Chapter 25 That Hand Flex Feeling
THAT HAND FLEX FEELING
MOLLY
Ihave been a floaty cotton candy puff trailing glitter behind me ever since he said he'd spend the night on Saturday, then proceeded to bless me with a string of orgasms. We played salmonella roulette and ate cold pizza at midnight, then tumbled back into bed.
Sunday, the world felt brand new. Because grumpy, restrained Grey all but disappeared.
The rare gift of his laughter came easy, that twisted up restraint in him finally easing, . Finally letting him go, for a moment at least.
All he needed was permission.
I can't help but wonder if he'd give me his heart, if he'd just give himself permission to. But when the thought crops up, I brush it away. Saying goodbye Sunday night was a special sort of torture. And despite being exhausted, I barely slept at all, hating how empty my bed was.
The week was a million years long, but it’s finally Friday.
My phone has been busy with messages from Grey, all inside jokes and new jokes and a little bit of dirty stuff that left me flat out hungry by the time school let out, ----and my stomach had nothing to do with it.
He rushed over after practice, kissed me into bed for a little while, then we wolfed a bowl of chili. Which brings us to now.
Thanks to my last-ditch effort to keep him from leaving, I'm pinned to the front door by Grey's hips and lips, both of which are very busy, despite the ticking clock. We have a teacher's league game in an hour, and like a fool, I made plans.
To be fair, the plans were initiated by Carlin, and they were made prior to my blissed-out weekend. I do miss my friend though, and I know it'll be good to see him, but damn it's hard to let Grey go.
When he pulls away, I chase his mouth, but he only chuckles and thumbs my swollen lips.
"I've gotta go, Peaches."
I make a needy sound and am met with no resistance when I pull him back to me for another string of kisses.
"Carlin will be here any minute," he warns between kisses, his fingers in my hair, thumb stroking my jaw until he backs away for good.
I pout, sighing dramatically, which amuses him enough to press his lips to mine one last time. It does something hot and tingly to me when he lingers. It's like a promise.
With a sigh, I move away from the door--he takes my hand as he opens it, letting me out first. But when I pass the threshold, our fingers slide apart, our time over.
I've never felt so petulant as I do letting go of his hand.
He shuts the door before Scout can escape, then trots down the stairs.
I watch him the whole way, leaning against a post at the top of the stairs, admiring the way he moves, every.
step strong and certain. I know how capable he is, and so does he, but his confidence is tempered by that damnable restraint that keeps him from…
well, I'm actually not sure what, but I definitely want to know.
One of these days, I'll see him free to do as he wants.
He deserves that more than anyone I've ever known, I think.
"See you at the game, Peaches," he says, climbing into his truck with that smirk on his face.
One little look, and I'm flushed and smiling as I wave. "See you there."
Why's it even hot how he slings his arm on the back of the seat when he backs out of the driveway? It's ridiculous, what he does to me. I love it.
My phone rings in my pocket just as he disappears down the street, and the tone tells me it's a video call. Which tells me it's one or both of my parents. Mom, I see when it's in my hand. I sit on the top step as I answer, Mom's happy face lighting up my screen.
"Hey, Mama," I say with a smile. "What are you doin'?
"Hey, honey! Nothing, what are you up to?"
"Oh, not much," I answer but my cheeks warm. "Carlin's coming over here in a minute to hang out before the softball game tonight."
Her smile evaporates. "I hate that you're playing, I really do. You've already gotten a concussion! What if you, I don't know…break something? Get another concussion? It worries me."
I chuckle. "I know it does. That was a fluke, I swear. Don't worry about me. I took care of myself through the concussion." Kinda. "What do we say, Mama?"
She smiles when she sighs and rolls her eyes. "You're a big girl."
"That's right, and?"
"You can take care of yourself."
"And?"
"And I trust you," she concedes, though I know she doesn't believe herself, despite wanting to. For my sake, at least. "So, Carlin?" She waggles her brows. "What are y'all up to? Can we meet him when we come visit?"
"Mama, I'm too busy for a visit."
"You keep saying that. It's almost spring break, won't you have time then? You promised you'd come home, but now you're staying. Can't we at least come?"
"I think we should wait until the summer when I really have time to relax and I get the house fixed," I hedge.
"Hmph. We'll see. So, Carlin, huh?"
It's my turn to roll my eyes as I consider indulging the urge to tell her about Grey. "We're just friends."
"You keep saying that too," she teases, assessing me, "but you've got a…I don't know. A look about you."
