Stephenie Myers owns all things Twilight. I did run in a Triathlon yesterday.
The song for this Chapter is by Christine Perri -Distance
Remember all may not be as it seems
My car is cold from being in the garage so I crank up the heat. Am I shivering from the cold or because of what I have just done?
The sun begins to rise from the curtain of darkness and given the humidity already, I can tell it's going to be a hot day.
I scan my GPS for a Starbucks, and then drive straight to it. After I burn my tongue trying to suck down the coffee while pulling out of the parking lot, I hit the highway. Of course, I have a long way to drive because the hotel had to be close to your work. Your work.
I glance in my rear view mirror, and groan at my face and hair. I'll have a few minutes to shower and change before heading into work at Newton's Garden in a Flowerpot. The owner and I were high school buddies, so when I wanted to earn some money of my own, he had offered me a job. On some days, the teenagers working there make me feel older. That's when the regret of lost youth washes over me. Most days, though, I'm glad I am done with that stage of my life. I'd fallen victim to the mean girls and the awkwardness of not knowing who I was. Now, I am self-assured and they are probably bullies on twitter.
This is where the problem begins. My self-confidence and willingness to do things on my own has been the instigation of why I'm sneaking into a hotel hoping to find a spark with someone… a connection.
My phone is silent beside me. I keep telling myself that I'm not going to look at it to see if you have texted me, but it's like a train wreck; I don't want to look, but once I do, I can't look away.
I pull into the driveway and notice he's left the porch light on. This tells me no one is home, and I'm grateful for the time alone. I need time to just let my thoughts have space to wander and not have to concentrate on conversation.
After a fast, but very hot shower, I dress quickly and throw my hair into a ponytail. I like to keep it simple so all I wear to work is some sunscreen, facial powder, mascara and lip-gloss. My look is different than last night, less dramatic and not as sexy. But it's probably a good thing since I'll be hauling dirt and manure around.
Pouring myself a cup of coffee, I stand in front of the window overlooking the deck. Where were we? What's happened? How did I get here?
I remember the first time I was with him. He was thin, wearing a plaid shirt, and playing the piano.
Every time he would touch me I'd feel the waves of muscles contracting, rolling down my body like waves on a beach. I couldn't get enough of him; sneaking away for heavy make-out sessions that always ended up with one or both of us climaxing. The long kissing sessions that felt like my soul, as well as my mouth, were being invaded and conquered.
I rinse my cup and place it in the dishwasher. I'm going to be late if I don't get a move on, but I can't find my keys. He always knows where my keys are. After hunting for a long time, I find them lying on the front seat of my car.
My time at the Nursery is physical work that leaves me plenty of time to think. Of course, we have the rush of rich women coming in to buy plants for their gardeners to plant for them. Their heels sink in the soft soil and they try to act nonchalant as I lead them the wettest way to the plants. Their blue white hair is teased, and their faux blush is just a bit too bright as it sinks into the wrinkles formed from years of sailing or hanging out at the yacht club. Nevertheless, I prefer the wrinkles to the fake plastic smiles and unmoving skin with eyes permanently wide in surprise. I know money doesn't buy happiness, but it sure allows one to numb the pain in style.
A delivery of the summer annuals takes up most of the afternoon. The work is light and the customers who do come in today are some of my favorites. Mike buys us a late lunch and we sit in the cramped office with the rotary fan giving us moments of coolness.
After pulling in the carts and cashing out the register, it's time for the drive home. Unlike last night when I drove quickly while my mind filled with anticipation and thoughts of sex with you- I find myself taking the long way home, not yet ready to greet him. As I pull in the driveway and the garage door opens, my shoulders sag at the sight of his car. Before I even take the keys away from the ignition, he is waiting for me at the door, not realizing I just want to be alone.
I had to be nice to people all day, always upbeat, and now I just want to walk inside, play on my computer for a bit, watch TV, and not really have to think or have to respond.
He pulls me into a hug and says how much he missed me today. I hug him back and murmur, "I love you too." I feel safe and loved in his arms in that moment. Then, images from last night flash: handcuffs… lips…breasts…a firestorm of touches on my body. I wonder if safe is enough.
