20. Miley
R ohit’s hand on the small of my back steadies me as he guides me into the bar. I can admit in the privacy of my own brain that his warm yet firm touch is not altogether unwelcome. I probably just crave human touch, it’s been many years since I have been intimate with a partner. I have trust issues when it comes to men because of my past.
I have tried to date a few times after Harrison and none of those relationships ever went anywhere. When it got to date two or three and we took the relationship to the bedroom, that’s where things always imploded. No matter how long or hard we went, I’ve never been able to orgasm with another person after Harrison. So far, my partners didn’t know or didn’t care that I never found release—most have been too wrapped up in their own pleasure to give a shit—so obviously that went nowhere.
I’ve had other partners that were willing to try—and man, did they take it as the challenge of a lifetime—but I just couldn’t get there. I doubt it’s a medical issue because I can climax on my own with the help of a trusty battery-powered device. If I ever went to therapy, it would probably confirm my suspicion that my intimacy issues are psychological–rooted in an inability to let go enough to trust a partner. That wouldn’t be surprising after what went down with Harrison. But I’ve never really examined the matter with anyone, let alone a therapist.
Since no relationship can withstand that kind of barrier, I have just stopped trying. It’s been years since I was on a date, let alone touched by a man. That has to be the only reason my body is reacting so much to Rohit’s touch… at least, that’s what I tell myself.
My thoughts are interrupted when a gorgeous girl comes up to us. “Rohit,” she purrs, eyes trailing over him. “It’s so nice to see you again,” she shouts over the hum of the music in the background. She leans in and kisses his cheek while holding on to his arm with her hand.
She leaves her hand on him, drawing my eyes to his forearm for admittedly, not the first time. They are lean, corded, muscular, fit for a tennis coach, with bulging veins any anesthesiologist would drool over. My mouth waters and my mood darkens. What’s going on with me? I can’t possibly be feeling jealous over something that doesn’t belong to me.
She strokes her hand down his arm slowly and when she reaches his hand, she takes it in hers. Drawing him close, she says, “Let’s finish what we started last time. Come on.” She gives him a tug and he takes a stumble forward, like he lost his balance for a second. Even though I’m standing right next to him, she doesn’t even see me. Or she doesn’t care. He doesn’t really belong to me, so I guess he can do whatever the hell he wants, but I thought at least while Ruby is around, he’d continue to pretend to be my boyfriend. I guess not so much.
Rohit clears his throat and takes back his hand. He places it again on my back. “Yvette, this is my girlfriend, Miley.” I guess our fake relationship is back on, or was never off since I totally just spiraled in my head, for some unclear reason. I shoot a fake half-smile at the tall blonde.
“Ro, I know you better than that, I know you don’t do relationships, you’re too much of a playboy to settle down,” Yvette croons, still not bothering to even glance my way.
Is that true? I guess I don’t know anything about Rohit. I mean, I guess I knew he likes to go out and have a good time, but what he does when he leaves the bar, I’ve never wondered about. Until now.
Rohit shrugs sheepishly.
Yvette continues, “If you were interested in a relationship, I would have trapped you a long time ago.”
What he does in his spare time shouldn’t concern me, but in this moment, I can’t help playing the part of a jealous girlfriend. Not only would it be realistic in my farce, but it feels instinctual in my heart.
I place my hand on top of her slim manicured one and slowly remove it, letting it drop to her side.
“I guess he finally found the right trap to fall into,” I articulate with a sneer, then turn around and walk away, leaving Rohit gaping. If he wants to play along, he’ll follow.
A few seconds later, I feel his hand around my arm. He gently tugs, shifting me to face him. He has a sly smile on his face. “Miley, that was both terrifying and sexy as fuck.” He leans in close, so I can hear him better. “If we were dating for real, I’d kiss you right now.”
“Well, we’re not, so…” My gaze drops to his lips and I can’t finish my sentence. My mouth opens but no words come out, because I’m mesmerized by Rohit as he runs his tongue over his lower lip. My throat feels dry as I try to swallow. He catches me staring at him wantonly. The corners of his mouth quirk up with a knowing smirk.
He finishes my unspoken thought. “I mean, we could kiss. That’s what a couple in this situation would do, don’t you think?” He leans forward, but waits for my response.
