25. Awa
Chapter twenty-five
Awa
Ipour the contents of the plastic bag into a skillet and watch as the blocks of frozen sauce slowly melt.
My mom would gasp in horror if she saw me eating beef and broccoli noodles from a freezer bag, but on nights when there's no fancy catered event or client dinner, I'm definitely not in the mood to cook.
I stir the bubbling mixture and realize I'm not in the mood to eat tonight, either.
Not now that I know our connection was nothing more than tawdry gossip to Noah.
I suspected, and his disappearing act afterwards left little to misinterpret, but still.
I was just some silly girl who fell for the bad boy with the killer smile. It's so cliché, it's embarrassing.
I never meant to hurt you, he said, as if there could be any other outcome when he went silent after our earth-shattering night, then boasted about it to his sister right before our lunch meeting.
Obviously it wasn't earth-shattering to him, I seethe, scraping the bottom of my pan in my impotent rage.
After today's nightmare, all I want to do is change into my fluffy robe and slippers, pour myself a disgustingly large goblet of Bitburger—the closest I can get to the La Gazelle they have back home—and veg out in front of the TV.
Ideally, my dinner would appear hot and steaming in front of me with just a thought, but alas, the technology has yet to catch up to the needs of a busy career woman.
I take a large gulp from my goblet as I stir my meal, ensuring the sauce evenly coats the noodles, beef, and broccoli.
If not for my 8:00 AM call with the partners tomorrow, I'd chug the whole thing at once, refill it, then repeat, until I was drunk enough to forget my fight with Noah, my lunch with Camila, and even the terrible call with my mother from a few days ago.
Unfortunately, I have both an early meeting and the great misfortune of almost debilitating hangovers when I drink to excess.
If I indulged the way I want to, I'd literally have to take the day off, and then Noah would probably think it was because of him.
That I'm not strong enough to handle sharing space with him.
Playing into my role of jilted lover, despite the fact that we never even fucked.
"Thank God for that," I mutter bitterly, and I don't know if it's a lie.
On one hand, if we had gone all the way, he would've been my first, and there's no way I wouldn't have fallen head over heels in love with him. I was halfway there already.
On the other, college is one of the last places where you can make a mistake without major consequences that could impact the rest of your life.
It's when women dye their hair, or get a tattoo, or do nude performance art like Sybil did for a few weeks the summer after sophomore year.
It's also when you bang the hot guy that you shouldn't just because you know it'll be amazing.
But you can't do that as an adult. Well, you shouldn't.
You can dye your hair as long as it doesn't violate your work's dress code.
You can get a tattoo, but it can't be impulsive; it has to be well-thought out and meaningful, and preferably hidden under clothes.
Nude performance art is out too, not that I would ever do that.
And fucking the guy you know is bad news?
I sigh wistfully, plate my dinner, and sink into the plush cushions of my couch with a groan.
You can't fuck the guy you know is bad news.
As an adult, you're supposed to know better than that.
I do know better than that. What I don't know is why, even after the embarrassment of lunch and an even more embarrassing—and public!
—argument, I still can't stop thinking about Noah.
Was he the one that got away, or is my celibacy starting to impair my judgement?
I might not be built for casual relationships, but maybe a one-night stand is in order if Noah's got me twisted up like this.
Or maybe I'm postponing the inevitable, I consider, as the 1997 remake of Rodgers a woman that men can't help but fall for…
even those in the habit of walking away. Noah wouldn't have ghosted her.
Twenty minutes later, my plate and goblet are empty, but my mind is still swimming with memories.
Regrets. Why couldn't I keep my distance like he could?
Why was I the only one who felt something that night?
And why the hell am I thinking about it, thinking about him, all these years later?
There's certainly been enough time and dick to wipe him from my memory.
I blow out a frustrated breath, turn off the movie I've barely watched, and practically throw my dishes into the sink. I'm agitated.
It's too early to go to sleep, but I'm too wound up to even think of getting any work done.
Work is just a crutch, anyway. A safe place to hide where no one questions if I take on more hours to avoid my empty apartment.
No one cares if I skip over my whole life chasing a promotion I'm starting to worry might never come.
I don't need to think about that now, though. All I need tonight is…a release. A release that no one has to know about.
I sit back down on the couch and slip my fingers beneath the waistband of my pajama bottoms; my panties are already damp with arousal. Merde.
I hesitate for the briefest moment, not sure this is the best idea. It's one thing when he's just a memory, but when I'm sure to see him the next day? Forced to work side by side with tension that's equal parts sensual and agonizing?
After a fortifying breath, I decide I can have this—a little fantasy to take the edge off. Just enough to keep me from combusting…or wringing his neck.
In my fantasy, Noah is sitting next to me. Not touching, but close enough to feel his body heat. Close enough to know he's struggling to hold himself in check.
His suit jacket is in a heap by the door, and his tie is long gone. He looks at me with the same intensity that Prince Christopher has for Cinderella; like I'm a tall glass of water and he's just walked for hours in the desert. I tease my clit to the thought of that look. Drink from me.
He places his hand on my thigh lightly at first, then more firmly as his control slips. When I don't push him away, he pounces, bringing his body flush with mine until my back hits the cushions and he's fully on top of me.
God, he feels good!
My breath hitches as I imagine the masculine weight of him.
His solid chest flattening my breasts. The ridge of his erection wedging itself between the cleft of my pussy so tightly, he can feel my wetness even through two layers of fabric.
I'm soaking for him. Dripping with years of pent-up desire.
Aching with something bordering on desperation.
He takes my mouth with the same ferocity I remember, the apparent ardor that tricked me into thinking what happened between us was real. That it meant something to him.
He plunges his tongue in and out of my mouth, mimicking the way his dick will invade me.
Conquer me. He won't be sweet. I don't want him to be.
I bite his lip, earning a nearly sinister smirk before he grabs the hem of both my pajama bottoms and panties and yanks down, exposing the roundness of my belly, the dusting of hair on my mound, the moisture coating my inner thighs.
This is as far as it got before. But not tonight. Tonight, I don't even have a chance to catch my breath before he shoves down his pants and pushes into me, raw and rough.
He's big. Bigger than I remember because he's even more turned on than before. Pistoning inside me. Muttering blasphemy against the skin of my neck, my mouth, my breasts.
"God, you're beautiful."
"I've wanted this for so long."
"You feel even better than I imagined."
"I should've never left that morning."
His words, paired with the exquisite friction of his length against my G-spot, light me up inside. I feel myself teetering on the edge of something. Something big. Something that he wouldn't be able to ignore this time, even with all his logic and plans and rules.
"Fuuuuck!" he groans as he cums inside me, the pulsing of his cock triggering my own release.
In reality, simultaneous orgasms are a myth. I'd also never let a man go raw our first time together, no matter how horny I was. But in my head?
I bite my lip as I rub my clit harder and faster, my orgasm drenching my fingers.
In my head, I can be whoever I want to be. Just like Cinderella. And who I want to be obviously wants Noah to fuck my brains out. Given the new rift between us, the fantasy will have to do.