Chapter 12
Friendships
Sawyer and I did something that weekend that we'd never done before - she came over and we watched a movie. Her parents had indeed relaxed her rules around me, since I'd sworn to not have any interest beyond friendship with her. I'd like to think that the decision was partly because they trusted Sawyer as well. She was the most trustworthy person I knew, and I really couldn't see what she could have possibly done to make them so overbearing.
I considered bringing it up while we sat close together on my couch watching some romantic comedy that she had picked up at the grocery store before coming over. I wasn't really interested in the movie, which showed more of an interest in showing off Matthew McConaughey's bare chest than any actual plot, but I was interested in spending time with her, so I kept my groans and eye rolling to myself.
We sat practically on the same cushion, our hips touching and my arm slung around her shoulders. She had her feet up on the couch and angled her knees into me, her head resting on my shoulder. If her dad had been here, he probably would have revoked her visitation rights immediately; we did look a little too cozy for platonic friends. But that was just the way we were. We enjoyed the comfort of each other's touch and when we were alone together, we often relished in it.
My thumb stroked her upper arm as I spaced out on the movie and instead thought about what to say to her. I wanted to know what was so mysterious. I wanted to know what she'd done that had uprooted her family and practically put a leash on her. I also wanted to respect her silence.
And Lord knows, I wasn't the most vocal one about my own secrets. I never talked with her about the crash. In fact, I never even brought up that night with her. The few instances she'd caught me crying about it, were really the only times it came up between us. Usually when I was with her, I was trying to push that part of my life away.
The bad parts anyway, I still wanted the good parts, the happy memories and most of all, the amazing dreams I'd been having with my friends. I still craved those and tried to bring them to me nightly. And Lillian. . . she hadn't reappeared to me yet, but I was ready for her to, ready to tell her I loved her. Maybe speaking of having a girlfriend out loud during Thanksgiving dinner, had finally broken through that last barrier in me. I was ready to move forward. . . with her.
And I was well aware of the oxymoron in that. I was aware that moving forward with a dead girl wasn't actually possible. But it was real enough for me. She filled the hole in me that her passing had created and I was going to greedily fill it with her ethereal presence. Once I got her to reappear to me, that was.
I'd considered talking to Sawyer about her. . . but I couldn't. There'd be no point in that. I knew exactly what she'd say, exactly what anyone would say - 'That's crazy, Luc. That's not a real relationship. ' And Sawyer may actually make that conversation worse by adding, 'Is that why you won't be with me, because you're in love with your dead girlfriend and living out your fantasies with her. . . in your dreams?'
My stomach clenched at just the thought of hearing Sawyer say those words. I knew the situation would hurt her. . . and I didn't want to do that. She meant everything to me. So our first real time together, not in school, and not under the pretense of "homework" was spent mostly in silence, each of us respecting the other's desire for privacy. And I loved every second of it, regardless of that ridiculous man's ridiculously buff body.
Poking fun at her movie choice, and vowing to pick the next one, I parted ways with her a couple of hours later. A few hours after that, after having a late dinner with my mom, who'd conveniently "run errands" while Sawyer was visiting, I headed off to bed, hoping to meet up with the other woman in my life.
And I did. . . sort of.
I'd managed to bring myself back to that field just beyond my house. That field dappled in sunlight with a bubbling brook beside it. The air was warm and cheery and a light breeze ruffled my messy hair. It was sort of idyllic and I was proud of myself for recreating it. Somehow I'd even managed to bring the bed back.
I sat on the edge of it and waited. . . waited for her to come to me. The sky darkened and I momentarily worried that I'd lose control and it would start raining, I didn't want to dream about the rain. I concentrated on the clouds, demanding that they open back up and drench me in sunshine. It took awhile, but eventually a bright shaft hit me in the face and I blinked, suddenly blinded.
"Impressive, you're getting pretty good at this. "
I smiled and brought my hand up over my eyes to look at Lil standing at the side of the bed in front of me. Only, it wasn't Lillian. My eyes opened wider as I took in the auburn hair gleaming in the sunshine. I'd been concentrating so hard on Lil, that I really hadn't expected to see anyone else. In my surprise, I lost control of the one aspect of the dream I was currently using, and crashed harshly to the ground as the bed underneath me vanished.
