15. Ophie
Ophie
Maggie was right. It’s so quiet out here, my thoughts are echoing around my brain with nothing to drown them out.
I squeeze the mug in my hands as I stare out over the mist-covered vines, my warm coffee chasing off the slight early morning chill. It’s August, and even though it’s supposed to be in the nineties today, it won’t get hot until much later. Right now, the wooden porch is cold under my bare feet, and my exposed arms are covered in goose bumps.
Jackie and Greg’s cabin, the one Philip and I are staying in, is closest to the tasting room—Nate’s, then Maggie and Kel’s sitting downhill from us. Kel’s cabin is dark and silent, but a square patch of light shines on the ground from one of Nate’s windows.
I let the quiet wash over me, broken only by the sound of Philip getting ready to meet Nate for his seven a.m. tour. The eerie view and sounds of nature are a balm to my bruised feelings. Our clandestine rendezvous have been simultaneously hot as fuck and sweet as sugar, but they always leave me feeling a little more broken inside. That’s why I had to take a break from him last week—I needed a moment to nurse my breaking heart. How will I bear it when he inevitably leaves me?
Or I leave him.
I had every intention of pulling out my laptop to reread the email from Penny Zimmerman to interview for the position at her start-up in South Carolina, but I can’t risk Philip seeing it. I haven’t brought myself to say anything about it to him yet. We changed the rules of our friendship knowing there was a good chance of this happening, but now that the reality of it is here, I would do anything to put off seeing his face at the news.
I’d much rather pretend that we can live in this bubble forever.
Instead of reading the email for the hundredth time, I let the misty morning and bird calls draw me outside. I can see why Maggie likes it out here, although I imagine between her and Olive, the quiet isn’t as oppressive, broken by their constant chatter. No wonder Kel loves having her there.
Some kind of large bird calls out in the distance. When no animal calls back, it repeats a few times. It’s a lonely sound—kind of how I felt before Philip. He had no idea how anxious and alone I felt that first day of classes, before he sat beside me and immediately started teasing me.
The way I felt growing up, watching my older sisters share a bond that excluded me, is completely foreign to him. Even though it was my choice not to share in it, watching the two of them head off to dance every afternoon while I stayed home, or sat in the car doing homework while they were inside, built an invisible wall between us. A wall that only started to come down when Daisy went to college, and by then, it was hard to break the habit of loneliness.
I was so used to being alone that having other people in my life felt oppressive, even as I craved it.
I turn at the sound of the front door opening.
“Your phone is ringing.” Philip crosses the porch, stealing my mug from me. “Oh bless, that’s good.”
“There’s a whole pot inside—you could have your own mugful.” I make a face at him.
“But I like the way you make it better.” He punctuates his statement by slurping down a mouthful, dancing in place as his eyes water.
“Too hot?” I laugh as he struggles to swallow, his eyes bulging.
“Just a smidge. Here.” He pushes the mug back into my hands, then starts to walk away. “Wish me luck with old When-we.”
“When-we?”
Philip laughs, tucking his hands into his pockets before he strolls toward Nate’s cabin. “‘When we did it in France…,’ ‘when we were in charge…,’ ‘when my dad…’” He shakes his head. “It’s what we call the old Rhodies and Afrikaners. The ones who can’t let go of when they were in charge.”
“That’s actually perfect.” I shake my head. “Good luck with old When-we,” I call out as Philip trots away laughing.
I can’t see him anymore, but his voice drifts back, calling out a greeting to Nate. The sound of their conversation fades as I stand there, sipping the hot drink. I snort. “When-we. More like When-Sydney-finally-tells-me-what-the-hell-the-story-is.”
I make my way inside, ready to pull out my laptop and write another mind-numbing cover letter. At least I don’t have to work at the coffee shop today. Picking up my phone, I flinch at the dozen notifications from various job-hunting sites that flash at me from the screen. I spend the morning working through them one at a time, hesitating every time the location is outside of the Pacific Northwest, but also determined not to change my life plans just because I have feelings .
My stomach is rumbling as I go back to Penny’s email one last time.
Dear Ophelia, First of all, let me apologize for originally scheduling your interview at six in the morning. I’m on the East Coast and forgot about the time difference! Thank you for being gracious about my blunder. I am very excited to sit down and chat with you next week. In order to prepare for your interview, it would be helpful if you could complete the following questionnaire…
I’m still mulling the questionnaire over when my phone rings. Cassie’s voice greets me as I hit the button. “Hey, hermit, what are you doing?”
