Page 58 of Be Your Anything
I take another sip of my drink, trying to push down a sudden irritation that seems to have clawed its way up out of nowhere—irritation that she plays these games, gives when she wants and pulls away when she doesn’t, seems to jerk me around and expect me to follow without question.
At the same time, these feelings feel unfair and irrational. She’s my girlfriend. I’m excited she’s back. Surprises are good things. I know she’s been really busy trying to get a job and sort out her future.
I don’t know what has crawled up my ass tonight.
Her hands slip under my shirt, cool fingers against the warm skin bellow my belly button, and I startle slightly, spinning in her hold so we’re face to face.
“I wish I’d known you were planning to come to town,” I say, placing my hands on her shoulders, my thumbs tracing the bare skin. “I would have cleared my schedule or made different plans.”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” she says, lifting up on tiptoe so we’re eye to eye. “I’m happy to fit in wherever you have room for me.”
She kisses me, a small, sweet thing before she drops back to her heels. Then she links her hand in mine and tugs me out of the kitchen, over to the living room and to the floor-to-ceiling windows that face The Strand and the ocean.
It’s dark now, being so late in the evening, so the only thing I can see when I look outside is our own reflection looking back at us. Remmy isn’t looking at us in the window, distracted by the remote she’s picked up off the coffee table. She fiddles with it, trying to get the stereo going, probably, but I continue watching our reflected forms.
I’ve always loved Remmy’s length, her height having been one of the first things that attracted me to her. I’m not usually a leg man, but damn if her stems weren’t the only thing I could focus on after that summer when she grew a few inches.
Remmy is thatitgirl. Voted most likely to become famous, cheer captain, prom queen.
And I was her king.
I don’t even remember how we got together. It was all such a blur. I just know one week we were flirting in that somewhat innocent way teenagers do, and the next week, we were making out in the alcove between our homeroom and the janitor’s closet.
Side by side at every school event, town function, and social opportunity, there were dozens and dozens of nights just like tonight when we’d be out with friends or family, and at some point, I’d catch our reflection in a mirror or a window. I always liked how we paired together. We looked like we fit.
Tonight, though…it feels like we’re a puzzle with a missing piece. Something looks different when I stare at our reflection. And I don’t know what it is.
“Perfect,” she says, and I see her set the remote back down as John Legend’s voice, rich, warm, and soulful, fills the room. “Now, where were we?” she asks, stepping close, a single finger trailing down the buttons of my collared shirt then hooking into the waistband of my pants.
I can’t shake the weird feeling in my chest, the thing inside of me that’s saying this is wrong.
Maybe it’s just been a long time. Maybe if I can connect with her physically, it will help to remind me of how we fit together. Maybe that’s the missing piece.
I kiss her, keeping our lips together for longer than the chaste thing she gave me a minute ago. Her mouth opens slightly and I take it as the invitation it’s meant to be, allowing my tongue to dip in and connect with hers.
She tastes exactly like she always has, like that peach gum she chews obsessively, and the familiarity eases my discomfort.
Then her hand drops between us, pressing between my legs, stroking up and down. I let out a panting breath, something between arousal and surprise, my dick hardening quickly at her touch.
She continues to rub me, up and down, her mouth pulling away and dipping to my neck, licking and sucking at the skin. I know I should be enjoying this, and part of meis. Clearly.
But something feels wrong. Something feels… I don’t know.
My dick is hard and my mind is a mess, and it feels good but I can’t help it when the picture in my mind changes. It wanders away from this moment, right here, with my girlfriend, and begins to stray back to Harbor’s, to what might have happened between me and Lennon if Remmy hadn’t shown up.
My eyes are closed but I can see myself in that window reflection again, only this time, it’s Lennon at my side, her arm around me, her tiny frame tucked in against me.
I hear a zipper and my eyes fly open, connecting with Remmy’s where she now kneels in front of me, pulling the flaps of my pants to the sides and beginning to tug down on my boxer briefs.
“Woah!”
A shout from across the room draws my attention away from Remmy and over to the entry, where Hannah and Wyatt stand, mouths open. Hannah’s eyes slam closed and Wyatt spins around quickly to face the other direction.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Hannah says, slapping her hand over her eyes, as if simply closing them isn’t enough of a barrier between herself and what she nearly walked in on.
I make quick work of tugging Remmy to her feet and adjusting my pants so they’ve been zipped back up.
“No, it’s okay, it’s okay.” My response is rushed, awkward. I mean, my sister almost walked in on my girlfriend going down on me. This is a million degrees of awkward, obviously.