I grunted as I landed painfully on my back. Rubbing my backside, I scowled up at Sammy, who was laughing as she looked down at me. Shaking her head, she extended a hand and helped me up. She pointedly looked at the spot where the bed had been. "Not who you were expecting?"
I shook away my surprise and pulled her in for a hug. No, not who I was expecting, but a welcome friend regardless. "Hey, Sammy. "
She held me back just as tight. "Hey, Lucas. "
We broke apart and she looked around at the romantic setting I'd provided. I looked around as well and felt myself blushing; Sammy knew exactly what had happened here, in my steamiest dream to date. She grinned when she noticed my face. "Thank you for getting rid of the bed. " Laughing, she lightly shoved my shoulder away from her. "I don't think you and I will need it, but maybe Darren and I can use it later. " She laughed again and the radiant warmth in it eased my discomfort.
"Where's, Lil?" I asked softly, once her laughs had tapered back.
She sighed and kicked a rock in the grass. "Ah, Luc. . . she wanted me to come instead. Try talking to you. . . "
I sighed and sat down at the kitchen table. . . that was suddenly in the field where the bed had been a second ago. "About what, Sammy?"
Instead of taking the other chair, she walked around to my feet and squatted down in front of me. She picked up both of my hands and ran her thumbs over the backs while she grasped them. "You need to stop this, Lucas. "
I stiffened and shook my head, both not wanting to stop and not wanting to hear another friend ask me too. "No. . . why?" I shrugged and suddenly felt very alone. "Don't you guys want to see me?" I knew my voice was small and pathetic, but I suddenly felt that way.
I looked at my lap and felt one of her hands release mine to cup my cheek. "Of course we do, Lucas. We want to see you. We'd see you very night if it were up to us. . . . "
"But. . . " I muttered.
"But, we're trying to do what's best for you. And this," she waved her hand around the dreamscape I'd created for Lil, "this isn't right. "
I shook my head. "It's just a dream, Sammy. . . I know that. But it brings me comfort. Why can't I have that? Why can't I have you guys. . . and Lillian. "
Her hand returned to my hand in my lap. "Because it's not just a dream to you, it's not just comfort. It's a date. . . with her. A date you were hoping would lead to. . . more. " She raised her eyebrows as she gave me a stern look. "You're trying to continue the relationship you had with her, in your head. Advance it even. "
I shook my head again. "I just want to tell her that I love her. I'm not trying to. . . " I shrugged my shoulders lamely. "I just want to finally tell her I love her. I never got to. . . "
Sammy sighed and brought her hand to my cheek again, running it down my face. "She knows that. Do you honestly think she didn't know that?"
I closed my eyes at the reference to Lillian in the past tense. Tears started to burn them and I swallowed harshly. She wasn't past tense. . . not here. Here, she was alive. Here, she was real. "I want to see Lil now, Sammy," I scratched out, my voi
ce raw with barely contained emotion.
I felt Sammy standing and opened my eyes to watch her lean form grab the other chair and swing it around to me. She sat right beside me and grabbed my hand, much like Sawyer would have. "I'm sorry, Lucas. . . not tonight. "
I squeezed her hand as my eyes watered even more. "Please?" I wasn't sure who I was begging - Sammy, Lillian, my dream world. . . or myself.
Sammy was the one that answered though. "She won't appear to you tonight, Luc. As hard as you try, it won't happen. " She lifted just one corner of her full lips. "It's me or nothing. "
I sighed and slumped against my chair before leaning my head over to Sammy's shoulder. I'd take her over nothing any day. She leaned her head against mine and murmured into my hair, "Are you disappointed that it's just me?"
I raised my head to look at her. "No, no of course not, Sammy. " I swallowed and looked down. "I just. . . Lil and I's last moment didn't end well, and I wanted to talk to her about it. "
She sighed and clenched my hand. "I know. Your last few moments alone with her have been kind of. . . intense. "
I shrugged and looked away. There was nothing I could hide from my friends. Not here. "Right, I suppose you've been getting into my dreams just like Darren? I suppose asking you not to, would be just as ridiculous as asking him not to. " I shrugged again and looked back at her, feeling my cheeks heat.
She laughed a little and shook her head. "I would give you the privacy if I could, Luc, but you know I don't really have a choice. " Her finger came up to tap my head and I got the reference. All of this was in my head; they all knew what I knew. I gave her a wry smile and shook my head. Lil would know about me telling Sammy that I loved her just now. Of course, it wasn't a big secret. We both knew we loved each other; we just couldn't seem to say it.
