25. Arabella
25
Arabella
R yker kept his promise to take me to get my car, and thankfully, we were able to grab some more of my things while we were there. He offered to buy me whatever I needed, and while I appreciate the gesture, I need my own things. If I don’t start using my own body wash, I will lose my shit.
As soon as I got in my car, I swear my entire body relaxed a little. I don't mind riding with Ryker to and from work, but I'm not a fan of sitting in one place. I don’t doubt his promise to let me come and go as I please, but I need to keep moving or I'll go nuts.
Wrinley and I have been texting, so I know she didn’t get unalived after her–whatever that was–at Gravity. We’re finally hanging out today, and I’m looking forward to it, but I made her promise that we’d stay in this time. She’s been my person for so long and with everything that’s happened, I need some girl time.
Pulling up to her apartment, I shut off the engine. I told Ryker I’d most likely spend the night, so he shouldn’t expect me back until morning. He’s not working tonight and I can’t help but wonder what he does in his free time or for fun.
He made me promise to text him when I got here. Said it made him feel better knowing I’m safe and it makes my insides feel mushy knowing he worries about me.
Me: I made it to Wrin’s. I’ll see you tomorrow!
His response is immediate.
R: Glad you made it safe and sound. Don’t do anything you know I won’t approve of sweet girl. I’m here if you need me.
I can’t help the smile that forms as I read his message. Sweet girl. I like that more than I should. Chuckling, I pop open the car door and grab my things, heading towards my best friend, who’s already waiting for me, excitedly, at the door. When I finally get to her, we squeeze each other tightly in the best hug ever. It’s everything my soul needs, despite the tear that creeps down my cheek.
“What the fuck are you crying for, woman?” Wrinley questions, confusion contorting her face.
“I don’t even know. I think I’ve just missed you. It feels like so much has happened since we last hung out, just the two of us. I think I was going through withdrawal,” I admit, knowing she’s the last person who would judge me for feeling this way.
“Well, you’re here now. Let’s get comfy and order food so you can give me all the juicy details about what’s new with you and why you were at Gravity with Ryker the other night.” Biting my lip, I grin and feel a warmth creep up my neck as my thoughts briefly drift back to Ryker and what we did that night.
“Wait–what about you? What was that, with the unknown sender text?”
“My stuff is not exciting. I’m way more interested in finding out about this new glow you’re rocking.”
“Okay. If you say so,” I respond, still skeptical that she’s not telling the truth. “Where are the menus?”
A couple hours and an entire pizza later, we seem to be caught up and ready to move on to current events. Sometimes I forget how much my best friend can talk. She’s finally gone to pee and we discussed picking a movie, but I know she’s not going to rest until she has all the info about Ryker and I.
I feel my phone vibrate on the couch, and a warm sensation floods my core when I pick it up to see a text from the man himself.
R: I hope you’re being good, sweet girl.
My thighs clench just a little and then I imagine him saying it with his body pressed to mine. I definitely like when he calls me that, but he needs to stop. I didn’t bring enough panties for this.
Me: Of course I am, Sir.
I can’t help but tease him a little as I follow up with a selfie, pulling the most innocent face I can muster. If I could bat my eyelashes in a picture to drive the point home, I would.
“Excuuuuuuuse me, who are you sending selfies to?” Wrinley whines on her way back from the bathroom. “Is that Daddy Ryker? Tell him this is my time and he can have you back in the morning.”
Shoving my phone in my bag, I purse my lips. “Don’t worry, he was just checking on me. He worries about me after all the Brad bullshit.”
“I bet he does,” she eyes me suspiciously, handing me a glass. “Here, I made you a frozen margarita.”
“Ohhhhh no. That’s not a good idea,” I protest as I try to hand it back to her. “How the fuck did you make margaritas so fast, anyway? I didn’t even hear the blender.”
“I’m a magician, bitch–or maybe you were just too engrossed in your phone to hear it.” Her eyebrow raises waiting for me to argue, but she’s forgotten how well I know her. I don’t bother responding, but I do stare into her blackened soul until she relents.
“Fine–have it your way. I bought them pre-frozen and I added extra alcohol, because isn’t 5%, like nothing these days?”
I shake my head, “Wait, don’t those have tequila in them? And you added vodka? Are you trying to get us fucked up?”
It’s gotta be bad to mix tequila and vodka, right? I feel like that’s totally a thing. I do want to drink with her, but if I get drunk, Ryker will hypothetically schmurder me–or worse, he’ll glare at me with those icy blues of his and bathe me in disappointment. That should be enough to keep anyone from making bad decisions.
Shoving the cup back in my face, she whines, “It tastes fine to me. Just have one. Pleaaaaase.”
“Jesus, Wrin. You’re such a bad influence,” I accuse. “You realize, every time I’ve ever been in a messy situation, that you’re at the helm of it or at the very least directly involved right?”
Her face morphs into one of shock, mouth gaping. “Hey, that may be true, but you can’t deny I’ve also been the reason you’ve had some of your most fun. This is our thing, Ari. Don’t act like you’re new. You’re the good girl whose parents didn’t hold her tight enough and I’m the wild one whose parents held on a little too tight. Opposites attract. Yin and yang.”
