52. Sophie
FIFTY-TWO
SOPHIE
While Foster is off with Pete, I have a chance to prepare for date Y. After grabbing my half-packed suitcase from the car, I start packing the rest with Foster’s things. I had casually asked about any set plans he may have for the long weekend, and after he had said no, I went ahead and booked a yurt in the middle of the forest.
Finding date ideas that start with Y is harder than I expected. I’d thrown out a yellow theme early on and had spent a week flip-flopping between forcing myself to do yoga and a Yogi Bear marathon and then like magic, I’d seen an acquaintance from the university post about a rental yurt. I reached out, and she said bookings wouldn’t be starting until next month, but she’d happily let us stay if I was able to get to campus to pick up the key.
So after I’ve packed, I jump in my car and head to campus.
Campus is quiet due to it being Saturday, but since the summer term is shorter, there are still students and staff dotted around, working at tables in the atrium I pass through to get to the faculty offices in the humanities department. The atrium was my favorite place to study. It’s also where I met Gregory for the first time. In line at the café, he’d bumped into me, and I’d dropped my coffee. He’d been almost over the top with his apologies. He’d offered to replace it, then insisted I order something fancier than a coffee. I hadn’t wanted anything fancy—I liked my simple coffee—but I’d done it. He’d brought that up a lot to people in the beginning. Passing it off as if he was saving the poor student from having to drink boring cheap coffee.
I had done what he had wanted right from the start. I hadn’t had a chance.
My phone vibrates in my hand, and I look down to find a picture of Pete, red-faced, crutches blurry as he runs to Foster.
“Sophie?”
Ice travels down my back. I know that voice too well.
He’s standing there in a polo and chinos, his Saturday uniform. Why is he here? He always hated being here on the weekend. I wish Foster was with me. Wish his hand was in mine keeping me centered.
Gregory steps toward me, and part of me wants to turn and run back to my car. Get back to Foster. But there is another part of me that wants to ask a question and is dead set on not leaving until I get an answer. That is the part that wins.
“Did you ever love me?” I ask. He stops immediately, clearly caught off guard by the question.
“I…” he begins and then looks away. He’s going to say no. Going to laugh at how gullible I was. How young and stupid. “I did until I didn’t.”
I blink back at him. “What?”
He takes another step. “I never lied about loving you, not in the beginning.”
“When… when did you stop?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Gradually things that I used to find cute weren’t cute anymore.”
“Things I couldn’t…”
“Things that would never change because they were part of you. Things I couldn’t change about you.” Despite his attempts , hangs in the air between us.
“You loved who I could have been, not who I was,” I say quietly.
“Maybe that’s right.” He chuckles as if five years of my life were nothing to him.
I square my shoulders and force myself to look into his eyes. “I’d like to thank you, Gregory.”
“For?” That cocky grin appears as if he’s expecting me to compliment him. He’s used to that from people.
“For showing me what love isn’t. For demonstrating so wholeheartedly how I never want to be treated again.” My entire body is shaking, and I wouldn’t be surprised if my face is as red as a beet. But I feel something shift inside me. Like a door creaking open.
I see his mouth open, but I’m done now. His time is up, and I lift my hand to stop him. “Nope,” I say.
A smile lifting the corners of my mouth in triumph, I leave him standing there to stew in a word he’s certainly not accustomed to, and continue down the hall, each step becoming lighter than the last.
“Honey, I’m home!” he calls when he comes through the door. I close the book I’ve been failing to read for the past thirty minutes and make my way over. Making sure to give Gary proper time to greet Foster before I throw myself at him. “God, I love coming home to you,” he rasps against my neck as he presses me against the wall.
“Mmm,” I hum. “I’m also a big fan of you coming home to me.” I gently pry his lips from my skin. “But we have somewhere to be.”
“Is this related to your fantasy?”
“You remember that, eh?”
He pulls back, his lips quirking to the side. “Remember it? I haven’t stopped thinking about it,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss me again.
“It’s not actually, but…” I stop to think because maybe it would work… no, probably not, but maybe. There’s no balcony, but there is a deck. In a forest against a tree—oh, maybe that appeals to me too. I wince thinking about the bark. That could be painful.
“Hey, where’d you go?” Foster stares down at me, searching my eyes for some kind of clue.
“Just thinking. Fantasy talk later. Go shower quickly, and we’ll leave.”
“Wanna join me?” He pulls me toward the bathroom.
I shake my head. “No time for that, shoo.” I pull my hand away, watching as he turns and pouts at me from the door. “Oh, stop it.”