She rested her chin on my shoulder as I thought about that. "Darren does have a point, you know, about you pulling us to you. " I looked at her from the corner of my eye, wanting to object again, but holding my tongue. She sighed and raised her chin from my shoulder. "We love you, Luc, but you can't have a life like this, always living in your head with us. " Her knuckle came up to stroke my cheek. "What future is there for you like that?"
I gave her a tired smile and shook my head. "That's what you guys don't seem to grasp. I don't care. I don't care about that life. I want you guys. I want my friends. I want to keep coming here, and seeing you and Darren. . . and Lil. "
"You can't keep having. . . intense moments with her, Luc. " Her golden eyes narrowed at me, a shaft of light hitting them, and making them seem to glow with the life I so readily remembered from her. "You're hurting her and making her feel really guilty. " She shrugged while I frowned. "She feels really bad about the moments she's already let happen. "
My mouth dropped at that. I'd never imagined making my girlfriend feel bad, by touching her. "She's feel bad. . . why?"
She sighed and shook her head, like she was speaking in a foreign language to someone who couldn't understand. And in a way, I didn't. What was wrong with me having an active fantasy life with my friends? I wasn't hurting anyone. No one even knew how often I hung out with them. The real world held no intrigue for me anyway, everything I wanted was right here. Well, besides Sawyer, I guess. She was the only thing worth getting out of bed for.
"Because she wants you to move forward. She sees how you isolate yourself and shut down, barely talking to anyone, not saying nearly enough to your counselor. " She raised her eyebrows and looked at me pointedly. "If it weren't for Sawyer, I think you'd be mute. "
I shrugged and looked out over the shadows and light playing across the field. I briefly wondered if I should make it rain anyway. It would match my mood if Sammy and I were drenched. "I have nothing to say," I said flatly.
She sighed heavily and I looked back at her. Her brow was creased with definite irritation. It was an odd look to see on Sammy, she was rarely ever angry. "You're not the same person, Lucas. "
My own irritation spiked. "Of course I'm not. I killed all of my friends - do you have any idea what that did to me?"
Her face immediately softened, her hand coming back to my cheek. "Yes. . . I do. "
As her thumb stroked my face, I whispered, "Can I please see Lil now. "
She sighed softly and shook her head, slight tears stinging her eyes. "I'm sorry, Luc. . . not tonight. "
I woke up after that, wishing I could go back into the dream and twist it the way I wanted to, twist my friends the way I wanted to. But then it would be completely false. If I made my friends do and say what I wanted them to, well, then they really would be gone. I closed my eyes, wondering if I was completely insane.
It was early enough that I felt I could get up and start getting ready for Monday morning back at school. I showered, shaved and dressed in a long-sleeve tee and baggy jeans. I was styling my hair in the mirror when the photo tucked in the edge caught my attention. I pulled it out and looked over the happy image of the four of us. Things had been so different then. Darren and Sammy had been trying to convince Lil and me to road trip to LA over the summer. We probably would have. We probably would have all piled into Darren's car and made a memory that would have stayed with me 'til my death bed. I suppose that summer did leave a lasting impression on me, just not quite in the way I'd expected.
"Luc?"
I turned to look at my open doorway and saw my mom leaning against it, watching me. I gave her a halfhearted smile before gazing at the picture one last time and then tucking it back in the mirror. Still staring at my tired looking reflection, I heard her tell me that she'd made some coffee. I nodded at her reflection, noting her own tired eyes.
I walked over to her and slung my arm around her shoulder, walking together to the kitchen to start our morning ritual. She smiled up at me and patted my chest. When it was ready, we drank our coffees in silence, me staring out the window, turning over the dream with Sammy, while Mom quietly worked on a crossword puzzle.
A horn honking startled me from my thoughts and I glanced over at my mom. She was studying her watch and I could almost see her mentally tracking the minutes. I looked over at the clock, but neither one of us were late for our days.
"You okay, Mom?" I asked, as I stood to get my backpack.
