24. Brent
Brent
Considering I arrived on Posey’s doorstep determined to deliver her a final latte and break off our fake romance, it’s somewhat remarkable I’m still in her bed mid-afternoon.
From the minute she apologized and kissed me, there was no way I was leaving.
Val and I had a lot of makeup sex, but she never apologized, ever.
Her acts of contrition involved a blow job or a hand job or a quick fuck in the shadows of a building.
Nothing sincere or real. A means to an end.
She emptied my balls but never fed my soul.
Conversations with Posey are a different story.
We tiptoe around things, but we’re more real than what I had with Val.
Anything too revealing is an emotional tightrope.
One false step, and I’m tumbling into ex-fake-boyfriend territory.
Last night I thought I was okay with that outcome.
Even when I arrived, conflicted, I was sure breaking this off was the best thing to do.
The need for a fake girlfriend is gone. With my schedule for the foreseeable future, a real girlfriend who wants my time and attention won’t work.
We’ll fizzle and die like every other time I’ve tried to have a normal relationship.
Except, Posey has been proving my theory wrong from the moment I met her.
Maybe what I’ve needed is a fiercely independent woman. If I’m busy, she’s fine because she’s got five hundred other people who’ll gladly take my place.
Before she admitted we are, in fact, exclusive, the reality of exactly how many people she could be busy with ate at me, a rot I hadn’t allowed to get a hold in me until now.
Val dripped the poison about Posey, but I sucked it up.
Deep down, I didn’t believe Val, but Posey’s evasiveness fed my insecurity.
The incident with Chet last night wasn’t about jealousy, but my questions around who else she was sleeping with definitely were. Unless I want her to run screaming for the hills, I won’t be noting that distinction.
She’s sprawled across my chest, and I’m tracing figure eights on her back while she talks about her childhood in Bellerive.
It’s the one subject sure to keep her talking without too many sexual innuendos.
Her love for her country is clear. In theory, I should feel the same about America.
I represent my country at one of the world’s biggest events, but I’ve got nothing on her passion for a place.
“Right after graduation,” she says, “I’m going back. Tucker and Polidano offered me a junior position in their design office. In a few years, I’ll drop a bug in Alex’s ear about redecorating a few of the rooms at the palace, and I’ll beg him to hire me.”
“Alex is...” My Bellerive family tree is still fuzzy at best. Though Posey showed me a few accounts dedicated to the Bellerive royal brothers and Bellerive in general so I’d understand who and what she was talking about.
The only one I’ve been able to remember with any success is Nick because his fractured friendship with her older sister had such an impact on Posey.
“The future king of Bellerive. He’s the oldest brother. The prickliest, too, but he likes my sister, so maybe I’ll get Jules to ask him.”
Listening to her talk about pulling up her Michigan stakes at Northern and returning to her roots in Bellerive shouldn’t bother me, but I can’t imagine being here without her. Fucked up considering I’m not even sure I’ll be able to convince her to stick around beyond next week.
“Do you want to go out for an early dinner?” I ask on impulse. “Maybe catch a movie?”
She peers at me, and I can see the wheels turning. God forbid we do anything that might feel like a real date. Dinner and a movie is a radical plan.
“It seemed like you were saying we’d been spending too much time together.”
“Did it?” Earlier I was trying to keep from losing my cool over her vague answers. I slide my hand down to rest in the hollow before the curve of her ass. “Might as well enjoy the time we’ve got, right?”
“Hmm.” She taps her bottom lip and then gives a slow nod. “I get to pick where we eat.”
“Fine by me. I’ll eat anything.”
“I’m aware.” She chuckles and rolls off me.
I follow her and pin her to the bed. “Might need an appetizer before the main course.”
Posey gives me a sly smile and spreads her legs. “I’ve got one right here.”
“Just what I ordered,” I say as I trail kisses down her body and then slide my hands under her ass to tip up her pelvis. She digs her fingers into my hair, and when I glance up at her, utter contentment falls over me like a blanket. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than in this bed with her.
“What?” she whispers.
I won’t say it, but the realization doesn’t send a shot of panic through me either. Deacon said someone would break down Posey’s high walls someday, and I’m starting to think I’m up for the challenge.
“You’d better find something to hold on to,” I say. “I’m going to make you come so hard you’ll be thinking about it for days.”
“It’s a shame you lack so much confidence.” She lets out a throaty chuckle.
“A real mood killer,” I say, and with that, I flick my tongue along her slit. She clutches at the bed sheets and rolls her hips.
“More,” she says.
She’s going to get more. So much more than she bargained for, and I slide my tongue between her slick folds before covering her clit with my lips.
Posey suggests we go to a hole-in-the-wall place on the outskirts of the southern end of campus. Earlier, I went home after practice to work up my nerve to come here and call off our fake relationship, so my car is here. Worked out beautifully.
Pretty sure I’ve convinced myself I want the real thing instead.