“Hello to you too.” I laugh, sitting back on the couch and closing my laptop.
“Pfft. I haven’t seen you in weeks.”
“You were on your honeymoon, remember?”
“We got back three days ago.”
“Wow, three whole days back and you’re already sick of TJ? That doesn’t bode well for your marriage,” I tease, tucking my feet underneath the blanket on the end of the couch.
Cassie laughs. “Hardly. But I miss my friend, too.”
I smile at that. Cassie has always been a good friend to me, putting up with my hermit ways and only complaining occasionally when I invite Philip to everything. “I missed you too. How was Mexico?”
“I’ll tell you about it over drinks. You want to meet me at the waterfront?”
I look around the cabin, not loving the idea of driving across the river to Vancouver and back. “I’m actually staying out at Sunshine Cellars. Do you want to come down here? The tasting room opens in an hour.”
“Why are you there?”
“Long story short, Maggie and Kel kind of moved back into my place, and I couldn’t take the sound of them having sex another night.”
Cassie laughs so loud I have to hold the phone away from my ear. “Okay, I for sure don’t ever want to think about your sister having sex again, but that is hilarious. I’ll be there at noon, and I want to know everything.”
As soon as I hang up the call, I head to the bathroom to take a shower. The hot water running down my back reminds me of the way Philip had run his fingers down my spine as we were falling asleep last night, my head pillowed on his chest.
“Hulloo,” Philip calls out as I step out of the shower. “Ophie?”
“In the bedroom,” I call back, wrapping a towel around my body and tucking it in. I grab another one and flip my head over, twisting it around my wet hair.
He bounds into the room as I straighten, a grin on his face. A grin that turns a little predatory when he sees me. “Hello, hello. Is it lunchtime already?”
“Are you hungry? I can make sandwiches if you give me a minute.”
Philip just grins even wider and takes my hand, pulling me over to the bed. “That’s not what I’m hungry for.”
With that, he pushes me back, the edge of the bed catching my knees and forcing me to sit. In an instant, he’s kneeling between my thighs, his hands guiding them apart.
Fifteen minutes later, we’re both flushed and damp. My pussy has been thoroughly devoured, and the salty taste of Philip’s cum still coats my mouth. “You better hurry and get dressed.” I push his shoulder as he lies beside me on the bed.
“In a mo. Need to check my limbs are all still attached first.” He turns his head to the side and smiles. “Ophie—”
I pop off the bed before he can say anything else. If he’s going to say sweet things, I’ll never be able to let him go once his visa is safe. Better to keep things light. “Cassie is on her way. She’s meeting me at the tasting room for a drink.”
“Is TJ coming too?” He takes the hint and rolls off the bed, picking his discarded pants up from the floor and shaking the legs right side out.
I rummage through my overnight bag, looking for underwear and a bra. “Nope. Just a girls’ gossip session, as far as I know.”
“I’ll be on the lookout for trouble from you two.” He pulls a clean shirt out of his suitcase. “Are you going to tell her about us?”
I freeze, my bra still backward on my chest. “No? I thought we were keeping this quiet. That’s still the plan, right?” I twist my bra around so I can finish putting it on, waiting for Philip to say something. He still hasn’t responded by the time I get it straight, the straps untwisted and my boobs sitting in the cups correctly. “Philip?”
His eyes are glued to my body. “Do you always put your bra on like that? It’s like scooping ice cream.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” I point out, pulling a jersey dress out of my bag. I love sundresses; they make getting dressed so easy.
Philip groans. “Are you really going to wear that?”
I smooth the orange fabric down over my hips, twisting from side to side so it flares out. “Why? What’s wrong with it?”
“I’m going to be imagining what’s underneath it all afternoon.”
I roll my eyes and take my bag of toiletries to the bathroom to finish getting ready. “You still didn’t answer my question.”
He sneaks in behind me and turns on the shower. “I was not planning to say anything to Cassie. Or TJ. Or our families.” He sticks his hand under the water to test the temperature, then steps in, his backside disappearing under the steam before I can reach back to squeeze it. “Nate, uh, may suspect, though.”
I squeeze a bit of sunscreen on my fingers, rubbing it into my skin as I speak. “Do we care what Nate thinks? And would he tell anyone?”
His reply is drowned out by the water, but I’m pretty sure he agrees with me. He keeps talking, but I can’t understand any of it, so I finish applying some makeup, not bothering with much since it’s just Cassie. Then I run some product through my wet hair so it air dries nicely.
