45. Zayn
Zayn
Brunch with Logan went as well as you’d expect. He grilled me about the gala, then grilled me about Annie. After seeing us together this past weekend, I wouldn’t have expected anything different.
But I wish he didn’t have to talk about her.
Not today. Not when tonight is going to be our last date, our last night together.
She doesn’t know this yet, but it needs to happen.
Before she moves out. Before she decides to stay with me, or before I beg her to stay for me.
To forget everything she’s worked for just to be with me.
And so talking about her with Logan is the last thing I want to do, but I figure I need to get used to talking about her, thinking about her, about us not being an us. So, I put on a smile, and that’s what I do.
Does it make my heart hurt less? No, quite the opposite. Any piece of my heart that was previously mending, healing from the past, is no longer.
Does it make me forget that this is happening? That I’ll soon be losing her? Also, no. It just reminds me that I don’t have more time with her.
I’m grateful when Logan finally receives a call and has to go attend a meeting. It means I’m able to go home. Home to Annie.
When I finally get to the apartment and open the door, I find Annie at the island.
She’s wearing one of my favorite outfits.
It’s nothing extravagant, just the shirt she stole from me the first night we slept together over a pair of biker shorts.
Her hair is tied in a bun and she’s hunched over her computer.
She’s playing Chappell Roan and swaying from side to side, singing the words.
Loud. Loud enough that she doesn’t hear me come into the room.
My feet gravitate toward her, like always, and I’m not powerful enough to stop myself.
Not that I’m wanting to, but touching her when I’m in love with her and can’t have her is not on my to-do list right now.
But, my body moves and my hands wrap around her waist. My face nuzzles into the crook of her neck and I breathe in deeply, her familiar bakery scent overwhelming my every sense.
She tenses for a moment, barely a moment, before relaxing into my grip and giggling at my nose tickling her.
“Zayn, you scared me.”
“Blame the music,” I say, not needing to see her face to know she rolls her eyes.
“I thought you weren’t going to be home until later? Is everything okay?”
“Yes.” No.
My arms untangle from her and she twists toward me. I have a quick second to see her computer screen before it’s shut.
“Flights?” I ask, unsure what answer I want.
“Oh, um, just looking.”
“Just looking?”
“Yeah, to see how long the flight from here to there is.” Annie fidgets in the chair beneath her, crossing and uncrossing her legs like she can’t decide which way she wants to sit.
“And?”
“And what?” she asks.
“How long is the flight?”
“I don’t know.”
“How—how don’t you know?” I ask, confused. If she was just looking up flights, she should know this.
“I couldn’t bring myself to look.” Her gaze drops to her lap and I see a tear fall, darkening the light gray shirt.
I do the only thing I know what to do at this moment. My lips meet her head and I stay there for a minute, maybe five. Annie wraps her arms around me, and it’s in that moment that I know we feel the same.
We both want to be with each other.
But we can’t.
Because she’s moving.
I take a step back and wrap a hand under her jaw, tilting her head up. My eyes meet hers and I kiss the spots where the tears stained her cheek.
“We knew this was coming,” I say, hoping that if I say it out loud, it will make this situation easier.
“But it wasn’t like this. It was going to be different,” Annie says between sobs.
“But it can’t be different, can it? You’re going to go to New York. And you’re going to continue to chase your dream because you’re so fucking good at your job. So good. And I’m going to be here, hopefully doing the same. Always being grateful for the time I got to spend with you.”
We’re both crying now, and I’m glad we are talking about this now, instead of out at dinner.
Why did I think this would make a great dinner conversation?
I should know that grief and sadness result in a lack of appetite, and we wouldn’t be able to have the last few days together before Annie moves out.
“You’re not going to beg me to stay?” Annie peers at me with water-filled eyes.
I shake my head slowly, swiping at her cheeks with my thumbs. “I love you too much to beg you to stay.”
“You—” Annie says, or at least starts to say, but I cut her off with a kiss.
“I love you, Annie. In every lifetime, I would choose you over and over. The world knew what it was doing when it brought me to you, at the lowest point in my life. I am forever grateful to have met you, to have spent the last few months with you. But no, I will not ask you to stay. You need to go, chase this dream. You know that, don’t you?
” I grip her face tight, as if I’m afraid if I let her go, she will fade away.
But she nods, and nods again. Her tears slow, likely because she has nothing left to give. She starts to speak, but I stop her again.