"What do you want to do tonight?" he asks as we start fixing dinner together. I mention that I wanted to meet a friend at the gym. His face falls and he starts again about spending time together. I invite him to join my friend and me to work out, but he reminds me he would rather play basketball than run in place. "If I can't see a progress in the form of points, what's the use of exercise?" I've heard this from him many times.
The silence is awkward and the conversation seems to be forced.
"How was your day?" I ask hoping that he'll begin his long description, and it will free me up from having to be an active participant in this conversation. I've learned to listen while letting my mind wander.
I love that he was a hard worker and didn't depend on his family's wealth. He worked hard in medical school and even managed a few mission trips to Mali and Sudan. I love watching him interact with his friends – loving the quick wit and deep laugh. He can sit down and play a piano anywhere - always the life of a party and the center of attention.
I use to love hearing about his days at the hospital. The interactions of the staff, the politics of management, and patients he either struggled with, or ones that delighted him. I would soak it up like a sponge, but that was when my life was only about him. I have my own dreams and desires now along with regrets about what I haven't done.
It was my loneliness that propelled me into my new found freedom and happiness, as well as new friends to chat with. He is busy with work even when he's home: the calls and the computer time. Out of boredom, I found new friends through new hobbies and gym classes. They encourage me, call me, and value me. When I started moving forward- venturing out to new places, his neediness began. That's when he wanted to do things with me; that's when my companionship became so valuable. What use to be suddenly wasn't enough…he wanted more.
I am drowning under this weight.
We sit down to eat and I can tell something is bothering him. I have a feeling I know what is. I keep saying to myself that I'm not going to ask him because I don't want to have this same discussion again. But I've never been one to avoid the truth so I ask him, and I'm right. It's the same old song and dance.
I've decide that to respond to him only invites more discussion, so I listen. He goes on about his love for me and how I've changed. He wouldn't change that I've changed but he is comfortable with the change. The thing is I think to myself love lets go and you are pulling tighter.
Just as I'm ready to cave into myself, my friend calls. I'm so thankful because it's refreshing to talk to her, all sunlight and fizz ; like the first penetration of champagne in your mouth. She wants to meet up for a beer sometime this week and I readily accept. I make sure I don't look at his face while I'm talking with her. I don't want to see his disappointment, his sadness. She animates me, and I can sense his pain of knowing she makes me smile while he can't.
I leave for the gym telling him I'll try to hurry, but even saying that fills me with resentment.
The sweat that pours off me is like a balm and I relish this time; the easy banter with my friend, and my slight flirtation with the trainers.
As I push my muscles and my heart, I think back to the sex from last night. It makes me want to work harder. I want to look sexy and hot for you. I think about you the whole time I'm at the gym- totally getting turned on.
On the way home, I get a text from you:
Next Wed. night Hilton rm 203. Wear the nipple clamps.
I'm shaking as I reply and realize I'm turned on more- with that one text -than any interaction I have had with him today. I walk into the house and he is gone, and a note lets me know that he has been summoned back to the hospital.
I quickly walk upstairs and put the shower on. I need a release so I take my vibrator in with me.
As I pump the thick, hard rubber in and out of me, I think of what you did to me and how you made me feel… I come hard and fast with my legs shaking.
I'm in that in-between state of sleep when I hear him come in and slide beneath the covers. I'm glad he is here and I turn on my side so he can scoot in behind me; we fit together perfectly. He kisses my neck softly telling me he loves me. Right before I drift off to sleep, I wonder why he isn't enough for me and why I need Wednesday nights.
A/N I have 3 sexy ladies who make me so much better. I hope this time I spell their twitter names right :)
Suzie55 Thanks for my kick ass banner and for holding my hand through this. I love you!
Stephk0525 Thank you my friend for making me a better pre reader by how you pre read for me. Love you tons.
Robin my beta – when you said yes you didn't think it would be this much work. Thank you darling.
I'm on twitter Lemonmartinis
Thanks for reading and it makes me all sparkly when you leave a review.