Our Way Page 8

  I close my eyes and tip my head back. My bicep begins to cramp from the vice-like grip I have on myself.

  The shower turns off.

  No.

  I need it.

  I zip my pants up. The bathroom door opens, and I brush past her before she has time to notice the tent in my trousers.

  God damn it, woman… I want to fuck your mouth.

  I lock the door, turn the water on, and tear my clothes off, desperate for Eliza.

  Desperate to ejaculate.

  I soap up my hand, get under the water, and I begin to really fuck myself. I need this. I need it hard.

  I want it to hurt.

  My legs go weak from underneath me, and I put my hand up on the tiles to hold myself steady. I close my eyes and taste Eliza’s skin in my mouth. I can almost feel her breath on my chest, and I come hard. My head tips back and I give a low, guttural moan. My heart is racing, gasping for air, and my body shudders as it comes down from the high. I keep stroking to completely empty my body.

  Thinking of her when I come is an out of this world experience. I can’t imagine what the real thing would feel like. Maybe I wouldn’t even survive it.

  I stand under the shower, the water running down over my face, and the more I come down from the high, the more guilt fills me.

  Eliza trusts me, and I’m jerking off over her like she’s a piece of meat in a porno.

  What the fuck is wrong with me?

  I stand under the water for a long time and slowly wash my hair. I’m dreading facing her.

  Eventually, when I can’t put it off any longer, I turn off the shower and dry myself. Normally, I would walk out there in a towel and dress in front of her but I can’t now. It feels weird.

  Every boundary between us has changed, and I have no sphere or reference as to what’s right and wrong anymore.

  What just happened was wrong… but fuck, it felt so right.

  I wrap the towel around my waist and inhale deeply as I stare at my reflection in the mirror.

  Cut it out, I warn myself. She’s going to leave if you keep losing your head.

  I close my eyes and shake out my arms as if I’m preparing to go into a fight, because that’s how it feels, like I’m constantly fighting myself over her—an internal battle between what I should want and what I do want.

  What I know and what I want to learn.

  Everything about this situation is screaming at me to drop it, and every day I decide to.

  Yet, every day I fail the task.

  I walk out into the darkened bedroom. Eliza is lying on her side with her back to me. I grab my boxer shorts from the drawer and slip them on, and then I get a glass of water, get into bed beside her, and I lie on my back.

  I can’t touch her because I can’t trust myself not to start it up all over again.

  We lie in silence for a long time until, eventually, she asks, “Is everything all right?”

  I close my eyes, fuck. “Yeah, baby,” I whisper.

  “Cuddle me.”

  I roll toward her and take her into my arms. I press my lips into the crook of her neck.

  “Do you love me, Nathe?” she whispers. She asks me this all the time. It’s an affectionate joke between us.

  I screw up my face and pause as my chest constricts. “You know I do.” I kiss the back of her head. “Go to sleep.”

  “Goodnight, Nathe.”

  I remember how perfect that ten minutes were when she was in my arms, and I smile sadly into the darkness. “Goodnight, Eliza.”

  * * *

  I stare at the big screen over the bar. It’s 10:00 p.m., and after the longest day in history, I just want to go home and sleep.

  But home is complicated. Actually, home isn’t even my home. It’s her home.

  I pinch the bridge of my nose and scrunch my eyes shut.

  Fucking hell, what a mess.

  I sip my scotch and stare up at the television screen.

  Here’s what I need to do. I need to go back to my house and sleep in my bed. I also need to have sex with someone before I ruin everything.

  I sip my drink and stare into space, infuriated at the situation I find myself in.

  This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. Nothing about this is fucking normal.

  Am I having a midlife crisis or something?

  I think about what the possible outcomes are if I tell Eliza what’s going on in my head… and my pants. She could be mortified if I made a move and she wasn’t into it. We would become awkward and drift apart. She might just not like me that way, it’s probable actually. I mean, in the ten years that we’ve spent every spare moment together, she has never once hinted at anything like that between us. Neither have I, but things change, apparently. She could be totally disgusted that I’ve been sleeping with her and seeing her undressed while feeling an attraction to her. What if she feels violated? Am I violating her? I don’t even know anymore.

  This really is a fucked-up situation.

  I sip my scotch as the worst-case scenario plays out. What if she does, in fact, feel the same and we sleep together and it feels wrong? What if I don’t like it but she does? I would then have to tell her that it was a mistake.

  It would hurt her.

  My heart drops, I just couldn’t hurt her like that. I can’t even contemplate that happening, it would kill me.

  This is uncharted territory. I have no idea how my body would work with hers. But then… considering the way she makes me feel, I don’t think…

  Fuck, I just don’t know.

  I’ve never been so confused in my entire life.

  I puff air into my cheeks as I stare at the screen. I’ve been here for five hours, going around and round in my head, searching for the right answer, knowing that I should go back to my place, but instead sitting in a bar waiting for Eliza to go sleep before I go home to her.

  Home.

  My chest tightens. Eliza is my home. I’m confused about everything I thought I ever wanted and if I get this wrong, I lose it all.

