Chapter 28
“I can’t today,” Lily says, focusing on her hands, molding clay into a ball. “I’ve got an order I need to finish.”
“What kind of order?” I ask, before I have to go find something else to do with my time. I was hoping Lily would want to have lunch.
“A couple of plates. Nothing special.”
She says it like it isn’t impressive. I wish I could tell her that everything she does is special, but that might be too much. I never know where the line is.
My natural reaction is always too much.
“Are they paying you?”
She shrugs, pressing her foot to the pedal and making the plate spin. “A little. People ask for matching sets from time to time. I don’t charge ‘em an arm and a leg for it, but it does take me a while, so.”
I watch her, transfixed as she molds the clay, relaxed in a way I can’t imagine ever being, trying to do something like that. “Have you ever thought about opening a store?”
“Iris and I talk about it, but we don’t know anything about doing that.” The clay rises under her hands. Her fingers glide, wet and precise, shaping something from nothing.
“Okay,” she says after I don’t even know how long. I’ve completely lost track of time. “You’re distracting me.”
“I’m standing still.”
She glares at me, annoyance written all over her face, but I really don’t want to leave.
“I’ll just sit over here.” I move to the back, finding a stool in the rubble and taking a seat on it. “You won’t even know I’m here, I promise.”
She exhales loudly, turning back to the wheel. “Fine. But if I mess this up, you’re buying it.”
I sit, hands folded in my lap like a child trying not to get in trouble. I watch the muscles in her forearms flex as she works, clay slicking her skin, her focus narrowed in on her task.
She’s always been beautiful, but like this…
She’s something else entirely.
I shift on the stool, my heart starting to race, averting my eyes to her face, but I can’t stop watching her hands. The way they knead and smooth the clay, the way her wet fingers go in and out of the hole she’s making from the top, it’s so…
I remember that summer like it was yesterday. How those same fingers felt inside of me. And forty years of pent-up desire threatens to spill out at once.
What would it be like if she touched me now? The thought makes my thighs clench together, heat building in my lower belly. She’s gained experience now, she said it herself, she’s been with other women. I was her first, clumsy experimentation, but now…
I dig my fingers into my knees, trying to will it down, trying not to think of my best friend this way. But the memories, the sight, it’s all too much.
Every muscle she moves, every flick of her fingers into the clay as it spins…
It’s too hot in here.
“I—I have to go,” I blurt, voice shaking. I don’t wait for her to acknowledge me. I bolt out of the shed, my body alive in a way it hasn’t been in so long.
I slam my bedroom door behind me, out of breath, my stomach twisting in a way I can’t control. My hands are shaking as I lean my head back against the cool wood. I shouldn’t have gone today. I should have left when she asked. I shouldn’t have watched her.
I definitely shouldn’t have remembered her hands.
My brain is playing it all on repeat. Every time she touched me, every curve, every gasp, every sound she made, flashes in my mind, a cruel slideshow meant to break my self-control.
I move over to the bed, sinking down onto it, putting my head in my hands. It’s overwhelming.
I can’t think about anything else.
My hands wander without me even deciding to, trying to ease the fire that’s blazing through me. I want her. I want everything about her.
I know she doesn’t want me that way anymore, and I hate myself for it. For wanting her this badly, for letting my fantasies run wild, for shoving my hand into my jeans.
The relief when my fingers find my clit, wet and swollen in desperate need, begging for Lily’s touch, is almost worth it.
I close my eyes and picture her, the way her fingers move, the way her hands used to feel, the way her voice trembled when she begged me for more.
I rub harder, lying back, my hips bucking up into my hand as I let myself fall into the memory this time instead of pushing it away.
It’s frantic and dirty, I don’t even take off my clothes, all I know is I need her, and I need to come now. I bite my lip hard to keep the sounds in, my mind nothing but Lily, Lily, Lily.
The pressure builds, more and more, her name slipping out as my body locks up, and the hand inside of my underwear is flooded with a gush of warmth.