With the impatient look of someone waiting for something, she smiled and said, "Of course, everything is fine, honey. " She stood and kissed my cheek. "Have a good day, Luc. "
I nodded and wished her the same. With one last hug before I slipped on my jacket, I wished my mom well and made my way out to Sawyer. I must have had a strange look on my face in the car, for she shot concerned glances at me the entire drive to school. Once in the lot, she finally twisted to face me as she shut the car off. "You okay, Luc. . . I mean, really okay? You seem. . . quiet. " She cocked her head to the side, her silky hair shifting to flow over the shoulder of my letterman's jacket.
I blinked, making myself let go of the night I'd had, and threw on my best 'I'm fine' face. Her brows pulled together and I thought maybe I wasn't pulling it off very well. I shook my head. "I'm. . . " I started to say 'I'm fine', but looking at her concerned face, I ended up saying, "Just a weird dream, that's all. " I shrugged. "I'm just trying to process it. "
Her face softened. "Oh. Do you want to talk about it?" She placed her hand over mine and rubbed her thumb across the back.
I smiled at her warmth, but shook my head. She wouldn't understand. "No. . . " I looked down and peeked up at her from the corner of my eye, hoping she bought my next sentence. "I don't. . . remember enough of it, to talk about it. "
She nodded and squeezed my hand, not asking for any further details. "Well, just keep in mind that dreams are just dreams. " She smiled warmly, as she unknowingly broke my heart. "They don't mean anything. "
I felt my chest squeeze and looked away from her, opening the door. She opened hers as well and met me at the front of her car, holding her hand out for me. I took it wit
h my head still down, willing the tears to stay in my eyes.
Dreams didn't mean anything? But. . . what if dreams were all I had?
**********
Although the Thanksgiving break had been a short one, it seemed to reenergize the school. There was a last day of school feeling around the campus, from teachers and students alike. Everyone seemed ready to let studying go and kick back and have some fun during winter break. When I walked by groups of people with my head down, I could hear them making plans for the upcoming mini-vacation a few weeks away.
I had no plans. I had no desire to make plans. All I really wanted was to keep seeing Sawyer everyday and if I couldn't do that at school, then at least I could look forward to her coming over to my house. I suppose in a way, those were my plans.
The students buzzed with holiday energy and more than a few took notice of me again in their excitement. Not that they found talking to me exciting, but their pent up energy needed some release, and tormenting me was one way to do that.
Will kept up his shoving, pushing and tripping, successfully sprawling me across the hallway one afternoon in such a nonchalant way, that it looked like I'd stumbled over nothing and decided to spread eagle on the floor for the hell of it. Yeah, the students in the hall when it happened had found that hilarious.
And of course Josh got over our intense conversation and started trying to stir things up again. He was prodded on by a few people around him, urging him to try kicking my ass. I stopped even looking at him. I couldn't stop him from outright attacking me, but I could try and control how I responded to him. It didn't hurt any less, listening to him verbally attack me without even registering his existence, but it kept me in sort of a numb zone, where I didn't cry or yell or try and hit him. That was an improvement in my books, so I embraced the numbness.
Brittany continued tormenting me too, and, in her own twisted way, Sawyer as well. When I met up with Sawyer after art class, she'd toss derogative comments my way to her friends, then smirk at me suggestively when they were busy laughing. I had no idea what she hoped to gain by both flirting and dissing me, but I wished she'd stop. I really wished she'd stop tormenting Sawyer. I'd come across her on more than one occasion with a hurt look on her face as some girls, led by Brittany, walked away giggling. I had the sneaking suspicion that my callus remark about not being her boyfriend was to blame.
The rumor mill was loving the fact that I was physically close to Sawyer, but appeared to be emotionally distant from her - as Brittany had cruelly said, 'I was fucking her, when I didn't even care about her. ' Like most things about me, it couldn't have been farther from the truth and also like most things about me, it couldn't have been more readily accepted from the students at Sheridan High.
More than a few stared at us as we walked down the hall, shaking their head at me and whispering. Now, not only was I a drunk, I was a louse too. Perfect. Just what I always wanted to be when I grew up.
I kept my head down, stayed out of conversations, and ignored the bustle and buzzing around me. Besides Sawyer, I ignored most everything and I was getting exceptionally good at it. I also hadn't opened up any more in my counseling sessions. I was halfway through my treatment, and figured I only had to show up for the next few weeks and things would get back to normal, well, my normal anyway.
