Three reasons to run, p.15
Three Reasons to Run, page 15
I’m not sure. I’ve only just become acquainted with this side of myself.
But maybe, in the right circumstances…
“You can look now.” He turns the picture around.
The remarkable thing is that it’s clearly me. Even though it’s not super detailed. Even though there’s something extraordinarily sensual about it. Not just because I’m naked—not all nude art is sensual.
“What do you think?” he asks.
Sometimes, I can’t read him. Is he nervous to show this to me? Or is he confident I’ll like it? His expression gives nothing away.
My gaze snaps back to the drawing. “I love it.”
He starts to rip the page out of the spiral sketchbook.
“Wait!” I set a hand on his. “What are you doing?”
“Giving it to you. You don’t want it?”
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to keep it for yourself?”
“You should have it.”
I think of how he insisted that I keep his old phone. He wants to make sure I control every image of me in the nude. He doesn’t expect me to fully trust him, and I don’t—not like I would have once trusted a man—though I’m getting close.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He smiles at me, nice and slow, and then he kisses me once more.
It keeps raining, but I don’t mind. Usually, I’d hate a rainy day on vacation, but we’ve seen the things I most wanted to see, and it’s supposed to be nice again tomorrow. So, a day of staying in bed?
Totally fine.
Besides, isn’t that what a honeymoon is supposed to be? You’re so wrapped up in each other that you hardly see the sights?
Remember, Yvonne, it’s not actually a honeymoon.
I tell Leo that we could check out a gallery, if he’d prefer, but he’s content to take it easy.
In addition to staying in bed, I spend some time reading in the nook by the window. At four o’clock, we realize we haven’t eaten since breakfast. The only things in the room are three bottles of wine and a package of trail mix, and I can’t survive on that.
I sigh. “I don’t want to leave the room. I don’t want to put on pants.”
“Yeah, it would be terrible if you had to do that.”
I chuckle, then stand up and head to my suitcase, but before I can find some clothes, Leo’s arms wrap around me.
“I’ll go by myself,” he says. “Just tell me what you want to eat.”
I could kiss him, and so I do, but I step backward before I can get too distracted. “I’m not picky. Whatever you like.”
I read more as he braves the rain. He returns with sandwiches piled high with cheese and prosciutto and arugula, plus tea and a single cookie—for me, of course—and we eat at the small table by the window. The rain has slowed, but it’s windy, and yellow leaves dance across our balcony. I’ve put on pants after all, but only my pajama pants.
After our meal, I open one of the bottles of wine and pour us each a full plastic cup. Since I’m not in the mood to read more, we watch an action movie.
By the time the movie is over, it’s only nine o’clock, and the bottle of wine is mostly finished. I wouldn’t say I’m drunk, but I’m definitely a little loose from the alcohol. That looseness has me draping myself over Leo and joking about playing strip poker, even though we don’t have any cards.
I squeeze his shoulders. “Your muscles are a bit tight. How about I give you a massage?”
He takes off his shirt and lies down on his stomach, on top of the duvet. I remind myself not to get sidetracked as I set my hands on his warm skin. I’m a pretty good masseuse, if I do say so myself, and the noises he makes support that belief. I lose myself in making him feel good, trying to do whatever I can for him.
I don’t feel like a people-pleaser with Leo, though. He treats me well, and when we’re together, I don’t need to censor who I am; I just want to show my appreciation.
Then there are the fantasies that I don’t say out loud. It scares me how much I want them.
Another vacation together.
Another naked drawing.
Night after night after night in the same bed.
I think I’m in trouble.
Chapter 25
Leo
I’ve always liked Yvonne, but two months ago, I liked her just as a pretty woman who was, unfortunately, engaged to my cousin. Sure, I knew that perfect lighting followed her wherever she went, and she seemed kind and thoughtful and better at making small talk than me. But although I was drawn to her, I didn’t know her well.
I didn’t know what it was like to share a meal with her, just the two of us.
I didn’t know what it was like to look after one of her plants.
I didn’t know what it was like to kiss her and bury myself deep inside her and fuck her in front of a goddamn mirror.
I didn’t know what it was like to travel with her. Or to hold her in my arms while she sleeps…like she’s doing right now, after we split a bottle of wine and she gave me a massage.
A day like today? I wouldn’t have let myself imagine it.
And now that I know her even better, I can’t help wanting more.
When I sketched her earlier—the first time I’d ever given myself permission to put her likeness on the page—she was so comfortable being naked with me. She enjoyed showing off. I didn’t have to encourage her, like I might have in the past.
No, she’s open with me, and it makes me wonder…
I shouldn’t want more. I’ve already gotten more than I’d ever imagined—I shouldn’t want to keep her, but I do. And I might not be the smartest guy, but I think it might be possible.
Yeah, there’s still the whole Carl issue, and if she’d like to take it slow and wait for a little before we tell people, that’s okay. I know it’s not the simplest situation, but we can make it work, no?
She shifts in my arms, her hair tickling my throat, and a bolt of longing hits me.
Yvonne in my bed? I don’t want it to be a luxury.
