CHAPTER 32
Harvey
I’m thriving.
I never expected it, but since the breakup, I’ve felt lighter than I have in years.
I’m killing my training. I’m even wearing ripped jeans. I can’t remember the last time I wore jeans.
To top it all off, I finally gave my old job at the tattoo parlor a call. The owner, Eddy, has no problem bringing me on in a part-time job as I see fit. We’ll be meeting soon to discuss the details.
I spent the weekend at my parents’ with Henrik. Today’s Wednesday, and I feel uplifted after PT.
Once we’re done, Audrey calls Claire to ask her to bring her period pads during lunch break, and we head to the school together. That’s how we end up eating at a shawarma place near Audrey’s school, and the public stares my way aren’t lacking.
My heart’s beating fast, my hands are sweaty, and I can taste the blood oozing out of the side of my lip from biting on it.
I wish I were home, in my room.
I can’t handle the stares.
I can’t handle the looks of pity.
It’s so much easier to be cooped up in my room.
“Don’t mind the staring. They probably never saw a hot guy in a wheelchair before. You know, with the typical ads people see on TV and all,” Audrey says.
“ Audrey! ”
“What?” She looks at her sister like she’s silly for berating her as she shrugs. “It’s true.”
Claire shakes her head and urges us to go find a seat, but not before touching my hand in reassurance.
I don’t want it.
At least I don’t want to need it.
But fuck if it helps. To have her here with me as I wheel through the crowd while some teenagers stare at me like I’m a monkey at the circus.
I wish I didn’t care.
I wish I could tell them to cherish every day while they’re teens before life fucks them sideways.
“Let’s pick a corner, shall we?” Audrey directs us toward a private corner, and I’m grateful.
When Claire comes back with our food, I try and shove money in her purse, but she bats my hand away, saying I feed her all the time.
Audrey has the biggest smirk on her face when she notices the flirty little moment between her sister and me. I’m sure she’s going to tease us about it, but instead she shares a story about the period scare she could’ve had.
It’s entertaining as hell really.
Claire’s beet red, but I don’t mind. The kid’s amusing, and she tells compelling stories. Plus, it manages to make me relax after panicking over the public scrutiny I felt.
When we’re done, we drop Audrey off in front of her school and head back to my place together. The weather’s been nice, and I can’t help noticing the impact it’s had on my mood lately.
To go out and get some fresh air again.
To experience life with Claire.
I’m staring at her when we’re sitting on the couch later, she in her jeans and fitted long-sleeved white shirt as she’s reading Little Women to me.
“There are so many wrong things in this story,” I say thoughtfully. “Good things too, of course.”
She nods. “Yes, of course there is. But it was written in the nineteenth century. We have to be mindful of that.”
She reads the rest of the story until we finally finish the book, continuously debating the Jo, Amy, and Laurie fictional love triangle.
Then she asks me if I want to see the most recent Little Women movie. When I agree, mostly for her benefit, since she seems excited to watch it together, she grabs the remote and turns on the TV.
When she finds the movie, I can’t help reliving every feeling I’ve ever had for her as she shoots me a look full of respect and something else.
“Claire,” I mutter, “come here.”
Her face changes when she notices my tone of voice, and suddenly she looks as if she’s longing for something. She settles in front of me, then her lips part, and I’m hard already. That’s all it takes with Claire.
I’ve never understood why.
Maybe because there was never any pressure, because I wasn’t with her.
Maybe because she’s never treated me like I’m any less of a man. Rather, she’s dwelled on how special I am since we met. Even when I wanted to hate her, my pull toward her was stronger.
“Yes?” she asks coyly.
“Kneel,” I tell her simply.
Her brow arches, and her eyes widen in response, but she indulges me. She drops the remote on the couch and kneels between my legs.
“Thank you, for today.” I caress her jaw.
I sense her shiver beneath my touch. “Harvey…I thought you said—”
“I know.” I nod, touching her lips now. “I know I said we’d take it slow. We should, but I also really want you.”
She swallows, and her eyes glisten at my words. I hope she believes me because they’re true.
I’m tired of waiting.
I’m no longer tied to Gemma.
I want Claire.
Why on earth would I keep wasting our time when we could be getting to know each other better and I could finally have a taste of her?
She leans her body closer to my chest. “I feel the same way, just so you know.”
The way she stares at me is unreal. How such an innocent stare could hold so much meaning and sensuality is beyond me. She gives me a small smile before crashing her lips against mine, electrifying my insides. It’s like the blood in my veins is flowing with ease.
My heart is pumping and singing.
I’m renewed.
I’m happy.
When Claire kisses me, it’s as if the sun will never set.
