Chapter 22 Lucy #2
The words start to pour out of me, and before I know it, I’ve written one of the longest stories in a while. I reread the article and feel like I have something here, but I’m not sure if I should publish it.
I have Jonah read it while we sit outside in the courtyard at lunch. The entire time I’m holding my breath, anticipating his thoughts.
“Lucy,” he breathes out, and his gaze averts from his laptop to me. “This is great. You should absolutely publish it.”
“Really?” My eyes light up. “It’s not too…much?”
“Too much of what?” Jonah asks. “It’s honest, it’s insightful, it’s what your readers would want.”
“But what about Marsh?” I ask, wondering if writing about him after last night feels like I’m crossing some sort of line.
“I mean, you’re not using his name.”
“Yeah but…it would be weird if he read it.”
Jonah narrows his gaze at me. “Luce, how honest is this piece?”
“It’s fictionalized a little.” I shrug.
“By how much?” He raises an eyebrow.
“Okay, fine, it’s all true,” I say.
“Luce,” Jonah says, “look, I’ve had my trepidations about this whole arrangement but…if what you wrote is true then what are you doing?”
“That’s beside the point.” I draw back knowing that Jonah just doesn’t understand.
“Forget about your views on relationships, okay?” Jonah says. “If you feel this way about him, he deserves to be told. You clearly care about him and you’re just going to let him live the rest of his life thinking you don’t care? And for what?”
Jonah’s words sit with me. I’m not sure why I find the whole concept of being honest difficult. It’s almost like I don’t want Marsh to see me as someone who has feelings, someone who has a heart. Because then that means I have something that could break.
That’s the scary part about all of this. I am human. I’m not unbreakable. I’m just not sure if I want to admit it to Marsh…or myself.
It takes me circling Marsh’s block approximately six times and sitting in my car for another forty minutes until I have the nerve to get out.
Mustering up the courage, I walk to his front porch, clocking his black Bronco in the driveway.
It takes about twenty or so seconds after I ring the bell for him to open the door.
Seeing him feels like I got the wind knocked out of me.
It’s only been twenty-four hours, and I miss him. How do I miss him?
“Hey,” I say.
Hey? God, I sound pathetic.
He looks past me to our surroundings, concerned. “Is everything okay?”
“Can I come inside?” I ask and he doesn’t say anything. Just opens the door wider to let me in. “I think we need to talk about last night.”
“Okay.” Marsh closes the door behind him. His demeanor feels a little different, like he’s putting his guard up in a way that he hasn’t done with me before. From the moment I met him it felt like he trusted me. Now he’s looking at me like I’m someone who could hurt him…someone who has hurt him.
I play with the sleeves of my sweater. “I can’t stop thinking about last night.”
There’s a sigh that releases from him. “Me too.”
“I don’t like how we ended that conversation and I want to apologize.”
“You don’t have anything to apologize for, Lucy.”
“No, I do,” I insist, making sure I say all the things that I rehearsed in the car.
“Because you asked me a question and the least I could have done was answer it honestly. The other night meant something to me, Marsh. I felt closer to you in a way that I haven’t felt to anyone before…
and that terrified the fuck out of me. So, I lied.
I’m the one that asked you to do this with me, and we’ve been so honest with each other, and you deserve to know that yes, I felt something,” I say, my voice shaking.
“But no, I don’t want to do anything about it.
It was cruel of me to assume that you can close off your feelings the way I can, and if what happened made you upset, I’m sorry. ”
Marsh looks at me, the muscles in his jaw leaping as he takes in what I’m saying. “I owe you an apology too.”
“For what?”
“We made it very clear what we were doing from the beginning. You have been nothing but honest about how you feel about relationships. I just don’t know how to do this…but I want to try.”
“Try how?” I say slowly.
“How about a new deal?” he proposes.
I raise my eyebrows. “A new deal?”
He takes a step closer, and it takes everything in me to not touch him. I want him to hold me so badly.
“We continue our arrangement,” he starts, and I’m already liking the sound of this. “You continue writing your stories…As far as my family is concerned, we’re still together…”
“Okay…”
“You still come on as an expert for my story because you’re qualified and are the best person to interview.”
“Obviously,” I say and he smiles.
“And sex is on the table,” he says. “Whenever we want…no strings attached.”
I swallow, my skin prickling. “No strings attached?”
“No strings attached,” Marsh repeats. “Because I don’t think I can spend another second with you and not touch you. I can’t go back.”
I take a step toward Marsh, my hands going up and down his biceps. “I don’t want anything to change between us,” I say.
“It won’t,” he says.
“Marsh.” I look up at him. “I can’t give you a relationship,” I warn him a final time, making sure he knows where I stand.
“I’m not asking for a relationship,” he says gently.
“So, if we continue our arrangement,” I say slowly, “does that change anything?”
“This won’t be anything you don’t want it to be, Lucy. I promise.”
I can’t help but smile. “Okay,” I say, “because what we have is good, right?”
“It’s very good.”
“And I think”—I bite my lip—“it could be better with sex.”
“That we can agree on.”
It takes me a moment to process what we just consented to. Our arrangement from day one still stands but it’s now so much better. We both get what we need out of this deal, and at the same time, we get to be together. Really be together.
There was a lot more that I wanted to do with Marsh and not because he’s big, or because he’s handsome in a Gregory Peck kind of way. It’s because sex with Marsh fills me in a way that I didn’t know was possible.
I look up, and Marsh’s eyes are a deep hazel on the other side of his glasses. His lips are full and his brows thick and grooved.
“Can I kiss you?” I ask.
“Lucy, you’ve got to be out of your mind if you don’t know the answer to that question.”
I go on my tiptoes, leaning forward, and gently place my lips on Marsh’s.
It quickly turns into something deep, desperate, and hot.
Marsh’s hands grip my ass, and I can’t conceal the smile on my face.
This is what it feels like to be completely and utterly on the same page as someone.
To have all our cards on the table, knowing exactly what the outcome of what we’re doing is. There’s no room for misinterpretation.
Marsh Oakley can’t hurt me.
More important, I can’t hurt him.
I Didn’t Know Sex Could Get Better
By Lucy Reid
September 1
As transparent as I am about my sex life, there are two things I will never reveal: who I’m sleeping with and how many people I’ve slept with.
Now, it’s no surprise I’m quite…experienced…when it comes to sex, but what I’m here to tell you is that no matter how much of an expert you consider yourself to be on a certain topic, there is always still more to learn.
This past weekend I experienced not only multiple orgasms (and no, they were not self-induced), but I also genuinely connected with someone for the first time in bed.
If you don’t know what I’m talking about, then it probably hasn’t happened to you.
To that I will say, do not give up now. If sex is not blowing your mind and making you want to laugh, cry, and shoot up into the sky like a firework all at the same time then you are with the wrong person.
It’s not just the bad boys who know how to turn you on.
It is indeed possible to find not only a gentleman on the streets but someone filthy in the sheets.
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