The first heavy snow is supposed to fall sometime tonight. We’re still shivering from the cold, and my car hasn’t had a chance to warm up by the time we reach the restaurant parking lot. She didn’t tell me where we were going, so when I park the car, I stare up at the big blue sign.
“What’s Bellerive’s obsession with blue?” In bold lettering, the restaurant is simply called Bellerive Cuisine. Not exactly inventive, but I suppose it gets the point across. Here’s hoping the sign isn’t reflective of the food quality.
“What’s America’s obsession with red, white, and blue?”
“Touché, Jensen.” I open my door and follow her to the entrance.
The minute we step inside, I’m relieved to see the tacky sign out front bears zero resemblance to the professional gray-and-white décor inside, which relies on splashes of Bellerive’s signature blue hue here and there.
“Did you design this place?” I cock my head.
She glances at me over her shoulder, and there’s a flush in her cheeks that isn’t from the cold. “What gave me away?”
Nothing. And everything. This place feels like her.
“Posey!” An older gentleman with salt-and-pepper hair and a graying beard approaches us from the back of the empty restaurant.
“You finally brought us a boyfriend?” He extends his hand to me.
“She only ever brings her roommates, and my wife and I have the hardest time believing no man has snapped her up.”
“She’s so slick and slippery, she’s hard to snap up.” I take his hand, and he chuckles while Posey elbows me.
“He’s not my boyfriend. That’s what he meant to say.” Posey waves me off.
“Oh,” the owner says. “She’s still playing hard to get. You look very familiar.” His gaze narrows on me. “Posey, did you show me photos of your boyfriend once?”
“Um, possibly.” Pink appears in her cheeks.
It’s not as though I don’t know she was obsessed with staring at my half-naked body, but the sheer number of people who are aware of it is surprising.
Or maybe it isn’t. Posey has no problem oversharing as long as the emotion doesn’t hit too close to home.
A guy she never thought she’d actually meet is right up her alley.
He shows us to a table near the back, and he gives us menus. Posey sets hers on the edge of the table without opening it.
“How many times have you been here?”
“Drunk or sober?” She takes a sip of the water he placed in front of us. “This is the closest to home I can get in Michigan. I come here whenever I need a taste.”
Given how much she loves Bellerive, I’m going to assume that’s weekly at the very least. The fact the owners let her have a heavy hand in redecorating the place speaks volumes about her connection with them and this place.
Whatever happens over the next week or so, I’ll end up here again.
Not sure if the food is any good, but the atmosphere is top-notch.
“I’m going to trust you to order for us.” I set my menu on top of hers.
“Really?” She grins. “Whatever I want? Can you give me your level of Brent hungriness on a scale of one to ten?”
I rub my belly and consider her question. “A solid eight.”
When the owner returns, Posey rattles off rice and fish dishes I’ve never heard of. She also orders some sort of apple blossom pastry for dessert. While we wait for dinner, we search for movies and times on our phones.
The rest of the evening passes in a blur of food that tastes tropical and European, as though Bellerive has an identity crisis. Not that I’d say that to Posey.
The action film runs long, and when we get back to her apartment, she checks the clock on the dash. “You have practice soon, right?”
I stare at the clock as the number turns over.
Technically, I should be at practice in half an hour.
If I left now, I’d get there easily. The snow has started to fall, and my car warmed as we drove.
There have been a handful of times where diving into a cold pool wasn’t remotely appealing, and tonight the only place I want to dive is back under the covers with Posey.
“Practice was cancelled,” I say. Coach won’t give me shit for missing it since I’ll be there again in the morning.
He keeps telling me I need more balance, and the girl sitting beside me is the closest to equilibrium I’ve ever felt.
Giving an inch for her doesn’t scare me as much as I thought it would.
“Really?” A wide smile spreads across her face. “You’re coming up?”
I graze her cheek with my thumb, and I slide my hand around to cup her neck before drawing her into a kiss. She meets it, and her tongue dips and dances with mine. When I draw back, I rest my forehead against hers and I question my sanity.
Instead of ditching the girl and the drama, I’m ditching practice. Not something I ever would have thought myself capable of. No one and nothing has ever come before swimming. But tonight, for the first time ever, I’d rather be in her bed than in the pool.
The last thing she’s after is a real relationship, but I’m starting to realize letting her go won’t be as easy as I thought.
The unattainable has never been so appealing.
With swimming, if I work hard enough, the results come.
With women, I’ve learned to set my expectations at a level I can achieve.
Brief companionship. A relationship wedged into the cracks of my schedule.
Posey doesn’t feel like something I wedge into anything. What I’m starting to feel for her is on par with my drive to win in the pool. A real relationship might be unreachable, but I’ve always loved a challenge.
When we get out of the car with the snow falling around us, she links her hand with mine and leads me toward her apartment.
In life, timing is everything. Maybe we’ve met too early. We’ll peak too soon. Or never quite get off the ground. But I can’t let this chance with her pass me by.