I grab her face as her hands slip around my forearms. I treat her like she’s delicate even though she’s anything but—she’s beyond strong.
We stare at each other with longing before I seal our lips together again.
Her kisses are perfect.
Her mouth melts against mine so perfectly.
I’m lucky to have met her. A little voice in my head reminds me that I wouldn’t have met her if it wasn’t for the accident, but I push the thought away as quickly as it comes.
I don’t want to think about it.
I don’t want to give the thought any merit.
Perhaps it’s true, perhaps not.
Instead, I focus on the feel of her lips and the magic they create inside me. If anyone would’ve told me when I was younger that one day a kiss would feel like this, I would’ve told them to lay off it.
She lifts up my T-shirt, and the familiar anxiety starts to creep in until she takes off her own long-sleeved shirt, revealing nothing but a white bra underneath.
Her tits look perfect.
I’m in awe of her in every way.
Her forefinger traces slowly, sensually, all over my chest. My upper body is tingling in the best way. Then I lean forward, grabbing her gently by the neck. “Claire…” I whisper in her ear. “Reach down and touch yourself.”
She nods, unzipping her jeans, giving me a glimpse of her white underwear. Her fingers move beneath it, while her other hand is holding mine, our fingers woven together.
“Please touch yourself,” she pleads, seeming breathless.
My heart rate picks up, and I want to deny her and object and stop the whole thing right here and now. I’ve done it many times with Gemma. But with Claire, somehow each sexual step has always been easier to bear. Maybe I feel as though she won’t judge me for my mishaps.
I nod, watching her touch herself, which in turn encourages me to do the same.
I picked the wrong day to wear jeans—this would’ve been much easier with joggers on. Either way, I unzip my pants and reach down.
I keep mentally reminding myself to chill. I’m as hard as a rock. I also peed right before we settled on the couch.
I drop my hand and start stroking slowly, while my other hand cannot resist grabbing her breasts. I push down her bra straps and pull down a cup, staring at her nipple as I touch myself.
“Harvey…”
“Yes?”
“I’m almost there,” she pants.
“That’s good, babe.” I lean closer to her. It hides what I’m doing a little bit and reduces my anxiety. “Except I didn’t give you permission to let go yet, now did I?”
She moans and shakes her head, and I swear to God, I’ll come in my hand in two seconds. I want to keep teasing her, but I can’t, knowing I don’t have much time left myself, and I can’t trust my body jack shit when it comes to this.
“Please,” she begs. Her breathing is labored, her chest moving with each rhythm.
“Alright, Claire. Come on your pretty fingers for me.” I squeeze her neck, feeling her pulse against my hand, then do it again.
And she comes, and luckily, she’s too distracted to notice my own pleasure thereafter. I moan, tilting my head back, and a sound I’ve never made before catches in my throat.
It takes me a minute to realize that this is the first time I’ve been able to come with a woman since the accident.
The notion itself is enough to mess with my head.
We stare at one another, both satiated.
She laughs and sits on the couch next to me, her jeans still unzipped, giving me a glimpse of her creamy skin. Her nude lipstick has worn off, but her cheeks look as flushed as ever.
She cuddles next to me, resting her head against my shoulder. Then we end up watching the movie.
And all is well in this moment.
“Ahh, life is great. The ladies love me, I’m a genius, I live with my brother,” Henrik says, tossing his keys on the kitchen counter when he comes in later that evening.
I snicker. “I highly doubt two of those three things are true.”
“Don’t pretend you don’t love having me around,” he teases as he reaches for some chips in the kitchen before sitting down on the opposite end of the couch.
“Of course!” I answer sarcastically. The truth is, I do love having him here. It’s been nice. Sure, he has his own stuff to do, but when we do hang out, it means a lot to me.
I’ve felt a mixture of intense happiness all day and, after Claire left, some guilt for being so happy post-Gemma.
“What? You get laid or something?”
I roll my eyes. As if I’d ever admit to it. What Claire and I share is worth keeping to ourselves.
“Falling for the hottie even more?” Henrik presses on.
“Hen, for God’s sake, she has a name—use it.”
“Yeah, yeah, Claire.” His eyebrow shoots up in defiance.
“I am.” I look away, trying to contain the joy I feel.
“You seem happy.” This baffles him, and I understand why—the breakup. “She makes you really happy, doesn’t she?”
I nod, looking at him, knowing he needs to hear it from me. I know he’s Gemma’s friend as well, so I understand that for the longest time he saw Claire as a threat to our little trio.
But Gemma threatened that dynamic as well.
It won’t be the same with Claire, yet it can be just as amazing.
I’m sure that with time, they’ll get along.
“Alright.” He nods. “Claire it is.”
And that’s that.