For a moment, there’s nothing but overwhelming pleasure.
And then it’s over.
I lie there, staring at the ceiling, my breath slowing as the guilt seeps in where the desire used to live.
All I want, the only thing I’ve wanted for my entire life, is for her to be here. Not the memory. Not the fantasy. The real Lily, holding me the way she used to.
Loving me.
But she isn’t here.
I turn onto my side, curling in on myself, shame settling over me like a weighted blanket. She finally let me back into her life. She trusts me. And this is what I go and do. I betray that trust for my own selfish desires.
I press my hand over my mouth to muffle the sobs.
I’m a bad person, I think.
Good people don’t use their best friend’s image for their own sick perversions.
I didn’t want to come here today.
Lily’s in the garden, watering the flowers, completely unaware of what I did. She would hate me if she knew.
“Di,” Lily says with that look that means she knows something is up.
Please god don’t let her figure it out.
“Oh… um, sorry. I was thinking.”
“Alright,” she says with a shrug, going back to the weeds she’s tending.
I shift from foot to foot, my stomach tightening as the guilt threatens to eat me alive. I shouldn’t be standing here like this, spending time with her. Not after everything. Not after what I thought about.
What I’m still thinking about.
It won’t go away now that it’s been set free.
“The garden looks pretty,” I say, forcing my eyes to focus on the flowers instead of at her.
“It does,” she agrees, tugging hard on a stubborn weed. I don’t look at the way her biceps flex. “Now if only there weren’t these fuckin’ weeds, ugh!” She groans, finally tugging it free, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to survive this.
For the first time since we reconnected, I can’t help but wonder if it was such a good idea.
I drift toward the far corner of the yard, mostly to get away from Lily, but also because my eyes have been catching on the two rusty metal chairs with the little table between them since we started working out here.
They’re out of place in the otherwise perfect yard. Tommy’s been stopping by to mow regularly, and we’ve got a beautiful flower arrangement. It doesn’t even look like the same yard.
Except for these chairs.
“Lily… what’s up with these?” I call out, gesturing toward them, my crisis momentarily forgotten. “They’re kind of gross. Should we toss them? Get some new ones?”
She stands fast, knocking over the full watering can beside her. “They’re fine,” she says, her voice clipped, but I step closer to get a better look.
“They’re really rusty. And the paint is peeling off. I’m not sure they’d even be safe to sit on. How long have they been out here?”
Her hands curl into fists at her sides. “I said they’re fine.”
“They’re chairs, Lily, we can get more today if you want.”
“They’re not just chairs, Diana!” Lily shouts. The sudden anger would have been a bit frightening if it were anyone else, but I’m very familiar with her temper and how she feels about my judgment.
I can’t let it go this time, though. They’re not safe.
“I don’t get why you’re keeping them. They’re old and—”
“Why does everything have to be fixed?” She snaps, cutting me off. “Why does everything I do have to be perfect, according to Diana? Maybe I don’t care what you think!”
I step back, my hands raised, startled by how intense she’s being. “Lily… I’m not criticizing you. These chairs are clearly falling apart.”
She exhales sharply, hands dropping to her sides. Her shoulders slump, but her eyes stay hard. “We’re done for the day.”
“Done?”
She doesn’t waver. “I need some space.” My stomach drops. This can’t be happening. Not now. “Go. Please.”
My knees turn to jelly beneath me. I’m already fragile from the other day, and now she’s sending me away. She’s never asked me to leave before. Not even back then, when she was rightfully angry, I could tell she wanted me around.
I don’t feel that right now.
I open my mouth to try to explain that I didn’t mean to upset her, but the words die in my throat.
I just can’t right now.
So I nod, forcing my feet to move toward the gate.
I feel unsteady. Exposed. Unwanted. I want to run back to her and demand an explanation, or beg for her forgiveness. But all I can do is walk to my car, leaving Lily and her rusty chairs behind.