Mrs. Ryans seemed to notice that I was shutting down and shifted her topics accordingly. She talked more about the incident that got me there, trying to get me to talk about Josh's involvement, which I wouldn't, and trying to get me to tell her what I'd been feeling during the incident. That had taken me back at first. I mean, I was high, I wasn't really feeling anything. But then I realized that wasn't true, most of my feelings, beside the unfortunate come-on to Ms. Reynolds, had been about Sawyer.
I made the mistake of mentioning that to Mrs. Ryans, or Beth, as she still kept trying to get me to call her, and opened a new portal in my head for her to dig through - my relationship with Sawyer. I gave her the standard 'we're just friends' speech, but she didn't seem to buy it. It probably didn't help that she purposely kept an ear on the gossip around school and had undoubtedly heard about the nastiness that swirled around us.
I didn't know what to say about that. I mean, we were just friends and the rumors were way off. But a nagging part of me remembered kissing her, remembered her lips on mine and wondered. It couldn't be more than friendship though, not with my continued involvement with Lil (who was still avoiding me), but I didn't mention that to Mrs. Ryans. She'd probably lock me up in a padded room or something, and Sawyer and I were complicated enough without bringing my special brand of crazy into it.
Sawyer had started hanging out at my house every day after school, which was becoming the highlight of my day. It wasn't as if we didn't see each other all the time, but there was something about being alone in my house, away from the scrutiny of the student body. It was relaxing and we let our guards down a little. We talked and laughed and watched movies and sometimes, if her parents let her stay late enough, she even let me make her my Hot Pocket dinner specialty. We didn't talk about anything overly deep, nothing about her secret, nothing about mine, but we talked about the rumors at school and the torments of Will and Josh and Brittany. We were bonded already, but going through that chaos together, I don't know, it bonded us even tighter. I felt surer of her than anyone, besides my mom, of course.
And we were comfortable together. We'd stretch out on the couch, my long legs taking up all the cushions, hers flopped causally over mine as we cuddled up under a blanket to watch a movie she'd rented - one that I'd approved first. We were lying that way, my arms wrapped around her as she stretched in front of me on the edge of the couch, my head back against the armrest, watching one of the Terminators, when my eyes started to drift closed. Fully content and happy with her in my grip, I let myself relax into sleep. . .
The sound of water falling filled my head, lifting my awareness. Each drop felt like a gong going off in my brain it was so loud, or maybe that was because everything else was so silent. I wasn't sure where I was for a moment and couldn't remember what had just happened. All I was aware of, was the dripping sound of rain on vinyl and metal, and then slowly, I became aware of the rushing sound of water pouring down glass. I shifted and opened my eyes. Immediately, I inhaled a sharp breath and my vision clouded, as pain vibrated through my skull. I brought a hand to the side of my head and felt the blood there. Then I remembered where I was and what had happened.
I was in the smashed remains of Darren's car. We'd just gone over the embankment and I'd had a rough ride down the steep hill, ending with a painful smack against the side window. I remembered that solid hit, felt the remembered pain of my head whiplashing back against the glass; my neck remembered that too. But my window had remained intact and, beside the smear of blood on the side of my skull and the pain screaming throughout my jolted body, I was alive. Miraculously, I was alive.
My eyes refocused on the water streaming down the windshield like a surging river. The sudden downpour was still streaming hard around us. Wait. . . us. . . My hazy brain struggled to remember that I wasn't the only one in the car. I remembered Lillian hitting her head hard against her window, and wondered if that had hurt her, as much as it had hurt me. Carefully, I reached my hand out for her. In the darkness of the dim lights from the dash, I could only see the basic outline of her body, slumped against the passenger side door.
"Lil?"
My hand brushed her shoulder but she didn't move at the contact. "Lil?" I carefully unbuckled my seatbelt and, even though every muscle in my chest and hips protested, I moved as close to her as I could in our bucket seats. "Baby, talk to me. "
As my vision improved more, I glanced back at the empty rear seat, the open door, where I could just barely make out the scraggly underbrush and shadowy trees, before they disappeared into the dark thickness of night. I remembered Darren and Sammy's unbuckled bodies bursting through that door, the force of t
heir impact breaking the inferior metal of the latch. Where were they outside? Were they okay? God, please let them be okay. My head throbbed and my heart raced as I turned back to Lillian.
"Lil, did you see where Darren and Sammy went? Lil?"
