebrow. “Honestly that’s the best compliment you could’ve given me.” She brushes imaginary dust off of her shoulders.
Fuck, she’s cute. Not helping.
I know I’m not an avid reader, but I’m impressed by what I just read nonetheless. It makes her that much more attractive. She’s smart, and funny, and for the life of me, I can’t get her out of my head.
She’s wearing that fucking grey tank top that showcases her piercings, and the tiniest cotton shorts on planet earth, making it impossible to push my arousal down.
“Yeah, Ivy. I liked it,” I breathe out.
Our eyes lock, and no one speaks for several seconds. Looking down, I realize I still have a faint grip on her wrist. My body moves on its own accord, lightly pulling her closer to me.
She looks down at where I tugged on her, then back up to my eyes. “What’re you doing?” she asks softly, voice just above a whisper.
“I don’t know,” I whisper back. “Tell me to stop.” My voice is low, almost tortured.
She doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, then breathes, “No.”
Seeing Ivy with Delilah today pushed me to my breaking point. The matching outfits, the swimming, the giggling, the love I saw in Ivy’s eyes when looking at my daughter.
She’s sweet, and bold, and clever. Her smart-ass mouth keeps me on my toes.
I can’t take it anymore. I’ve done everything in my power to resist her and nothing works.
I pull her in a bit closer and slowly lift my other hand to brush her long hair behind her shoulder.
I carefully trace her jawline with my knuckles, and her breath catches.
“Wesley…” she quietly questions again, still kneeling beside me, but starting to lean over me as a result of my pulling.
“Tell me to stop,” I demand again.
I lift both of my hands to her face now, and cradle her head in between my palms, threading my fingers through her silky, damp hair. I tug gently to tilt her head back, and she licks that bottom lip I’ve dreamed about since the day I met her.
My eyes bounce between hers, looking for any hesitation.
She attempts to shake her head in my grasp. “Don’t stop,” she pleads.