Chapter 9
Nine
Henry
Leave it to me to make a fool of myself time and time again.
How water runs down my back, and the hard water pressure is perfect on my scalp.
My eyes automatically close as a chill runs through me from the mixture of the heat and cold air enveloping me.
As I’m on my way to finally relaxing and settling my thoughts, that deep voice pops into my head.
“Oh, I definitely see something.”
My body flushes all over again, heart rate speeding up. It’s the way he said it too. He has my spine tingling and ears buzzing. How much of me did he see and did he like what was in front of him?
My cock jerks between my legs and my hand makes its way down my shaking body.
I squeeze my thighs together, feet cementing to the bottom of the tub as I give myself long strokes.
Toes curling, a fever comes over me, and I curl forward as I thrust my hips.
I think back to that kiss he described and imagine him tugging on my face to force me to look at him with one hand while the other takes the place of mine.
Suddenly it’s no longer me touching myself and causing pleasure to curl in the pit of my stomach. It’s his long, thick, warm fingers. Warmth scatters up and down the center of my body as I grip onto the wall with my palm flattening against the cold tile.
“You’re getting so close for me, Honey,” I can almost hear him whisper against my ear. Yes, I caught his little term of endearment whether he really meant to say it or not. Maybe he forgot who he was talking to for a minute, but right now I want to believe the word was for me and me alone.
“You like having me take care of you, don’t you? Having complete control of your pleasure. I bet you’re beautiful when you come. I can tell how much you’re dying to show me too.”
I fold more into myself, my pulse skyrocketing as I give in to every sensation taking hold of my body.
“Yeah, that’s my good Honey. My sweet Honey. Let go for me.”
Leaning entirely into the fantasy, I do, coming so hard I can practically see everything around me again—the sparkling white of the walls, the floral shower curtain touching my shoulder as I rock from side to side from losing my bearings.
“Fuck,” I sputter, milking the remainder of my orgasm with my tightening grip, and my lips stretch into an easy smile. Feeling so much at once, I both want to laugh and cry. That’s until the high I’m on fades and I’m pulled back into the reality of where I am— completely alone.
Needing to hear the real person who has my heart all over the place every time his voice pours out of the phone like warm honey, I hurry and wash my hair, counting the rubber bands on each bottle I open.
I’m moving so fast I accidentally scrub shampoo into my eyes and drop the face wash on my foot.
I let out a guttural shout and hop on one foot as I reach for the towel on the rack above the toilet to wipe my eyes.
Getting wrapped in the shower curtain, I fight my way out of it and lose my grip on the tub, crashing to the ground. My side screams as I land hard on it and I roll to my back in defeat. Why do I keep thinking I can do this? Why does it have to be so fucking hard? Is it like this for everyone?
Slowly getting to my feet, I hold on to the closest thing I can reach and touch everything around me until my hand is finally brushing over my towel.
Yanking it free, I let out a sigh and turn off the water, not caring about the leftover soap on my skin and in my hair.
I use the towel to get it all off the best I can and stand in front of the mirror, reaching a hand in front of me until I’m dragging my nails down the damp glass.
It’s crazy to think about all the little things I took for granted when I could see.
Staying where I am, I imagine what I must look like right now.
Flushed and pink from the hot water. Eyes bloodshot from my shattering orgasm and skin all scratched up from my fall.
I’ll never know for sure because seeing my own reflection will forever be a thing of the past going forward.
After drying the rest of my body, I drag the towel around the floor with my foot, drying it the best I can before retreating to my room.
My hip has yet to forgive me an hour after I’m dressed and chowing down on my second peanut butter sandwich of the day. I can tell there’ll be a lot of these in my near future. They’re some of the very few items marked with rubber bands. That label-reading app is sounding good right about now.
I lick the tips of my fingers and lean against the counter as I reconsider watching the next movie alone.
The idea doesn’t sit well with me no matter how much I try to convince myself it’ll be better for me if I do.
I can’t get used to something else that will soon be gone.
I got used to Travis and look where he is now.
With someone else. Someone I also thought would be in my life for a while.
Rubbing the sorest part of my body, I grab my cane that’s hanging from the back of one of the kitchen chairs and pivot toward the living room.