When she still didn't respond to me, I brought my hand to her cheek, her cold cheek. Concerned, I finally noticed the glass around her still body, her head resting against the boulder protruding through it, the slick wetness of her blood on the rock, turning it black in the darkness. Wind was coming through the shattered window, bringing rain with it, dampening Lil's blouse and shorts and washing the blood down her arms. So much blood. Flashes of her head smacking that stone assaulted me. She'd hit it so hard. Her fragile, fragile head had hit it so hard. There was so much blood. . .
My heart in my throat, speech barely still possible, I turned her face gently to look in her eyes. "Lillian, baby? Please. . . answer me. . . " Her head offered no resistance and twisted easily in my grasp. My wide eyes locked onto hers, but it was too late, no one was there to look back at me. . .
I woke with a start, screaming.
I had been in a cold, dimly lit car in dark woods, the sound of rain all around me, but now I was in a warm, dry, and brightly lit room, lying down on a soft couch, with a TV flickering in the background, playing the end of the movie I couldn't remember. I wasn't registering that a dream was fading from me, and hopelessly confused, I had no idea where I was and what was real. Still sobbing, I clung to the last remnants of my nightmare. "No, no, no. Lil, talk to me! Please. . . please don't be. . . "
Hands and arms and hair flew around me, taking me into a tight embrace. Soothing sounds entered my ear as I broke down into remembered sobs. Lil's eyes - those beautiful, loving, pale blue eyes - empty. . . vacant. . . dead. I sobbed even harder, gasping for air. "The rain. . . I couldn't stop. . . so much water. . . I couldn't stop. . . the rock. . . oh god, her head. . . so much blood. . . there's so much blood. . . I don't know what to do. . . "
"It's alright, Lucas. . . let it go. It was a dream. . . you're safe. "
It was a dream. I was safe. I recognized then, that I was safe on the couch, wrapped securely in Sawyer's arms and not back there again. But she was wrong, it wasn't just a dream, it was a memory and she wasn't safe. None of them had been. My hands cinched around her waist as I buried my head in her shoulder, and continued my wracking, tortured crying.
"God, Sawyer, why won't this ever stop? I just want it to stop," I sputtered between my tears.
I felt her fingers wiping some tears from my face and when my sobbing subsided, I pulled back to search her eyes, for comfort or maybe for hope. She cupped my cheek lightly as we locked gazes. Hers were moist and concerned, as empathetic as eyes could get. I reached up to grab her cheek and we held each other's faces as a few more tears fell from me silently. Swallowing, I rested my head against hers. "I just want it to stop. " I leaned up so our noses were resting side by side; my heart was thudding in my ears. "Please. . . just make it stop. "
Sawyer's breath was fast on my face through her parted lips and I found myself matching her pace. Not thinking of anything but pushing aside this grief, I found her mouth. She gasped as our lips met: soft, wet and slightly salty from so many of my tears. "Please. . . make it stop," I muttered around our lips. Her breath was still fast against my skin and her hand inched up to weave into my hair. She let out a soft noise, and the lingering pain of my nightmare faded as her reaction to me stirred something deep inside, something I'd thought was so buried it would never resurface in waking life. The warmth of desire flooded through me and my hand slid around to her neck, pulling her into me.
Our lips parted and my tongue lightly slid into her, brushing up against hers. She moaned and an ache went straight through me, blocking out all remnants of my vicious memory. She tasted sweet, like the watermelon jolly rancher she'd been sucking on earlier. It was indescribably good and I wanted to taste more. I angled my mouth differently and deepened our connection, my hands twisting into her dark locks. She moaned softly again and the slight ache shifted to an almost painful need. I needed her. I'd always emotionally needed her. . . but this, this was entirely different.
Keeping her mouth close to me, I shifted her from our side-by-side position, so that her back was flush to the cushions. Never breaking the motion of our lips, I leaned over her, shifting more of my body on top of her. Her fingers dropped from my hair to run down my back and my body shivered in response. She made a soft noise in her throat and wrapped her legs around mine as I carefully adjusted my entire body over the top of hers, the blanket that had been draped over us, dropping to the floor.
The need surging through me, overran my commonsense, and before I could analyze what we were doing, I was pressing the most sensitive part of my body against the most sensitive part of hers. I was hard, I was ready, and I was aching so bad my legs were slightly shaking. She gasped at the feel of me and her fingers clutched at my back when we connected. I groaned at the feel of her and moved my lips to her neck.