A warmth settles over me before I snap out of my lusty haze. I start to shake my head slowly, because I know kissing him would be a terrible idea, but I pause. My body betrays my mind, and my lips part again. I inhale a deep breath in anticipation. I feel myself leaning closer. We are mere inches apart, and Rohit wraps his arm around my waist, pulling my body to his. My hand finds its way up his arm and circles the back of his neck. Rohit exhales a small grunt of approval, and I find myself pulling his face closer to mine when I hear a familiar voice.
“There you guys are!” Ruby calls out, grabbing both our hands and pulling us to the dance floor. The spell is broken. A dizzying rush washes over me, a heady combination of frustration with a touch of relief. Keeping up this charade is more taxing than I would have imagined. Rohit has so far been the ideal placebo boyfriend, but separating lust and play-acting is already proving challenging.
Charlie and Ruby lead the way to the dance floor, and through the jostle of the crowd, I end up right next to Rohit. I am further pushed into him as the music swells. His arm wraps around my waist, and then his breath brushes my ear. “Is this okay?” he whispers.
Seems silly to ask now, since I was just two seconds away from shoving my tongue down his throat, but I nod my agreement and press into him. The music is pounding in my ears. I learned to play classical music on the piano, but in all honesty, I love all types of music. My body starts to move to the beat as the song takes over.
Unsurprisingly, Rohit is an excellent dancer. We move our hips in sync to the music. I turn around and grind into him. The world falls away and it is just Rohit and me and the music guiding us. I wiggle my butt into him, but when I feel a hardness pressing back, I am surprised. Is Rohit as attracted to me as I am to him?
I turn and face him again. He takes a step back, neither of us acknowledging what happened, both of us pretending nothing happened. Pretending that if our bodies are responding to each other in the same way, it isn’t real—the music causing a plethora of emotions thrumming through us and our bodies reacting as if they were real. In a blink, we go back to dancing, and when the chorus hits, we are both shouting the lyrics.
I can't feel my face when I'm with you
But I love it
But I love it, oh
I can't feel my face when I'm with you
But I love it
But I love it, oh
By the end of the song, we are sweating and laughing, our earlier awkwardness forgotten.
I turn to make sure Ruby is having a good time since we are out celebrating her. A bit of guilt weighs on me realizing all my attention has been on Rohit and my own reactions to him. But I find her and she locks eyes with me and winks. I roll my eyes. If she only knew the truth.
Rohit reaches over and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. His touch is feather light, his skin smooth and tender. I inhale sharply at the touch. He holds eye contact and doesn’t look away. He whispers, “You are achingly beautiful.”
I see he is really good at playing up the attentive boyfriend. I sigh and break away from his gaze. It’s only day one of fake dating and I’m already getting confused, blurring the lines in my own head.
When Ruby and Charlie leave to go home, I decide it’s best I do the same. Being alone with Rohit, without the safety of knowing Ruby and Charlie may be watching, sends a shiver of anticipation through me. Nope. Drawing the line. Do not go there. Rohit and I take an Uber to our side of town and he insists on walking me to my door.
I reach for my key and insert it into my lock. I turn around to look at him to say good night, when he says with a smile, “Miley, I had a great time tonight, and I enjoyed spending time with your family.”
“Thank you, I did too, but you can stop pretending. It’s just us right now. No one else is around,” I reply.
He nods once, as if disappointed. “Right.” He quickly regains his composure and then smirks. “But I did like seeing your jealous side.” His hazel eyes darken as I succumb to his gaze.
How do I tell him that some of what I felt was absolutely real? He’s a party boy that will never settle down, that was made clear tonight.
But maybe…
I put my hand on his chest and feel the defined muscles underneath. I give him a little push and press into him. His breathing quickens. I tilt my head up and part my lips. I inhale a soft breath. I give him my own knowing smirk.
I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. He licks his bottom lip and leans in.
“Maybe I am just a really good actor,” I say, as I open the door, slip inside, and close it without another word.
Even though I can lie to Rohit’s face, I can’t lie to myself. I have no choice but to admit that I’m attracted to Rohit. Obviously, who wouldn’t be? He’s textbook tall, dark, and handsome, but with those piercing, all-knowing hazel eyes and the way he wets his lip… I shake my head, stopping the vision of that tongue doing unspeakable things to me because attraction is all this can ever be.