I’m just giving myself a once-over in the mirror—how Jackie lives without a full-length mirror is beyond me—when Philip steps out of the shower. He whistles and reaches out for me, but I evade his grasp, tossing a towel over his head.
“Aw, no fair, babe,” he whines, toweling his wet hair off. As always, the curls stick out every which way, but he doesn’t seem to care.
I peer at him, then my hair products. “Can I try something?”
“Does it involve more sex?” He waggles his eyebrows, taking a slow step closer.
Laughing, I grab a tube off the counter. “It doesn’t. At least, not right now. But it might get you laid later.” I wink, then flip open the cap, squeezing a dollop of product out onto my fingers.
I finger comb his hair, separating and defining the curls on top, squeezing as much water out as I can. He’d never have the patience to let me do a proper routine on his hair, but I’ve always wondered what it would look like if it was at least a little bit styled.
“You’re too tall,” I grouse, pushing his shoulders until he kneels on the bathroom mat.
“Not a complaint I’ve ever heard before, but sure, babe. Whatever you say.” As he continues his running commentary of how I’m pulling his hair out, his fingers brush the backs of my knees. I jerk, but he doesn’t let go, sliding his hands up the back of my thighs.
His touch is so light that it tickles at the same time it sends a wave of need through me. “Stop that.” I twitch as his wandering fingers trace the curve of my ass.
Philip groans. “I’m going to be thinking about how your ass feels in my hands all afternoon. How perfectly round it is and how much I want to bury my face in your pussy.”
My cheeks, the ones on my face, go hot at his words. I shouldn’t be surprised that he’s so vocal about what he wants—the man never stops talking—but to hear him talk about me and my body that way takes me by surprise every time.
Laughing to hide my embarrassment, I keep twisting and arranging the curls around his face as he explores under my dress, not making eye contact. He keeps up a litany of the things he’s going to imagine while he’s working, including laying me out on the bar top and eating me out, and pressing me up against the wall of windows and taking me from behind while we watch the sunset over the fields. Each scenario he paints builds a little more pressure inside me. Now I’m going to be thinking about them all afternoon too.
“Ophie, you’re squirming.” His voice is rough as his thumb skates past the apex of my thighs. I jerk my hips, but he has such a firm grip on me that I can’t escape. “Are you okay?” He looks up at me with a wicked grin.
“I’m fine,” I manage to say through gritted teeth, fighting not to whimper. “Quit teasing me.” I push against his forehead as he moves to lift the fabric. “And don’t you dare mess up your hair by trying to get under my dress.”
Escaping, I turn to grab a small towel so I can squeeze some more water out of his hair.
“Ophelia Moore, will you please…” Philip pauses until I turn to look. He’s shifted, bringing one foot out so he’s on one knee, a tube of product in his hands. “Share your hair care products with me? Forever?”
The silly gesture makes me laugh, breaking the sexual tension that had been building in the small space. “You idiot.” I shake my head. “I’ll buy you your own. My hair’s not as curly as yours.”
“Then will you teach me how to do whatever you just did?” Pushing to his feet, he glances sideways in the bathroom mirror. “I didn’t know my hair could look this good.”
He turns back to me, hunching his shoulders in a terrible imitation of a model, lips pursed and eyes crossed. Laughing, I push him out the door. “Go work or something. I need to finish getting dressed.”
Waggling his eyebrows, he walks away, his whistling echoing back through the cabin as he leaves.
I keep chuckling to myself while I finish my makeup and mess with my own hair before I go meet Cassie. I need the moment alone to remind myself that she can’t know about us. And that there is no “us.” It’s just sex.
Sex with a man who makes me feel safe and seen.
No big deal.
I know I should tell him about the potential job with Zimmerman, but now isn’t the time. Either I can surprise him with the good news, or he’ll never need to know about yet another failed job lead. I’m sure he’s done plenty of interviews while I’m at work that he hasn’t told me about for the same reason. We only tell each other almost everything. But this is fine. No big deal in the grand scheme of things, since we’re both applying to as many jobs as possible.
Pushing it from my mind, I finish getting ready and wander up to the tasting room.
By the time Cassie strolls in, I’m waiting for her with a chilled bottle of riesling and two glasses in hand. I’ve been eyeing a table in the far corner of the outside patio, praying that no one else takes it. It just happens to be as far away from the bar, and Philip, as possible.