Once the back of my legs hit the couch, I lower myself to the cushions and rest my cane beside me.
One more movie with him won’t hurt. It’s only two, and I did already agree to it.
Before I can think too much about how relieved he might be if I told him I was going to turn in early instead, I go to the app and command my phone to contact the last person who assisted me.
“Hey. Perfect timing. I just got done having a late dinner.”
“What did you have?” I say, settling further back on the couch and shifting my legs until I’m more comfortable.
“Nothing special. Leftover birria tacos.”
“Sounds like the perfect meal to me. It’s been a while since I’ve had Mexican food.”
“How long?”
I pick at the hole at the bottom of my shirt. “Probably a month or so. I can’t cook much and didn’t really leave the house much after the accident. I wanted to but . . . getting into a car isn’t always easy for me, and it was always too much trouble for Travis to want to deal with.”
“Look, forgive me if I’m taking things out of context here, but Travis sounds like an asshole.”
I nearly choke on my tongue. “Sadly, I don’t think you are. I think I was too in love to see what everyone else kept trying to point out to me.”
“And now?”
“Well . . . let’s just say I don’t have to worry about it anymore, because he helped remove that wool from my eyes when I found out he was fucking our neighbor and told me he was leaving me for him.”
The string of silence has me wondering if I’ve lost him, and then he says, “Right when I think he couldn’t get any worse, he does. Looks like the trash took itself out for you, and seeing the way these things usually play out, he’ll soon realize the mistake he made.”
“Yeah, maybe he will and maybe he won’t. Either way, I’m done with him and I’m never trusting him again.”
“Good. Now, as much as I want to continue being annoyed at this man on your behalf, I’d much prefer if we put all our energy into a movie instead.”
I let out a short laugh. “Yeah. That does sound like a better use for it. Speaking of which, you ready to hear my choice for the evening?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely.”
I smile at that. “I’m not sure you’re ready.”
“Oh, I’m ready. Stop with the suspense already and let’s hear it.”
“Hmmm.” I tap my lips, lifting the phone. “I don’t know. I like the idea of you trying to figure out what I’m thinking.”
“Do you?” He chirps. “And is it only movies in that head of yours?”
A rush of heat runs through me. “Maybe.”
“Either way, not sure I want to know for sure.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I’d like to pretend what I have running through mine is the same thing you have running through yours. So, if you tell me, then the illusion will be ruined.”
“And what do you have going on in yours?”
“Not sure I should say yet. Maybe after the fourth Christmas movie I watch with you.”
I laugh. “Four whole movies, huh?”
“Yup. I’m upping my movie-explaining game today, and I’m here to prove how much better I am than that damn robot.”
He doesn’t have to prove anything. It doesn’t matter how badly he describes things, he’ll still be my preferred choice. That robot doesn’t make me feel all giddy inside or have me thinking about kissing another person for days on end. “Okay. Let’s go, then. Drum roll please.”
He makes a beat with his mouth and a smile cracks my lips. “The movie today will be . . . ahem . . .” I pretend to clear my throat. “Elf.”
“Oh, and here I thought it was going to be It’s a Wonderful Life or another classic.”
“Hey, Elf is a good movie.”
“If you say so.”
“Does this mean you’ve seen it?”
He huffs a breath. “Kind of.”
“Ah, one of those movies someone you know had on in the background some day long ago.”
He laughs. “Something like that.”
“Want me to pick another?”
“No. I want you to pick what you want, and you did. This is your vacation and I’m merely here to help you enjoy it more.”
“Didn’t know that was part of the app services.”
“It is now. At least whenever it’s taking place between me and you.”
My heart flutters. He’s blatantly flirting.
There’s no mistaking that. Is that allowed on here?
Is this an ongoing occurrence for him? This could be just him as a person.
Travis sometimes flirted while saying he didn’t mean to.
Like with our neighbor. Gosh, I was so stupid.
This isn’t Travis, though. No. Far from it.
This is someone who makes me feel like I did before. Like I’m capable and not some burden.
“Ah, so I get special treatment?”
“Yes, and you never know, you could end up making me like this movie.”