Well, no. It’ll always be a bit of a luxury; I don’t see how it could be otherwise. But I want it to be a common one. That should seem impossible for a man like me, but I can’t help feeling strangely optimistic.
I’d be good to her, dammit. I certainly wouldn’t cheat on her and make her doubt her attractiveness, like my asshole of a cousin. But that’s the bare minimum, and I want her to have a hell of a lot more than that.
She asked me to come on this trip—does that mean something?
And if it’s not meant to be, why does it feel so damn good to hold her? Why can I spend every minute of the day with her—other than that brief trip to get takeout—and still feel like it’s not enough?
Yeah, it’s midnight, and everything is a bit hazy, but I think I should ask her.
Not tomorrow. It’s the last full day of our vacation.
Maybe I’ll do it on the drive home.
Chapter 26
Yvonne
When I wake up on Tuesday morning, I don’t feel disoriented. This is the third morning I’ve woken up next to Leo, and I’m starting to get used to it.
That gives me pause.
I don’t feel very single right now, not when I keep waking up with a man in my bed. Not when I’m inserting him into my dreams for the future.
“Hey,” he murmurs, stroking my hair back from my face.
“Morning.” I swallow past the lump in my throat. “It looks like a nice day.”
“What do you want to do?”
Because I did extensive research for this trip, I have lots of ideas. After a zucchini and tomato frittata, served with toast and homemade jam, we go to another state park, then head to a cidery for lunch. Our table is on the heated patio, which has a lovely view of the orchards. The patio isn’t busy, perhaps because it’s a Tuesday, and even with the heaters, it might be slightly chillier than some people would prefer.
While we’re waiting for our food, my phone buzzes. It’s Tracey, sharing a photo of Isaac. As I show it to Leo, I decide this would be a good time to ask him a question.
“Do you want kids?”
Most people want kids, don’t they? Odds are he does, and that will shut down any romantic fantasies in my brain because it’s not something I’m willing to compromise on. I know what I want, and I won’t change my mind.
He shakes his head. “One of my exes…she had a pregnancy scare and it…” He scrubs a hand over his face. “It scared the shit out of me. I don’t usually freak out, but that did it. A few months later, I got a vasectomy.”
I choke on my cider. This certainly isn’t where I thought the conversation would go. A man so serious about not having kids that he’s had a vasectomy by the age of thirty?
A familiar notch appears between his eyebrows. “Is something wrong?”
“No.”
That’s a lie. It’s wrong that I’m imagining our child-free future together. It’s wrong that I’m feeling so attached. Maybe I’m only thinking of a future with him because being alone frightens me.
However, there’s still some time left in our trip, and I might as well enjoy it. When I smile at Leo, that seems to reassure him, and the notch becomes only a faint line.
And when he takes my hand as we walk across the parking lot after lunch, I don’t pull back.
We have a nice dinner together in Ithaca, and when we return to the bed and breakfast, we head to our balcony. A keen sense of sorrow envelops me…but then Leo’s arms are around me, his chest against my back, and that stems my melancholy. He’s here for now.
He presses kisses up and down my neck, and I turn my head to meet his mouth. I try to etch everything about this moment into my memory. His soft yet needy lips on mine, his hand sliding under the hem of my dress, the night breeze on my face. As I shut my eyes, that hand slides up farther, toying with the elastic band on my underwear…and I hear a door slide open.
I freeze. Leo’s mouth stills on my neck.
“Don’t mind us,” someone says.
I open my eyes. There are no outside lights, only the light that spills out from our room, but I can easily make out a couple on the balcony next to ours, a man and a woman.
“We won’t watch,” the man says good-naturedly. A big white guy, maybe a few years younger than me.
There’s a long, oddly charged moment, and I’m unable to move. My feet feel like they’re glued to the balcony.
Then the woman—a petite South Asian woman with a bob—says, “Unless you want us to watch.”
She’s joking. I think.
Well, she said it as a joke, but as I meet her eyes, I can tell…it’s an invitation, if I want it to be. My breath hitches. She winks at me, and I find that wink strangely alluring.
“What do you think?” Leo murmurs in my ear. “You want to give them a little show?”
I can feel everyone looking at me. It’s different from watching myself in front of a mirror, but there’s something exhilarating about it. I wasn’t sure I’d be into this, but…
All of a sudden, my panties are soaked.
When I grip the railing of the balcony and nod, Leo’s quiet laughter tickles my skin.
“Show them your tits,” he whispers. “You have great tits. They deserve to be admired.”
I nod again, and he starts working on the tie at the back of my halter dress. I feel a sizzle of anticipation. He lets the front of my dress fall, exposing my breasts to the night air. My gaze remains on the couple in front of us, bouncing from her face to his.
Who am I?
I’m bad. I’m filthy.
I’m powerful.
My nipples are stiff peaks—and it has nothing to do with the cool breeze.
Leo turns me a little, then dips his head and takes one nipple into his mouth. The man across from me hisses, and I thrust my chest toward Leo and squeeze my other breast with my hand.