  I allow myself to imagine what the other side of the coin would look like if, by some miracle, it did work out. I would get to be in love with my best friend. I smile, imagining the life we could have together. We could travel the world, marriage… children.

  My own family; something I’ve never even contemplated before.

  We could literally have it all.

  I tip my head back and drain my glass.

  But this could also be a disaster waiting to happen.

  Just drop it.

  Eliza

  I lie on the couch and hold the remote up to turn off the television. I glance at my phone. It’s 11:50 p.m. I’m beat. I’ve been waiting up for Nathan.

  He said he was working late but this is really late. I hope everything’s okay. I keep going over last night and the way we were with each other—the intimacy between us.

  Brooke’s words from Saturday night keep coming back to me.

  Why do you think Nathan has a bachelor pad?

  Is he having sex with someone right now?

  Uneasiness fills me, and I frown at the notion. I climb from the couch and drag myself into the bathroom. I stare at my reflection as I clean my teeth.

  I’m rattled about what happened between us, trying to decipher if this is all in my head. I’m unusually clingy. I feel close to him, and yet, miles away. I hate that he’s not here. I can’t fall asleep without his hand on my behind.

  I shouldn’t depend on him so much… or at all actually.

  One day he’s going to meet someone and never come back and where will that leave you?

  The thought of him leaving and never coming back makes me feel sick to my stomach.

  Oh God, this situation is worse than I thought. The girls are right; I need to get over myself.

  I must be imagining this entire thing, nothing happened between us last night.

  It was a figment of my imagination, I’m horny and I’m lonely and perhaps by me making the realisati
on that I am in a rut and have given up on men, it’s making me cling onto him. Of course, that’s it. The girls are right, this is all just a mix up of feelings, nothing more and nothing less. The sooner I go on a date with someone the better. I’m way too dependent on Nathan.

  Although, I can’t even admit this to myself properly but I feel like I might have feelings for him. But that’s ridiculous.

  It’s just because I’m lonely and I want to feel loved.

  And I know that Nathan loves me even though it’s not the same kind of love.

  I’m mixing it up and getting all confused.

  It doesn’t mean anything.

  As soon as I start dating I can stop imagining all this business between him and me. It’s all in my head. He would be horrified if he knew what I was thinking.

  I turn off the light and climb into bed to lie in the darkness for a while. My mind is spinning at a million miles per hour.

  Where is he now?

  He’s never this late. Maybe he isn’t coming over tonight.

  That’s okay—he doesn’t have to—he’s not my boyfriend or anything.

  I toss and turn, and I punch my pillow, annoyed that it bothers me. Half an hour later, I hear the key turn in the door, and relief fills me.

  He’s here.

  Now, I’ll finally get some sleep.

  I hear his keys go onto the sideboard and then the shower run. A few moments later, Nathan walks into the bedroom with a white towel around his waist.

  “Hi.” I smile up at him.

  “Hi.”

  “You’re home late.”

  He sits down beside me on the edge of the bed. “Yeah.” He tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear, and we stare at each other, despite the darkness.

  The air between us feels weird again. There’s a spark… a crackle. Something’s different.

  What the fuck is it?

  His dark eyes hold mine and he rubs his thumb over my cheekbone as he studies me.

  I feel like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t.

  I put my hand over his against my cheek. “Nathan, what is it?”

  “Nothing.” He gets up in a rush and snatches his boxer shorts. Then, he storms into the bathroom to get changed.

  I lie in the darkness with questions buzzing through my brain. I can’t hold my tongue any longer. There shouldn’t be any secrets between us. We are just friends. Moments later, he comes back into the room and switches his bedside lamp on.

  “Why are you so late?” I ask.

  “I had something going on.” He gets into bed and picks up his book from the nightstand.

  “Oh.” I look over at him as he turns the page. “Like what?”

  He lies on his side toward me and flicks through the pages to get to the place where he left off.

  “What did you have going on?” I repeat when he doesn’t answer.

  “I was working.”

  “Oh.” I roll over toward him and watch him for a moment. “I thought you must have had a date.”

  His eyes lift over his book to meet mine, and then he raises his eyebrow before his attention goes back to his book.

  “Are you seeing anyone?” I ask.

  “What?” He frowns as if I’m a major inconvenience.

  “Are you seeing anyone?” I repeat. “I mean, I know you haven’t had sex for a while, but are you dating?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  I sit up. “Because you never tell me anything about your personal life.”

  He turns the page as if annoyed, his eyes don’t leave the page. “Stop being nosey.”

  “Well, are you?” He flicks the page but ignores my question. “I think we need to start being more open about our personal lives, don’t you? It’s weird that we spend all our time together and talk about everything except our relationships.”

  His eyes meet mine. “It’s almost midnight, Eliza, why are we talking about this?”

  “We aren’t talking.” I lie down in a huff. “I’m talking and you’re dodging my questions.”

  He exhales heavily and keeps reading.

  “Well, I am.” I huff.

  “You’re what?”

  “I’m beginning to date again.”

  He drops his book. “What?”

  “I’ve decided that I’m ready to date again.”

  He glares at me. “What brought this on?”

  I put my hands above my head. “I don’t know. I miss sex, I guess.”