While I placed deep kisses up her neck to her ear, we started moving together intimately. It was the most incredible thing I'd felt (while being awake) in a long while, and it didn't take long for our movements to become more urgent, along with our breath. It was almost like my earlier despair had crumbled the dam between us, and we were finally letting the weeks of pent-up attraction spill over into our lips and bodies. Our desire to connect was an almost frantic one, with our fingers lightly tugging, and teasingly pulling at our clothing, while our hips moved in perfect, simulated rhythm.
She sucked on my neck, her teeth lightly grazing my skin while my hands slid up under her shirt to feel the softness of her stomach, the hardness of her nipples through her bra. She ran her hands under my shirt and up my back, the feel of her fingernails along my bare muscles sending electricity straight down my body, making me throb with the need to release.
I hissed in a sharp breath and pushed harder against her, wishing it was more. Our mouths met again, our tongues searching the other out, and each break of our lips brought a ragged breath or a soft groan. I heard myself mutter "more" and "please". I heard her suck in a groaning breath and utter my name. I'd never heard so much passion and desire leaked into the syllables of that word. It crumbled me.
Driven by pure desperation and need, my hands slid down her body and tugged at her jeans, wanting them off, wanting that barrier between us gone. "Please. . . I need. . . more. Closer. . . please, closer. " My words were breathless, coming in pants between our fiery kisses. Every inch of me felt electrified, oversensitive, and every rub, moan, and moment of flesh on flesh seared me. . . but I still needed more.
She whimpered and groaned my name, followed by her own pleas for more, and then her fingers moved between us, and stilling my hips, she unzipped her jeans. My heart pounding, our lips never stopping, I felt her push them down, just passed her hips, and then her fingers reached over to unzip mine. "Oh god, please," I muttered, as I helped her position mine the same.
With my erection pushing against my shorts, freed from the restraint of one barrier of clothing, I resettled on her thighs. Her hands slid around to grab my hips, guiding me where she most needed me. With a ragged cry, her whole body arched against me as we pressed against each other, unimpeded by the thick fabric of our denims. I bit my lip and groaned heavily, feeling the warmth of her body, as the thin materials separating us slid together. I could feel a faint trace of dampness on her underwear as the edge of my hardness, passed over the edge of her softness. It was bliss. A bliss I didn't know I could still feel while being conscious.
Vague cries and gasps and muttered pleas for more filled my ears, some from her, some from me. It was so easy to be with her like this, that I couldn't remember why we'd never done this before. I couldn't even think about all the lines of friendship we were crossing. I couldn't think of anything, really. My mind had shut off awhile ago and only sensation, desire and insti
nct drove me.
Her own out of control needs seemed to be driving her as well. In one fast move and arch of her back, her hands went to her hips and she pushed her jeans down farther. My breath hitched with the anticipation of where this might go, of where I wanted it to go, and then I hastily helped her scrunch the bulky material all the way off her legs. With her jeans no longer restricting us, I settled more firmly in-between her thighs and pressed directly against her.
"Oh, Sawyer. . . god, yes," I muttered, as I was finally able to completely press my full length up against her. I could definitely feel the warmth of her moisture on me this way, her readiness for me, for this, and I groaned heavily as her legs clamped around mine. My heart surged and my breath could barely keep pace as our hips found a rhythm that was natural and appealing, and felt so much more connected than how we physically were. With a loud cry, her head dropped back on the cushions and her hands ran back up my spine. She started to pant in an intoxicating rhythm and her hands came up to tangle in my hair. I watched her face intently, knowing she was close to coming and, oh god, how I wanted to come with her. My breath came in a quicker pant as I pushed harder and faster against her.
She muttered my name over and over, followed by a faint "don't stop" and closed her eyes as her body stiffened, and the beginnings of ecstasy washed over her. I wanted more. I wanted to stop grinding against her. I wanted to pull down her underwear and slip inside her. I wanted to feel her coming around me, while I came inside of her. I'd never gone that far before with anyone, but I suddenly wanted it more than I wanted the air I was gasping for. I imagined how that would feel - her body wrapped around me: warm, wet, tight. . .