I whimper. I’m close to coming, and he hasn’t even touched me there.
He straightens up and rotates me so I’m fully facing the other balcony again. His hand inches up my leg and slips inside my panties.
“You love this, don’t you?” he murmurs when he discovers how wet I am.
It’s like we’re in our own little world, even though we’re being watched.
They won’t be able to see exactly what Leo is doing between my legs, but they’ll be able to see where his hand is…and how it affects me.
I’m a ball of sexual need.
His finger penetrates me, and I bite my bottom lip so I don’t cry out and disturb the silence of the trees around us. His other arm is wrapped around me, his hand securely on my breast, and his mouth is on my shoulder. My hands tighten on the railing, and I’m thankful for the boundary between us and them, even as I enjoy their attention.
A part of me is horrified that they can probably hear how wet I am, as Leo moves his finger in and out. But at the same time, it’s electric. Every inch of me is buzzing with awareness.
Leo adds a second finger. My mouth drops open, but I manage to stay quiet.
I imagine how I must look: chest exposed, pure need written on my face, a man’s hand between my thighs. I was supposed to be on my honeymoon, a good little wife…
“That’s right, baby,” Leo says. “Ride my hand. Come for me.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and open my mouth in a silent scream.
I’m here. Watch me.
When I finally open my eyes, they’re gone.
I turn in Leo’s arms and look him in the eye for the first time in several minutes. His gaze is hungry and his lips are parted.
“I need to be in you,” he growls.
He takes me to bed and tears off my clothes in record time. I’m not sure how it’s possible, but he’s even more desperate than usual. He crushes his mouth against mine, and his hands feel like they’re everywhere all at once.
As he enters me, I hear the headboard in the next room knock against the wall. I smile before clenching Leo’s cock.
“Dammit,” he bites out. “I won’t last if you keep…”
He doesn’t last long, but he makes sure I come again first. Bliss floods my body, and I feel like I’m top of the world.
Once he pulls out, though, I’m wrung dry, my limbs heavy. He strokes my hair and tells me I’m amazing, and he holds me close for a long, long time.
I’ve been sleeping well on this trip, but the last night is a different matter. Leo falls asleep right away, but an hour later, I’m still up, even though I’m tired.
It’s like my brain doesn’t want to sleep when it means I’ll miss out on some of the little time I have left with him—and isn’t that a silly thought?
He’s just a man who helped me get over my engagement. The man who showed me what good sex could be like, both in and out of bed. Who exposed my breasts to complete strangers and made me come in front of an audience.
He’s not the love of my life, even if I brought him on a rather romantic trip.
When I think of not seeing him again, every part of me aches. That pain is just proof that when we return to Toronto, I need to stop hanging out with him before I get even more attached. It’s what is best for me, and I haven’t always done what’s best for myself in the past, but I need to focus on that now as I rebuild my life. I’ve learned things from my time with him, but I have to move on.
I run my hand over his back, as gently as I can so I don’t disturb him, and try not to cry.
On our last morning together, I wake up early, even though I didn’t fall asleep until three. As the sun begins to brighten the room, I study Leo’s sleeping form. He’s on his side, turned toward me, and when he opens his eyes, he smiles.
I roll him onto his back, throw my leg over his hips, and kiss him. We don’t speak as I rub myself against him, as he slides down my body and licks me until I whisper his name. We don’t speak as I roll on the condom and I lower myself onto his cock for the very last time. We simply look at each other, and when that becomes too much, I close my eyes and just let myself enjoy how he takes such pleasure in my body and gives pleasure back to me in return.
When I’m ready to start dating again, I know exactly what I want.
He pulls out of me, presses a kiss to my forehead, and heads to the washroom…and I feel emptier than I’ve ever felt in my life. A single tear slides down my cheek.
I wipe it away before he returns.
At breakfast, we see the other couple at a table across the room. The woman winks at me, and I smile back before ducking my head. It’s weird to see them in the light of the morning, weird to be confronted with evidence that it actually happened and wasn’t just a dream.
Despite my slight embarrassment, I don’t regret it. I don’t regret him.
But I have to move on.
I’ve always been good at pretending. I can do it again.
Chapter 27
Leo
According to Google Maps, it’ll take about four and a half hours to drive back. Add a few stops—coffee, gas, lunch—and I figure it’ll be at least six hours. We’ll arrive at my parents’ house on the early side of rush hour, if we’re lucky.
Yvonne falls asleep as soon as we get on the I-90, which is a relief. I can’t ask her anything serious if she’s unconscious, and I’m not as hopeful as I was on Monday night. There were moments yesterday when something seemed off, and she tried to paper it over, even though she usually doesn’t try to do that with me. But she did hold my hand, and after a hot night together, we had sex again this morning.
She awakens groggily as I’m getting coffee at a Tim Hortons—I didn’t know there were any Tim Hortons in the US until this trip. I ask if she wants anything, and she shakes her head before closing her eyes, not opening them until we go through customs. She’s conscious only briefly before she shuts her eyes again.
I wonder if she’s actually sleeping. Maybe she’s avoiding me?
