15. Aspyn #2
My sex drive reminds me that I’m horribly unfulfilled as I moan softly and circle my hips back against Deacon, something wild inside me taking over as my sleepy body reacts to his.
I take slow breaths in my nose and out my mouth to try to calm the longing, but I feel somehow empty, and I’m dying to be filled with Deacon.
No. Don’t ruin your friendship. Don’t complicate things. Things are too wonderful as they are to change anything now.
Deacon’s hand moves down my belly and rests at the top of my panties, and he murmurs something low in his throat. He’s got to be awake by now. The question is, do I care?
I gasp at the way my clit throbs at his nearness.
“Morning,” he whispers, inching even closer to me.
His hand is still dangerously low on my belly. I burn with desire, but quickly decide to run.
“I should go get dressed.” He drops his hand and lets me stand up.
“Sorry about my hand placement,” he whispers. “Is it time to get up?”
“The alarm will go off in five minutes. It’s moving day!” I feign enthusiasm, run off to the guest room, and then I touch myself until I come hard, my back arching and head falling into my mound of pillows.
With a rosy face, I brush my teeth, my slightly-wavy hair, and then pull on a grungy outfit and meet Deacon downstairs in the kitchen. Since we already moved my espresso machine in, he has an iced espresso ready for me, topped with whipped cream, just the way I like it.
When our eyes meet, there’s something that passes between us that’s new. It nearly sizzles.
I gulp and say, “Thank you,” as I take the glass mug and guzzle.
There’s still a pulse and throb between my thighs, and my breath comes out heavy as we fall into silence, drinking our respective beverages at the kitchen table.
Deacon opens a package of donuts and hands me a plate.
They’re my favorite kind, the ones with powdered sugar and crumbles on top.
Deacon stands, grabs a glass of milk for me, and smiles as he hands it over.
“They really are better dunked,” I insist.
He leans and kisses the top of my head and then sits down at my side. “Big day ahead. You ready for this?”
My heart beats out of my chest as he stares at me. What has come over me?
“I’m beyond ready. After I have another donut, let’s go do this.” I grin at him, and he reaches his hand toward my face and cups my cheek, staring at me adoringly.
“You’ve got this, Beck. Today’s the day to leave the past behind. By the end of the day, your bedroom set will be in the extra primary bedroom, and your monstrosity of a blender will be taking up half of the extra space on my countertop.”
“I packed the margarita fixings, and I labeled the box well. We can celebrate with margs tonight!”
I flash him a gleeful look and dunk my donut for exactly eleven seconds before shoving it in my mouth.
“Did I ever tell you that you eat like a T. rex?” Deacon side-eyes me as my cheeks puff out with the large bite I’ve just taken.
“Heyyy,” I say around the donut, but it proves his point. “Don’t make me laugh!” I practically choke, taking a few more sips of milk until the donut is more manageable, and I finally swallow.
“Sorry about the mean, accurate thing I said,” Deac tells me, patting my shoulder as he stands up and texts something on his phone.
That’s when it occurs to me. If I wait too long to act on the feelings I have for this man, I could lose him entirely.
How the hell would I feel if he moved on without me?
Fear paralyzes me, and I stare straight ahead, my back straight and stiff. But he’s been waiting on me for a decade…can’t I count on him to wait a little longer? Wait until I’m ready?
“You okay?” Deacon senses my subtle mood change.
“Yeah, it’s nothing.”
But it’s not nothing. Heat surges through my body when I stand up and look at Deacon in his tight black T-shirt, remembering how his muscles had felt beneath my hand last night. Remembering how his body had fit perfectly with mine when we woke up pasted together under the covers.
I shake my head to clear it, adding, “Never mind.”
Deacon tilts his head, and I feel certain I’m see-through and he’s plucking the thoughts from my brain because he looks almost satisfied as he says, “Suit yourself. Should we get going?”
We part ways to go in different cars, and when we arrive at the house I used to share with Sean, he’s thankfully not in there anywhere.
Our friends arrive, and then Jett carefully backs the trailer up the long driveway and opens it up.
Everyone jumps in to help, and before we know it, the trailer is full of furniture and boxes.
At the last minute, I pack Sean’s PlayStation, which had been a Christmas gift from me, and add it to the old Wii I still love to exercise on in a big box, then toss it in my car. The trailer is full by noon.
An hour later, I’ve cleared out everything I cared to carry with me into the next chapter of my life.
This is the end of ten years of settling. I’ll never put myself last again.
I peer at myself in the full-length mirror on the front hall closet, and I see my own reflection. I look lighter, brighter, and happier than I have in ages, and I say to myself, “My happy era is next.”
With that in mind, I set my key on the kitchen counter, put my hand in Deacon’s, then slam the door behind me so hard the “Welcome” wreath I made in a crafting class clatters off the door. Deacon grabs it at the last minute, and he insists we take it with us.
I don’t so much as look over my shoulder at the home I’m leaving behind.
We drive separately back to Deacon’s house, about eight miles from Sean’s, and I wonder if I’ll ever take this particular drive again. None of my friends live near Sean.
A new barista somewhere was going to have to get to know my favorite order wherever I ended up long-term, and I’d have to find a new neighborhood pub for Thirsty Thursday with the girls.
The thought excites me. I'm ready to usher in the new to replace the stagnant old haunts that do nothing but remind me of ten years lost.
By the time Deacon and I arrive, our friends have unloaded most of the boxes onto the lawn, and they’re waiting for us to direct the furniture into their new spots.
We join in and ease the living room furniture down the steps into the basement, while my bed and all my things go up to the spacious secondary suite on the second floor.
By four, the girls are helping me make my bed.
“Seems like this will be a cozy living arrangement,” Tara tells me as she smooths out my duvet and fluffs a pillow. “All your stuff fits perfectly.”
“Yeah, I’m glad Deac is allowing me to be here.” I smile.
“Allowing you? He’s probably thrilled. Don’t you know he claims to hate living alone?” Marissa asks.
I shake my head, unaware. “Well, anyway, this will be a nice crash pad before I figure out what’s next for me.” I shrug. “I can’t see it being forever.”
Yes, you can. If you’re honest with yourself about your feelings…You can.
We climb onto the bed and gossip for a while, until Deacon shouts, “Pizza!” and we scramble to get downstairs and fill up our hungry bellies.
It occurs to me as I look around the living room—I have the best friends.
They’d all taken off work and eagerly shown up to lift heavy boxes and furniture and get me settled into my new temporary arrangement. And they’d done so happily.
I pass out cold beers to everyone and then propose a toast. “To the best friends a girl could ever ask for, and…new beginnings.”
We clink beers, and now it’s time to party.