Page 13 of Feel It All

Graham

Winryliesnexttome in my bed, her dark hair cascades down the pillow. She looks so peaceful and sexy in just one of my t-shirts. I can’t hold back anymore, so I pull her into me; her round ass snuggles up against my already hard dick. Why is she so sexy; I just want to hold her here and never let go. Suddenly I am flipped over, and Winry climbs on top, straddling me. She has got a smile on her face, and her lips are demanding to be kissed. I try to pull her down to me, but she places her hand on my chest, pausing me. She grabs the hem of her shirt and begins to lift it over her head and…

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

I am pulled from my deep sleep, cursing whoever is calling me right now and interrupting one of my now recurring dreams involving Winry.

Buzz. Buzz.

I begrudgingly reach for my phone and immediately regret it.

“Hi, Mom.” I don’t even try to hide the fact that I just woke up.

“Oh, am I waking you up? I figured you would be up; it is two in the afternoon Graham.” I can hear the judgment in her tone.

“Well, in case you forgot, Mom, I worked nightshift last night. It is going good by the way; I am all settled in. Thank you for your concern.” I throw a judgmental tone back.

“Oh, the dramatics, Graham. What I really want to know why you turned Claire away and you have not returned any of her calls or texts all week. Really, Graham, I raised you better than that.”

“Mom, Claire and I are not and will not be together. How did she even get my new address?”

“I gave it to her, because my disrespectful son decided to run away to be a police officer and left her behind without any warning.”

“I didn’t…” I take a deep breath. Arguing with her will just be a waste of time, so I try again. “Mom, listen to me, I will not be getting together with Claire. We were barely together to begin with, we went on a handful of dates, nothing serious.”

“Ugh, I don’t know how you turned out to be so much like your father, when I tried so hard. That man never worked for our marriage, and he ruined all my plans. Now he is messing you up also.” I can hear in her voice that she is about to threaten tears. “I mean you are practically following in his footsteps.”

This is her M.O.: disapprove, blame Dad, then cry. “Mom, don’t cry, I have barely had any sleep and I don’t need the be-better-than-your-father talk. I get that you want me to get married and ‘have a better life,’ but marriage is not the answer for me. Maybe one day, but not now, and not with Claire.”

“I don’t understand you sometimes, Graham, I don’t know where I went wrong,” she cries.

“Okay great talk, Mom, I will talk to you later. Goodbye.” I hate being harsh with her, but she doesn’t listen to me. Everything is always on her terms. Despite what she thinks, I am not my father. My parents only got married because Dad got her pregnant with me. Getting married because of a pregnancy isn’t a bad thing, but it is better when the couple actually love each other. And even though Mom would argue with me, I don’t believe they were truly in love with each other. She is right though that Dad never worked for it. If I get married, I will give it my all.

I wish I could go back to sleep and restart that dream with Winry. I have had one every night since the night she broke up with that asshat, but after that phone call I am worked up and frustrated. I put on my running stuff and decide to run a few miles around town. I have gotten a good idea of the town now from riding around all night with Owen, but I haven’t really seen it during the day other than going into Winry’s place this morning. Without even really thinking about it, I start to head in that direction.

I noticed on the door that they close at three on Sundays, and it was almost that time. I don’t know why, but I feel comfortable with her. But I imagine most people do—she just gives off this energy that is infectious. I come up on Crossroads and notice her friend Ivy locking up the store. I look around, but I don’t see Winry.

Damn. I missed her.

I try to wave off the feeling of disappointment. I mean really, what is going on with me? I have never wanted to be around someone so much, and I don’t even really know a ton about her. I need to let this go. I know I can’t pursue her, and Winry seems like the type to want the whole package. I definitely am not that. My parents didn’t completely turn me off from the idea of marriage and a family, I just didn’t know if they were things I wanted. They are a bunch of work, and I want to focus on my career right now. I am finally doing something I enjoy. So it is decided: friends only with Winry. It is for the best, for both our sakes.

I make my way back to my place, and I am drenched in sweat and on the verge of a heat stroke. It’s the middle of June, and it is hot. I head straight for the shower; I don’t need anyone to tell me that I stink from that five-mile jog. I let the water run over me and my mind wanders off to that dream I had earlier. Didn’t I just agree to stop thinking about her so much? But it was too late. I was already hard, and judge me all you want, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to have the real her, so what is the harm in this? I grip my dick and brace myself against the bathroom wall and pick up where my dream ended off. It doesn’t take long to find my release. As soon as I get out of the shower, I check my phone, and man was that a mistake.

Dad: Your mom called me yelling and crying blaming me for how you have grown up to be just like me. Can’t please that woman. Never get married, son.

Mom: I’m sorry I cried, but you need to settle down, Graham, you are not getting any younger and neither am I. You will regret letting go of Claire, so call her.

Claire: Your mom called me and said you wanted to have dinner but have been busy. I will bring over some take out tonight. Be there around 5.

Oh no, no, no. What time is it, and then I hear the doorbell.

Well shit.

I throw on some sweats and a t-shirt. This is not going to end well. Why would my mother do this? Scratch that, I know why. Still, I can’t believe she actually took it upon herself to talk Claire into coming back here. I make my way to the door and when I open it, I am met with warm hazel eyes and a dimple chin. All of my frustration immediately dissipates.

“Hey, I realized that I never brought over a welcome-to-the-apartment gift. So I made some of my homemade cookie dough and thought you would like some.” She holds out a container and I take it from her.

“You didn’t have to do this. You made this from scratch? I thought Ivy was the Crossroads baker.”

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