  He turns the page angrily. “Why don’t you go on Tinder and arrange for two guys to double bang you?” he says sarcastically. “Better yet, get one of them to film it and upload it to YouPorn.”

  “Yeah, I might.” I roll my eyes. It’s a typical Nathan answer. Smartass. “A threesome has always been on my bucket list, actually. I may as well start ticking things off now that I’m thirty.”

  “You’re thirty-one. And your bucket list must be riveting.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I frown. “Sex isn’t on your bucket list?”

  “No. If I want sex, I have sex. I most definitely don’t have bucket list sex. Jesus.”

  Fuck he’s annoying, I roll over so that my back is to him. “Sorry, I’m not as cool as you and all your groupies, Dr. Mercer.”

  “You want a date, I’ll get you a fucking date.” He gets up in a rush and storms over to my underwear drawer. He ruffles through it and digs out my vibrator. “Here he is.” He eyes it suspiciously as he holds it up. “Although I’m not quite sure what this pissant thing would do.”

  “Size doesn’t count, Nathan.” I snap. “Not everyone wants a donkey dick, you know?”

  “Does it even touch the sides?”

  My mouth falls open in horror and I get up and snatch it from him, throw it back in my drawer, and slam it shut. “I’ll have you know, BOB touches all my sides because I happen to have a very tiny vagina.” I get into bed in a huff. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

  He gets into bed beside me. I turn my back to him and he picks up his book.

  “You’re annoying me,” I say.

  “Well, you’re annoying me,” he snaps.

  I roll my eyes, and after a while, he puts his hand on my hip, our sleeping position. Relaxation instantly begins to roll through me.

  “Goodnight, Eliza.”

  “Goodnight, Nathan.”

  “Goodnight, Tiny,” he says.

  I smile against my pillow. He has a name for my vagina now?

  “Goodnight,” I squeak in a mouse voice.

  He chuckles and pats my hip. “Go to sleep.”

  * * *

  I’m walking down the corridor toward the elevator when I hear someone call from behind me, “Eliza!”

  I turn and see the guy from Saturday night. I’m taken aback. Shit, what was his name?

  “Hi.”

  “Samuel,” he prompts as he falls into step beside me. “Samuel Phillips. We met on Saturday night.”

  “Yes, I remember.” I smile. Oh, he’s cute… I don’t remember him being this good-looking. “You work here?” I ask.

  “Yes, I’m an anaesthetist.”

  “Oh.” I only vaguely remember our conversation from the other night. “Did you tell me that already?” I frown.

  “Yes.” He gives me a sexy smile. “In great length, actually.”

  I wince. “Gosh, my apologies. Those cocktails went straight to my head. I’m so embarrassed.”

  He chuckles. “That’s okay.”

  We arrive at the elevator and I have to get in to go up to level three. “This is me.”

  He lingers and then bites his bottom lip as if contemplating saying something. “Would you like to go out some time?”

  I shrug casually as if super-hot anaesthetists ask me out every day. “Umm sure, why not?”

  He smiles and I feel my stomach flutter. “Great.”

  I hunch my shoulders, I’m being so weird right now but I have no control over myself. “Great.” I turn to get into the eleva
tor.

  “I need to give you my number.”

  I give a nervous giggle. “Oh right.”

  He digs in his pocket and pulls out a little brass case. He takes out a business card and passes it over. “Call me tonight.”

  I stare at the card in my hand. “Okay.” I smile and then turn toward the elevator.

  “Don’t forget.”

  “I won’t.” Oh, he’s really cute.

  He points at me as he walks backward. “Because I’ll come looking for you if you don’t call me. I mean it. I’m into you, Eliza. You better call me.”

  I laugh at his over the top flirtyness. “Yes, okay, I promise.” I turn and get into the elevator and he puts his hands into his suit pockets as he watches me.

  “Goodbye, Eliza.”

  “Bye.” The doors shut, and I scrunch up my face in excitement.

  Oh my God. Eek! This is getting me back into the dating game with a bang.

  He is gorgeous.

  * * *

  I sip my red wine as I stir the beef Bourguignon I’m making. The potatoes are mashed, and the carrots and string green beans are in the steamer. I rushed home from work because I wanted to get dinner cooked early so that I can call Samuel before Nathan gets home. It would be weird having him listen to the conversation.

  I glance at the clock. It’s 6:25 p.m. Nathe will be home in about twenty minutes.

  Shit, I have to call now or not at all.

  I look desperate ringing this early, I hold his card out and stare at it in my hand.

  Samuel Phillips

  Oh, well, here goes nothing. I drain my glass of red wine and refill it.

  What do I say? Nothing…just let him do the talking. Don’t appear too eager, I remind myself.

  With shaky fingers, I dial his number.

  It goes straight to voicemail.

  Shit.

  “Hi, you’ve reached Samuel Phillips. I’m either on the phone or unavailable. Please leave a message after the tone, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Have a nice day.”

  “Hi, Samuel… it’s Eliza.” I begin to pace. “I’ll… I’ll try again tomorrow.” I hang up in a rush before I can make a fool of myself.