His responding grin grows as he gives me a once-over. “Can you blame me?”
“Yes, hurry up.”
I can hear him laughing even after he closes the door, and I get to work gathering the suitcase I’d hidden in the closet and throwing the prepared food into a cooler.
“What’s up?” Foster asks when I get back inside to find him standing in the living room, a towel low around his waist, his hair standing on end every which way.
I’d reply, but I can’t seem to make my lips move. He’s a tattooed ginger Adonis. I know the strength in those arms and the feel of those abs beneath my touch. I’ve kissed each of his tattoos, traced them with my fingers and tongue. I’m the nightly beneficiary of all the ways that beautiful body can move.
“I need you to get dressed, now please,” I falter, my voice almost an octave lower than normal.
“Should I be worried about how cagey you’re being?” he asks, taking a step toward me.
I hold my hand up and take a step back. “No, it’s a good reason, I promise, but you really need to get dressed.”
He doesn’t stop, not until his chest meets my outstretched hand. He wraps his hand around my wrist and lifts it, laying a gentle kiss on my palm, chiseling away at my resolve. How he can do that with his lips on the palm of my hand, is beyond me.
“Only because you asked so nicely,” he says, dropping my hand and pulling me in for a searing kiss that all but forces me to slide my hands into his hair and pull him in more.
I’m lost in it, floating somewhere beyond the physical world. The feel of his hands sliding over mine, pulling them away from his head brings me back into my body.
He steps back, letting my arms fall to my side, the sensation of his damp hair stamped on my hands.
“Sorry, sunshine, I’ve got somewhere to be, apparently.” He grins and backs away from me, smirking the whole way to his bedroom.
“Okay, well, this is very cool,” Foster says, admiring the interior of the yurt before sitting on the edge of the bed and reaching for me.
I could say no, could tell him we have a hike to do before it gets too dark, but I have a hard time convincing myself that climbing a hill is going to be better than climbing him. Sexual mountaineering will always win out if the mountain is Foster.
When I stop between his legs, he doesn’t do anything other than set his hands gently on my hips, his thumbs skimming over the skin there. Eventually his arms wrap around me and he pulls me in, resting his head on my stomach. It’s not what I was expecting, and it takes me a minute to recalibrate.
Running my hands through his hair I gently ease his head back. “What’s wrong?”
He shakes his head and smiles at me. “Nothing. I can’t believe I get to do this.”
“Hug me?”
“Hug you.” His hands slip under my shirt and skim across my skin. “Touch you.” He pushes the fabric higher and presses his lips to my stomach over and over again. “Kiss you.”
I think I’m melting, physically disappearing into the floor until I feel his arms around me and my view changes. The top of his head disappears, and I’m left looking at the ceiling of the yurt before his face comes into view and his lips meet mine. I’m vaguely aware of the way his hand is traveling down my body, disappearing under the waistband of my tights. “Fuck you,” he murmurs against my lips. I like this list of things he’s reciting. I like what he’s doing physically even more.
His kisses become more demanding as his fingers go to work. A gasp escapes as I break away from his kiss, tipping my head back as my hips arch greedily into his hand. “Need…” I barely get the word out as his fingers dip into me, a tease of what’s to come.
“Pete let me know this morning that he thinks he should start with a shorter race,” Foster says as we make our way carefully down a steep, rocky section of the hill.
“So no more marathon dreams?”
“No.” He turns, holding his hand out for me once he’s made it past the worst of it. “I think he is still very much wanting to do that one day, or thinks he does. But he’s impatient.” He grins at me. “I’ve been trying to work on that with him for two years now.”
When the terrain levels out he keeps my hand in his.
“I think when someone has been told by society that they can’t do something for most of their life, waiting to prove people wrong may become a bit of a burden.” I walk along the trunk of a fallen tree, balancing easily with Foster’s assistance. “I mean, we live in such an instant gratification society now that waiting for anything is hard. Imagine deciding you’re going to do something and then being told you can’t yet and you’ll have to train for a while first. Painful.” I hop down from the log and pull Foster to a stop. “What you’re doing with him, for him, is really great. Most people would have said some lovely empty things and then let him do it alone. He’ll remember this forever. You’ll be the guy who not only told him he could do it, but helped him do it.”
God, I want to kiss the smile he smiles at me and never stop. “I think he’ll do it. It may take a long time, but he’ll do it.”
“And when he does, we’ll be at the finish line screaming like maniacs.”
Foster raises his hand and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “I can’t wait for that day, sunshine. It’s going to be a big one.”