Rohit has no desire for a relationship right now; that much has been made clear tonight. And while a playboy settling down may be everyone’s favorite romance trope, someone like me, with bedroom issues, isn’t going to be the one to do it. There’s no way to know if he’s attracted to me—I’m sure not asking him—and even if he was, physical intimacy is as far as his relationships go, and that’s where mine fail.
Even though I don’t sleep with men right now, I still know when I need a release. Like right now. There was too much sexual tension tonight. I slide into bed and turn to my bedside drawer and get my favorite toy.
When I close my eyes, all I see is Rohit. Tall, lean, built, beautiful Rohit. I feel his hard cock pressed into my ass and I am immediately wet. To be fair, I’ve been soaked since we were dancing. I slowly slide my cock-shaped vibrator into my pussy. It goes in easily as I let out a loud moan. I adjust the vibrator so the feelers are on my clit.
I let go of the vibrator as my hands move up to tease my nipples. I imagine that his hands are on me instead of my own. My nipples pebble as I roll my fingers over their nubs. I feel his arm around my waist, holding me close to him. I hear his voice in my ear as he whispers gently to me. I circle my nipples while my vibrator brings me to a toe curling orgasm. I let go as my body convulses from my release. I press the toy gently to my clit as I ride out the aftershocks.
“Shit,” I say when I wake up and see the time.
I’m supposed to be meeting Dylan for brunch and I am going to be late. I have never been late a day in my life, but I had a very restful sleep last night thanks to my late night orgasm. I didn’t even set an alarm thinking I’d be up at my usual time, but my body had other ideas.
I send her a quick text.
Sorry, gonna be a few minutes late
Meet me outside the subway station
DYLAN
What were YOU doing last night?
Will fill you in in person *facepalm emoji*
Dylan often insists on eating Asian food when we’re together because she says it’s better eating with me because I know what to order. So we find ourselves taking a number at Golden Unicorn and falling in the crowded waiting room. We stand in the corner because there aren’t even any seats left in the waiting area. There is loud conversation all around us, in many dialects of Chinese. I hear Mandarin, Cantonese, and Shanghainese. I hear numbers being called that are nowhere near our ticket, 84.
“Spill the tea,” Dylan starts, leaning against the wall.
“There’s not much to say,” I begin, looking down at my feet.
“I don’t believe that for one second,” Dylan responds.
“ Liu shi ba! Sixty-eight!” the host says in both languages.
She continues, “You can start by telling me what happened last night.”
“Last night was Ruby’s bridal party meetup, if you can even call it that. It was dinner at her place. Emily and Roger, their bridesmaid and groomsman, were there, and then Rohit and I. I still don’t understand how he got roped into all this,” I groan, slapping my hand against my forehead.
“ Qi shi er! Seventy-two!” booms the loud voice as a large family spanning three generations stand and make their way in. We quickly take the seats they just vacated, leaving room for plenty of other patrons to sit down as well.
“So this relationship is continuing?” Dylan asks, raising her eyebrow at me.
“For now, neither of us know how to get out of it. Ruby and my mom are both over the moon that I’ve found someone. I just don’t want to disappoint them.” I add ‘yet’ in my head, knowing this will all come crashing down when they find out the truth.
“What time did you get home last night to make you late this morning? It’s so unlike you!”
“I think I got home around 1 AM. After dinner, we went to a bar,” I tell her.
“ Qi shi liu! Seventy-six!”
“I told you Rohit is a party boy. You can always count on him for a good time,” Dylan says.
A few more numbers are shouted out as I rehash to Dylan the events of last night, leaving out a few parts. I tell her about the girl Rohit ran into; I tell her about the dancing. I leave out the part where I think I felt a hard-on. I tell her how he brought me home.
“Ba shi si!”
“That’s us!” I say before the guy has a chance to even say the number in English.
We follow him and meander our way through the crowded restaurant, skirting around the ladies pushing around the dim sum carts.
As we reach our table, Dylan says, “Girl, do you even hear yourself? You like him.”
I flop into my seat with an audible sigh. Dylan, as per usual, is right.