"A look, huh?"
"You're all shiny and fresh. Did you get a new face cream?"
"Nope."
"Then it's a boy."
I smile at her conspiratorially for a second, then say, "I'm seeing somebody."
She lights up like a firecracker. "Oh, Molly! How long? Who is he? Why didn't you tell me? What does he do?"
I'm too busy laughing to hear the rest of her questions, thought the truth is, Dad's usually around, and he's the last person I'd tell.
Not until it's absolutely necessary. "Well, it's new, I haven't told anybody.
Um, let's see…he's a teacher at the high school, we have mutual friends.
You'd love him, Mama--everybody in town does.
He's lived here his whole life, only left for college then came right back to teach. "
"What's he teach?"
"Shop," I answer, keeping the coach part to myself. She'll go spelunking on the internet and figure it out if I say too much. "He's really handy--he's the one who's been helping out around the house."
"What's he like?" She's so eager, it's amusing.
"He's generous, kind, loves to be helpful. Keeps to himself. Mama, he was so locked up in his shell, I nearly needed a sledgehammer to crack it open. But once I did…" I sigh happily. "I've never known anybody like him."
"Sounds serious. Is it serious?"
"No, no. It's not serious." Lieees. "We're just…hanging out."
For a moment, she watches me thoughtfully, her amusement fading. "You know, I was once just hanging out with a guy, then ended up marrying him too young."
"Mama--" I warn.
"I'm not talking about you," she notes. "I'm talking about me.
" All of a sudden, she looks so sad. "I was too young--I didn't know myself.
Didn't know what I wanted. But then I…well, I was in it.
" When she catches sight of me, she must see my concern because she says, "Don't get me wrong, honey--I love your father.
I do. But I wish I'd waited just a bit. Wish I'd figured it all out a little better before I jumped in.
Don't let it get serious with this boy, okay? Date a while. Don't get penned in."
"Do you feel penned in by Dad?" I ask gently.
She sighs. Chuckles. "Sometimes. Don't you?"
I chuckle back--she knows I do. Mom worries. Dad controls.
"When we met, he was so…safe. After going with a long line of boys who strung me along, he was this calm, sweet breath of fresh air with a steady job and a house already, savings, for god's sake. He was responsible. Capable. Safe. But safe isn't the same as right."
Shocked, I open my mouth to ask one of twenty questions that just sprang into my brain, but the sound of tires on gravel snatch my attention--Carlin is pulling in. He waves. I wave back.
"Carlin's here, Mama."
Mom laughs, teasing, "Uh-huh. Just a friend. When I come for spring break, I'm gonna meet him!"
"I love you," I say pointedly but smiling.
"Love you too, chicken. Have fun. Don't get your brain smashed at that game!"
"Okay! Bye, Mama," I say on a laugh.
"Bye!"
There's no time to process what she said. Safe isn't right? Like, Dad isn't right? I can't get my head around it. A problem for later.
Carlin's all smiles as he gets out of his little old Toyota truck with a gift bag in his hand, and I watch him walk up as I stand. His sandy brown hair catches in a shaft of sunlight, a little longer on the top and a little unruly. His blue eyes twinkle, cheeks flushed beneath his freckles.
"Hey," I call, happy to see him like I knew I would be.
Carlin climbs the steps, saying, "Hey, girl," as I pull him into a hug. His arm is strong around my waist, and I laugh as he picks me up just enough to turn us around.
When he sets me down, I open the door and follow him inside.
"What'd you bring?" I ask as he passes.
Carlin turns, walking backward into the living room. "What, this? Just some goodies for you. A little missed you treat. Nothin' big."
He's so cute. Thoughtful. Like me.
Once upon a time, I wished I was into him. I even thought maybe I could…I don't know. Make myself? Now that I'm with Grey, I know better--there's no way to fake attraction. Either you've got it or you don't.
When I met Carlin through Cass at the beginning of the school year, we hit it off right away.
So well, in fact, that when he asked me out, I almost said yes.
But in the end, I asked if we could be friends, and he agreed, saying he'd rather have me as a friend than not at all.
He even went on some dates, said he was over it.
He's never made it weird, despite my suspicion that it's not quite over, as evidenced by the gift bag in his hand.
But then again, that's just Carlin. He's attentive, thoughtful, kind. And he's one of my best friends in town.
I close the door, shaking my head at him as he kneels to pet Scout, who meows and leans into his free hand.