Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Dean
W ell, that was awkward as shit.
I’m pretty sure they didn’t see me, though, thank god; I could never have looked either of them in the eye again if they had. Another reason to feel grateful to Leo for installing soft close mechanisms on all the doors for my comfort, because slamming doors sometimes trigger an episode.
All I’d wanted to do was stop by the parlor to pick up a fresh sketch pad for the inevitable insomnia-fest after Eli’s bachelor party tonight. It’s Sunday, and I knew Eli had an appointment earlier this afternoon, but it’s six p.m. He and Em should have both been long gone by now.
So when I heard an odd noise coming from his studio, it didn’t occur to me that I might not want to investigate that.
I swear I thought maybe some punk had broken in. I was all set to haul ass and text Leo to call the cops.
Instead…
Instead I’m speed walking back to my apartment, without a sketch pad, torn between going bright red in the face and laughing my ass off, and trying hard not to think about what I saw in the moments before it hit me what was happening and I got the hell out of Dodge.
It’s gnawing at me, though, however much I try to resist.
Em, perched on Eli’s sketch table. Her dress pulled up around her waist. Black stockings with lacy tops.
My cousin’s head full-on buried in her pussy, thankfully hiding it from my line of sight.
Still, it was obvious what he was doing to her from the gentle, repetitive motion of his head, and the way she gasped and whimpered and clutched at his hair.
A tiny shiver runs through me as I recall the fierce concentration on Em’s face, the desperation in the way her eyes screwed up. But the thing that struck me the most was the way Eli ran his hands up her thighs, mingling his own quiet groans with her sighs and soft cries…
He was enjoying it.
It was as though going down on his fiancee was the best place in the world to be. Like it was getting him off to do this for her.
And god help me, I envied him.
Not for Emily, god no. She’s like a sister to me. I envied him the experience, because…
Because I want to do that to Liaden.
I want to taste her, that unimaginable flavor, and feel her delicate wet flesh on my tongue. I want to feel her hands raking and clutching at my hair, holding me into place. I want to hear her moans of pleasure, see her face tighten in ecstasy, and know that I’m responsible.
I’ve never done that before, even with Callie.
We only went so far, hands only. And I’ve not really allowed myself a lot of time to think about it one way or the other, but now the idea is taking hold, making me feverish.
I can’t stop imagining being on me knees before her, all that pink, lewd perfection of her pussy before my eyes, waiting for me to…
Fucking hell .
My dick twitches and my pants get a lot tighter. And then I start to pull at the collar of my shirt, feeling hot all over .
Because given the karaoke night, that moment when we said goodbye…and the way she squeezed my hand earlier in the evening…and the way we’ve texted each other every day since, with me saying things I haven’t said and taking a tone I haven’t used with anyone since Callie…
Me and Liaden, we’re more than friends. And this thing I want to do to her…might happen.
Just might .
But that might is more than I’ve had for my entire adult life so far.
I unlock my front door and head inside. The person greeting me in the mirror by the door isn’t the usual gray faced wretch I loathe, the one I’m used to seeing. This guy has some color in his face, glittering eyes full of need, the beginnings of a grin. Like a guy who knows more than I do.
Who am I now ?
I’m a man with a hard-on, that’s for damn sure. It’s pounding away in my boxers, demanding my attention, begging for relief. It’s happening more and more since Liaden arrived in my life, and I haven’t jacked off so much since I was a teenager. Particularly this week.
I put my hand down my pants and give it a squeeze, both to get it to calm down and to gauge how good this one’s gonna be. Answer: seriously good.
I give in.
Heading to my shower for some Me Time, I reach in my pocket for my cell phone, feeling an irresistible urge to text her before I defile her in my head over and over. Just to see how her day’s going. But she’s beaten me to it.
It’s a picture message, and my heart skips a beat before I open it, wildly unlikely possibilities racing through my mind.
And then there she is. I’m once again a little stunned by just how beautiful her face is, with such delicate, flawless features.
An artist’s dream. It’s a selfie of her with her hair in two long, thick fishtail braids, dressed in a pale yellow vest and Lisa Simpson pajama pants.