As much as her brutal honesty stings, I know she’s right. We balance each other out. I bring her back down to earth and she helps me not feel so weighed down. Except, she makes it sound like she’s not good . She may not want people to see that side of her, so I keep it to myself. But I see her. I’ll always see her.
She’s still staring at me, pitifully working me over to get me to say yes. I can’t say no to her and realistically, any alcohol will be out of my system by morning. “Fine. Give it here.”
She jumps up and down, bursting with excitement, before plopping next to me on the couch. “Now, tell me everything.”
Grabbing the cup from her, I take a sip and nearly cough. Jesus, this is strong.
We talk about my arrangement with Ryker and how strictly non-sexual it is, although I intentionally leave out that most days it feels very sexual, because I know she’ll make a bigger deal of if than she should. I also tell her about our first experience at Gravity, when he made me come from pain alone, again leaving out the specifics. I most certainly do not tell her that he made me pleasure myself to completion in front of him, because I’m not even ready to accept that yet.
“How big is his dick?” she asks, positioning her two index fingers about eight inches apart, while indicating with her face that I should pull them farther apart or push them closer together, to provide her with a proper visual.
I smack her hands down and giggle. “I have not seen nor will I see his dick, Wrinley Jaymes!”
“I bet it’s huge.” She raises an eyebrow as she pulls her fingers apart about ten inches. “Like your very own Cocktimus Prime!”
My palm slaps my face. She’s seriously obsessed with all things dick. I don’t think she’s capable of seeing a man on the street without checking out his crotch. If a guy has a bulge, she’ll be the first to notice. It’s a special talent that, if you ask her, she’s proud to possess.
I laugh and take another swig of my margarita, because Cocktimus Prime is pretty fucking funny. “You’re crazy, but I do love that and I may have to use it.”
“You laugh but it's a real thing in anime porn,” she deadpans followed by a robotic sounding voice. “ I am Cocktimus Prime and I am here to end the battle .”
I don't even want to know how she knows this. “I believe you, nerd.” And then we break out into hysterical laughter.
Once we come down from our laughing fit, we sit in silence for a beat, and my face is starting to feel fuzzy from the alcohol. I’m not drunk, but I do feel pretty good. Loose and carefree for a change. Life has been so stressful and chaotic lately. It’s a relief to just be present.
Wrinley cocks her head. “You like him don’t you?” There’s a seriousness in her voice that wasn’t there moments ago.
“I don’t like him like you think I like him, but I do feel safe with him. But he’s Mom’s ex and he’s forty four... old enough to be my actual father. Even if I did like him, nothing can come of it, because we’re friends and he doesn’t want more than that.”
“Arabella Olivia Bradley,” she scolds. “Who gives a flying fuck knuckle what the world thinks about your ages. I know it’s so cliché, but age really is just a number.”
“Did you just pull out my full name?”
“I did, and I regret nothing. I’ve known your stubborn ass for a long time, which means I’m allowed to use whatever variation of your name I choose.” She knows I hate when people use my full name, but she also knows she’s the only one that can get away with it.
“Fine. I’ll allow it.”
“Seriously, I can see it in your eyes that you like him. I’m not blind.” She sets her drink down and pulls my hands into hers. “And why is your basket case of a mother even a part of this conversation? It’s not like you stole him out from under her. They broke up years ago, for fuck’s sake. Wait–did you?”
“Did I what, Wrin?”
“Did you and Ryker,” she lowers her voice to a whisper. “You know–have a thing back then?”
I pull my hands from hers and yell, “No! Fucking hell–ew! I was underage! What kind of psycho pedo do you think he was–is? And do you really think I’d do that to my mother? I can barely stomach the thought of being with him now because I know how much it would hurt her. She really liked him.”
She breaks into a giggle as she swipes her hair off her face. “I know, boo. I’m just fucking with you. But really, If you like him, I don’t see anything wrong with letting him show you more than just BDSM–if you know what I mean.” Then she’s motioning her hand to her mouth and fake gagging like she’s choking on a cock.
Maybe she’s right and I can be with him. Age is just a number. “But he doesn’t want more with me. He’s made it very clear that this can’t cross the line into something sexual.” My face feels hot as the thought occurs to me that it kind of already has crossed that line?
“My love, he’s a hot blooded man. You can’t tell me he doesn’t think with his cock, just like the rest. He just needs a little push, especially after your little scene at the club where he told you he was hard .” She puts extra emphasis on that last part, just to drive the point home. “So let’s give him a little nudge.”
The alcohol in my system hasn’t dulled my senses or impaired my ability to think straight, but it does have me feeling bold enough to agree with her. Part of me wants to see how he’ll react. Will he keep his walls up or let them fall and give in to his impulses? The other part of me is terrified he’ll reject me, seeing me as nothing more than a naive, young girl that needs a little help.
But I’m not a naive young girl. I’m not a girl at all. I’m a woman–with needs. Needs that he’s recently said I can’t satisfy without his permission.
“You’re right,” I tell my best friend, standing and pulling out my phone. “I need another drink if I’m going to do this.”
“Wait, wait,” she stops me. “Start with a selfie–a suggestive one–of your tits. But make it classy. You don’t want to show all your goods at once.”
I down the rest of my margarita and we take a few very suggestive photos that have me feeling brazen, because I look pretty damn hot. Then with a sly grin, I send my favorite and wait.