“Don’t. Please,” I beg now, but for something entirely different. “If what you’re about to say is in response to what I said, don’t. If you do, I can’t promise I’ll be strong enough to let you go. And I need to let you go. I don’t want to, but I need to.”
She sits there and stares at me for a few moments. Contemplating, thinking, thinking some more, and finally, her lips curl inward and she nods.
“Okay,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.
“I want tonight to be perfect, for you, for us. I want us to have a few more memories to think of. A few more kisses, to remember you by.”
“You act like I’ll never see you again, Z.” She meets my gaze again, this time with more fire.
“I hope the next time you see me, we are both where we want to be. And I hope we’re single, and can try this thing for real.”
“Is that a deal?”
I must take too long, because Annie speaks again before I get the chance.
“If the next time I see you we are both where we want and are single, we are doing this thing for real?”
“In every lifetime, Annie.”
Then she pulls my shirt with her fist and tugs, her other hand gripping the back of my neck, slamming my lips against hers. We kiss as if it’s our last, as if we can’t get enough, as if we are trying to memorize the lines of each other before it’s too late.
My hands do the same, tracing every curve of her body until I hit the chair she’s sitting on. Why is she still sitting on this damn stool?
I firmly slide my hands under her, lifting her off the stool and bringing her body as close as it’ll get to mine. Her legs wrap around me as I walk us down the hallway.
“For six more days, you’re mine. And I’m going to make sure you remember that,” I growl as I toss her back on the bed.
“How do you plan on doing that?” Annie asks, her voice still timid, still weak from just a moment ago, but more of her is back, more of the Annie that I know.
“Where do I begin?” I say, sliding up between her legs, resting my hard length against her. Her eyes flutter shut, her mouth opens, her back arches.
I press into her, harder. “I could begin with this mouth of yours. Always fighting with me, teasing me...”
I kiss her now, lingering.
“Or your neck. I could leave a mark, or two, or three. Something slightly permanent perhaps? Let anyone know who you belong to.”
She moans now as my teeth sink into her, then just my lips, sucking and soothing the spot.
“Or maybe your breasts,” I say, reaching down to pull her shirt up.
She lifts her back, letting me drag her shirt up, then lifts her head off the pillow so I can take it off.
My eyes drop down to her chest, expecting to have to remove her bra, but there’s nothing there.
Just two perfect breasts, and fuck—her nipples are already hard.
A hiss slithers out my mouth as my lips meet each stiff peak, my tongue swirling and my hand grasping at each one.
“But I think I’ll start at your pussy. Fuck you with my tongue, for when you’re alone and thinking of me, you picture me here, between your legs. Worshiping you.”
And that’s what I do for the next little while: I worship her. And continue until I manage to have her arching beneath me.
“Fuck, Zayn,” she moans, my name continuing to fall from her lips over again as I flick her clit.
She wriggles and moves, her orgasm starting to build. My hand moves from her leg to her stomach, pinning her to the bed. My tongue takes over where my finger was. Faster, harder, and then she’s whimpering, moaning my name again as she comes.
I remove my mouth from her and smile, staying in that position, just looking at her.
Her chest rises and falls, slowing its pace.
Strands of her hair fall around her face while the rest lay on the bed in a messy pile.
A soft sheen is on her face, her cheeks are flushed a deep red, her bottom lip red from her constantly pulling it under her teeth.
“Come here,” she whispers, and who am I to deny her?
If she asked me to come with her to New York, I’m not even sure if I’d be able to say no. But for now I obey her command and crawl up her body, moving to rest next to her.
“I think I should stay with Marcy starting next week, until I fly out. Just to give us some space. I’m afraid if I stay here, it will be too unbearable,” she whispers.
I nod, knowing full well it would be the same for me. “Okay. Let’s make sure not to waste any time.”
Her hand cups my cheek, and I close my eyes as she caresses me with her thumb.
Her lips are on mine before I open my eyes, and we stay like this for a long while.
We don’t leave the bed for another hour, or maybe two, but eventually both of our stomachs growl and I remember that we were supposed to get dinner tonight.
So, I pull her out of bed, interlacing my hand with hers to guide her down the hallway.
“I thought we were going out?” Annie says, a hand going to her mouth to catch a yawn.
“That was the plan, but I think I’d like to stay in. Just to spend tonight alone.”
“I like that plan,” Annie smiles. She walks over to the couch to sit down, curling her legs under her before throwing a blanket over them. “Maybe we can watch a movie, too.”
“Whatever you want, Anns.” I plop down next to her. “As long as I get to be with you, that’s all I care about.”