She cried out and clenched my back hard as her climax intensified. A moment of desperation washed over me as I moved against her ceaselessly, grabbing her hips and pulling her into me, as I unconsciously started shifting her underwear down. I wanted to come inside her so bad. I wanted to come so bad. And then, suddenly, and much to my surprise. . . I did.
My fingers curled around the edges of her panties, twisting them, and I dropped my head to her shoulder. She pulled me tight to her, a long cry escaping me as the orgasm ripped through my body. She ran her hands through my hair as a chorus of "oh god" ran through my head and surely followed out of my mouth. I panted in her ear, struggling to control my breath, while she ran a hand tenderly down my back and whispered my name.
It was hearing her lovingly say my name that snapped reality back into me. Oh, fuck. . . no. What did I just let happen? What did I just do? Ugh, and kind of all over her. Did I just ruin everything?
Frozen in terror, I remained on top of her, my head glued to her shoulder, until both of our breaths returned to normal. Feeling genuine fear, I lifted my head to look at her. We stared at each other with almost frozen in shock faces. He hadn't had sex, technically, but it felt like we just had. We'd been so connected and needy, almost desperate with how much we'd wanted each other. And I'd wanted so much more than just coming in my shorts. I'd wanted her in a way I'd never wanted anyone but Lillian.
Thinking of Lil made icy guilt flash right through me. This would kill Lil the next time I saw her. . . and she'd know; I couldn't keep anything from my friends. They knew what I knew. . . and they'd all know about this. I imagined Lillian would be crushed.
Finally, feeling horrid and guilty, and a little gross, I lifted off of her. "I should. . . I'm gonna. . . I'll be back in a minute. " She only nodded as I stood up and adjusted my jeans. Avoiding looking at her again, I went to my room. I changed my underwear and cleaned myself up; luckily most of the mess appeared to have stayed with me. Throwing on a pair of sweats that were lying on my floor, I ran a hand through my hair and sighed noisily.
Great. If I hadn't been misleading before. . . I definitely was now. Why did I let that get so carried away? Why did I even start that, when I suspected she had real feelings for me? I thought of my dream. I thought of my despair and my overwhelming need to make it end. I sighed as the answer struck me - I'd needed the release. I'd been selfish, and taken something from her that I was pretty sure she'd let me have. I closed my eyes as I put my hand on the door handle, momentarily thanking my sudden orgasm from stopping me from going all the way with her. I wasn't sure if she'd have let that happen or not. . . but I had the feeling she would have. Because she likes me, because she cares about me. . . for some odd reason. I hoped she wasn't hurt by what just happened, but I didn't see how she couldn't be. God, now I really was a louse.
Sighing, I opened my door and prepared to face her. Shaking my head, I wondered how things could change so fast. In one night, I'd managed to hurt the two women that mattered most to me. I'd betrayed Lil and misled Sawyer even more. I wished I could redo the entire day. Hell, if I was wishing for redos, then I wished I could rewind time all the way to that night.
I walked back out to the living room, where she was sitting quietly on the couch, perfectly put back together and playing with the ring on her thumb. I sighed softly at seeing her nervous habit return and she looked up at me when she heard the noise. I moved to sit beside her, keeping as much distance between us that I could, without offending her. "Sawyer. . . " Oh god, I didn't want to have to say this. . . "I'm. . . I'm really sorry. . . about. . . that. " She flushed with color and nodded, studying the floor. I swallowed and felt my cheeks heating. I hated this. "Do you want to talk about it?"
I really hoped she said no, and we could just pretend none of this ever happened. She looked up at me with analyzing eyes and I wondered if my thoughts were all over my face. They must have been, for after a moment of contemplation she finally shook her head. "I should. . . It's getting late, I should go. "
I ran a hand through my hair and nodded as she stood up. I stood up next to her and debated grabbing her hand, or putting mine on her shoulder, or even hugging her, but everything felt weird and contradictory, so I didn't do anything. "Okay. . . um. . . I'll see you tomorrow morning then?" I didn't mean for it to come out like a question, but it did.
She nodded, her mind clearly deep in thought, and made her way to the door, where she grabbed her bag and jacket. I silently watched her slip them on and place her hand on the door. My heart squeezed at the thought of the strain I'd placed between us; we'd been so perfect. She turned back to look at me with her hand still on the knob. "Goodnight, Lucas. "
"Goodnight, Sawyer," I whispered. And I'm really sorry.