“You think the people around you make a difference?”
“I do.”
“Okay. I’ll take that challenge.”
I get the movie going and pause it ten minutes in when I grow thirsty. We laugh, exchanging jokes as I walk to the fridge. I’m about to grab a bottle of water because it’s easy and then Rafael asks me if I ever had Mexican hot chocolate before.
“No. Is it any good?”
“The best. Has a cinnamon taste, and it’s a bit richer than the regular kind.”
“I’ll have to try it.”
“Yeah. You definitely should,” he says swiftly.
“And now I want hot chocolate, but all I have is the Walmart brand for the Keurig.”
“Better than nothing,” he quips, and I turn the camera toward the counter as I open the drawer in front of the machine.
“Third row from the right,” he says with certainty in his voice. I didn’t even have to tell him what I needed help with, and he always sounds so happy to do it . . . almost like . . . no. Why would he get satisfaction out of being the one doing all this for me?
“Thanks. I’ll remember that from here on. What’s in the first row?”
“Green tea. The fourth row has espresso coffee and the fifth is vanilla latte.”
“My sister stocked all her favorites, I see.”
“None of those are yours? I’m a little disappointed. Green tea is the best.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Aside from the hot chocolate, no. I prefer making tea the old-fashioned way, and I’m not a huge coffee fan. I do like stocking up on chai lattes for those lazy days, though.”
“Phew, you do like tea. I was worried I was going to have to end this ever-growing appship of ours early. You should add some chai along with the Mexican hot chocolate to your next grocery list.”
I set a cup under the spout and go based on memory when hitting the start button after filling the back with water.
We fix ourselves a hot beverage at the same time, chit chatting about everything and nothing until I resume the movie.
I spit my drink at his animated voice when describing the cartoon images at the North Pole.
There’s so much excitement in his voice when Buddy is spinning around in the revolving doors, and a sound of disgust at the scene where he tosses chewed gum into his mouth.
He overdoes it a little, not missing a single detail whenever there’s any kind of Christmas decor that shows up on scene. He’s enjoying the movie. It’s easy to tell. He laughs with me at similar parts and makes comments about how he would have done this or that if it were him.
I keep forgetting he’s somewhere else, lifting my cup to my mouth as I lean into the couch cushion, pretending it’s his shoulder my head’s resting on.
“Okay, you’re right. This one isn’t so bad.”
“I’m what?”
He lets out an overexaggerated sigh and chuckles. “You’re right.”
“Mhm. I thought that’s what you said.”
“Okay. There’s no reason to gloat.”
“Oh, but I disagree, when I feel like I’m contributing in such a big way to help thaw out that Christmas-movie-hating heart.”
“Wait a minute. I never said I hated them.”
“You sure act like it.”
“Yeah, yeah. I think it’s more to do with the fact that . . . you know, never mind.”
“Something for movie six?”
He laughs. “Yeah . . . or movie ten.”
“You really think you’re going to want to suffer through that many more with me?”
“No.”
My smile falls. “No?”
“It will in no way be suffering. Watching and enjoying it . . . But suffering, not even close.”
My lips tilt again, and I feel like a fire is lighting up inside me. “I have to say, your tree descriptions were top tier in this one.”
“Yeah? What else did I do good with?”
“The ice skating and that first kiss.”
“First kisses are always too special to not take my time on.”
“You mean while describing movies or in general?”
“Both.”
“I only have experience with your scene play-by-plays, so I can’t really agree or disagree with the other thing.”
“What if you could?”
My heart skips a beat. “I . . .”
“Shit . . . I’m sorry. Forget I said that. The last thing I want is for you to see me as someone who pulls lines on everyone I’m supposed to be helping.”
“Do you?”
“No.” His voice tightens. “I’ve only helped four other people, and they were nothing like you.”
“Rafael . . .” My breaths turn into pants.
“Yeah?”
I swallow the thickness in my throat and my thoughts shift gear as I hold back on what I truly want to say. “Want to help me decorate my Christmas tree now that the movie is over?”
He doesn’t say anything for what feels like forever, heavy breathing picking up around me before he responds with, “Abso-fucking-lutely.”