Liaden: My very first sleepover! How do I look? [wink emoji] x
Sadie and Em are going to her place tonight for a girl’s night in, and I know from our most recent messages that she’s been endearingly excited about it.
I remember the eleven year old version of her from that documentary about child geniuses, and how much she wanted friends to spend time with.
My heart melts in my chest. You got there in the end, kid.
I run my thumb slowly over the image of her smiling face, filled with affection, before saving the photo.
Dean: You look
…I pause. Stunning? Gorgeous? Like my wildest dreams brought to life?
Dean: You look awesome. Lisa Simpson for President.
Liaden: Damn straight. Lisa rocks. And she did take over from President Trump that one time…if only, hey! You all set for the stag night?
Mentally translating ‘stag night’ to ‘bachelor party’, I start typing again, feeling a little reckless.
Dean: Almost. Just about to head into the shower.
Crap, I think, mere seconds after pressing send. Was that too suggestive? Or not suggestive enough? Why is this such a fucking minefield?!
Liaden: Ooh, I’ll enjoy those mental images [wink emoji x3] x
I let out a sigh of relief, tinged with nerves. This thing between us is snowballing, at least by my standards, and I’ve almost decided to just let it. To let things happen as they will, to take what she offers however it comes, however she wants things to be.
Even if I don’t deserve it.
My phone pings again, snapping me out of a trance I didn’t realize I was in.
Liaden: PS Daria Morgendorffer for VP, Jane Lane for Chief of Staff.
I think I’ve smiled more because of her in the last few weeks than I ever have in the whole of my life so far.
And I’m starting to enjoy it.
Leo’s completely outdone himself for Eli’s bachelor night.
His townhouse on the outskirts of Foxton is decked out with a variety of L plates, streamers, and blown up condoms, most of them ribbed or bobbled.
It’s enjoyably trashy. The island in his kitchen is groaning with beer and liquor, and the barbecue in his backyard is making enough food to feed a small country, let alone the selection of guests.
His ‘Dean Friendly’ playlist on Spotify, discreetly named ‘DF tuneage 1’, is pumping through his brand new speakers, bought specially for the occasion.
Ain’t Comin’ Home by The Lucky Strikes is adding a bluesy feel that reminds me of home, and I mouth along to the lyrics.
None of the neighbors will call the cops due to the noise, because the majority are here with us, drinking and laughing loudly with some of Eli’s favorite clients, Sadie’s brother, and Chris Richards from the band Turn it Up, who’s concentrating hard on making a balloon hat out of condoms. Leo is a smart host, if a little over the top in his decor and provisions.
I know most of the guests here today, and I’ve found myself relaxing and enjoying myself more than I expected to.
It’s hard to talk to some people, but the guests I don’t know that well are being very understanding.
Somehow, I won Leo’s game of ‘is she screaming with rage or ecstasy’; he printed out a bunch of photos of women either yelling or coming, and we had to guess which was which, and somehow the virgin man was the only one who got a hundred percent. Go figure.
Maybe the tequila helped.
I’ve been drinking quite a lot of it, first to help me cope when I first got there and the anxiety was threatening, and then because I just enjoyed the buzz.
I liked being one of the boys , playing Never Have I Ever and cracking up at some of the revelations.
Chris is so wasted because of it. He’s always a riot, kind of exhausting, and definitely Leo’s problem when the party’s over.
It’s all starting to catch up with me, though, and I’m grateful that Leo had the foresight to prep a breakout room for any guests - i.e. me - who need to take time out to chill in peace and quiet.
I close the door and sink into one of the overstuffed padded chairs, swimmy-headed and wishing I’d been smart enough to grab a burger or something to soak up the alcohol before I started drinking.
But not only is the liquor keeping me calm and letting me cut loose, it’s keeping me honest. Even with myself.
It’s Eli’s bachelor night, and I still haven’t told him I can’t stand as his best man.
And six or seven tequilas have blasted through the cobwebs so I can admit to myself why I haven’t yet.
I want to do this for him.
I want to be the one standing next to him at the altar, keeping him calm. I haven’t told him I can’t do that for the simple reason that I don’t want to.
In vino veritas . Well, in tequila veritas, anyway.
His first wedding to Charmaine was a quick ‘I do’ at a registry office without any best man or bridesmaids.
Blink and it was done. This wedding, though…
it represents the right choice for him. This is Eli living his best case scenario, and I want to be a part of it.
It might be selfish of me - I probably won’t make it through the day, maybe even the ceremony, without some kind of problem - but I can’t help it.
I’m getting annoyed with myself, so I fumble for my phone in case Liaden has messaged me. I wonder if she’s enjoying herself. I know Em and Sades were planning on pulling out all the stops for her first sleepover, but I wonder what she thinks of it all.
Almost by muscle memory, without making the conscious decision to do so, I flick to her Facebook profile photo.
I’ve looked at this pic of her delivering a speech on a podium so many times I could probably sketch an exact copy from memory.
I just love the expression in her eyes, her obvious enjoyment of whatever subject she was speaking about.
I sigh and put my phone away. I need to stop being such a creeper.
The door opens, and Eli walks in. I knew he’d check on me at some point.
“Where y’at?” He’s not loaded, but, judging by his bright eyes and resting grin face, he’s not a hundred percent sober, either. Still in better shape than me.
Yeah, good, thanks. Happy for you. Happy for me. I chuckle to myself. I can’t slur my words, but I think I would if I could still talk. Maybe if my hand movements become chaotic, that’d be the equivalent?
“Happy for yourself, too, huh? Tell me everything.” He sits opposite me.
I’m dizzy, but it’s making me laugh. I’m happy because… I think for a moment. Because she’s beautiful. Inside and out. And everything is just a brighter color since she showed up.
His smile broadens still further. “Yeah, Liaden’s really something.”
Frere, you have no idea. I sit up and sigh.
I’ve found my Emily . I just blurt that out, but the truth of it settles into my bones.
The least likely person ever to find his ‘one’ has actually found her.
No idea how, but she’s here, and it’s a precious gift just for me, and I need to decide what I’m going to do about it, instead of just moping and clinging to my PTSD as an excuse not to live my life.
Eli blinks. “Wow, man, that’s… awesome .
” He looks as stunned as I’ve been feeling since she walked into my studio, and I’m hardly surprised.
He looks foggily thoughtful for a few seconds.
“You need to tell her. I mean,” he says, leaning forward so whatever he says is for my ears only, “don’t be all Leo about this, OK?
One day at a time, like I said, but don’t let this slip through your fingers.
I need - ” He sighs. “I need to see you happy.” His lips twitch.
“Make that my wedding present. I don’t need another blender. ”
Well, hey, that solves the problem of what to get him, I guess.
‘I need to see you happy’, he said. Need , not want. Eli has always walked next to me as I went through hell. If he needs something, and I can give it to him…
“Eli,” Leo booms, his footsteps coming closer, “you and Em haven’t booked any time off for your honeymoon.
What gives?” He pokes his head around the door, greeting me, and then giving Eli a pointed look.
“You know you’re taking her to NOLA. Show her Bourbon Street.
Show her Esplanade. Show her the French Market, she’ll love that. ”
“That’s the plan,” Eli agrees, heading to the door. He turns to me to make sure I’m all good, and then goes back outside to raucous cheers.
I recognize the track that starts playing in the garden. It’s Bon Jovi, definitely. But which one…
Got it. It’s In These Arms . Man, I haven’t heard this song for years .
I listen to the lyrics, and they grab hold of my mind and shake it awake.
YES, Jon! That’s exactly right! Jon Bon Jovi clearly knows how it feels to be crazy about a woman, to want her more than you want to breathe.
He gets me. He gets it all . This song…
these lyrics…they’re for Liaden O’Brien.
They’re everything I have to say to her.
I want to write to Jon and thank him for saying everything that’s in my heart. Am I drunk? Huh. And I should…
You know what? I definitely should tell Liaden about this. I mean, fuck: these are the words I can’t say, but put to music. I don’t need to reinvent the wheel here.
I head to the YouTube app on my phone and find the official video for In These Arms . This is the cool guy thing to do, the thing a suave, experienced man of the world would do for his woman. The Leo-style romantic grand gesture she’s gonna remember, the attention grabber I need.
Heart pounding, unable to stop smiling at what a fantastic idea just landed in my lap, I copy the link and head to Facebook.