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The sun has set and the tiny white Christmas tree lights Aunt Peg has strung around her trailer cast a romantic glow. Under the table, Reagan held my hand throughout dinner. When I asked him about his unexpected arrival, he only said, “I couldn’t take anymore.”
“Coffee, anyone?” I can hear Peg call out from the kitchen, where she’s arranging coffee cups on a tray.
“None for us, thank you,” I answer.
“Decaf for me, doll,” Wheels adds.
When she returns with the tray, she says, “If Jennifer could see you now. She’d be so proud of you, Alice.”
The mention of my mother stiffens my posture. “Alice looks just like her mother, Reagan. Her birth mother,” she corrects herself. “She was such a beauty. Billy and I grew up next door to her so I knew her all my life.”
“Billy is my dad,” I whisper and Rea squeezes my hand, sensing my discomfort.
“If I recall correctly, they were maybe ten and twelve when they became inseparable. Then of course in high school they became sweethearts. But when your grandmother died, well…after that, Billy was always over there, helping out.”
My palms are getting clammy. I can feel Rea’s attention on me, and the last thing I want is his pity, one of the many reasons why I never discuss this with him.
“…but he seems happy now with Nancy,” I hear Peg say, having tuned her out for a moment.
“Yes, they’re very happy.” In the silent pause, I glance at the cable box. “It’s getting late. We should get going.”
After a lengthy goodbye, and many promises made to visit soon, we thank my aunt for the fantastic meal and head back to Reagan’s place. Dallas is in Houston visiting his mother––no, I’m not kidding. And the Petermans are home with their parents.
“I have something for you,” he says as I’m pushing my skirt off my hips. It stops me short, takes me by surprise. We had agreed no presents because I couldn’t afford anything.
“We agreed no presents,” I remind him.
He throws his dress shirt in the hamper and the sight of his bare chest and the V descending into his unbuttoned and unzipped pants almost has me forgetting why we agreed.
“You agreed,” the sneak claims. “I just stayed silent.” Naked, he closes the distance between us and wraps me in his arms. If the goal was to distract me, then he succeeded brilliantly. The sight of his beautiful body never gets old.
He pulls a small gift wrapped box out of the dresser drawer and hands it to me.
“That’s not fair,” I murmur while I unwrap it slowly to reveal a brand new iPhone X.
“Merry Xmas, babe.”
“I didn’t get you anything. I feel terrible.”
He kisses me, relentlessly hard, until I’m forced to look up into his face. I watch his throat work, his lashes lower, and his forehead pucker in deep thought.
“I’ve got everything I need right here.”
New semester, new class with Marshall. This one called Documentary Film and Video Production. Same group of students. I take my usual seat, and smile when I spot Morgan coming up the aisle to take the one next to me.
Who’s conspicuously sitting three rows down and over and flirting with a new girl? That’s right, Shady Simon.
He notices me watching him and his fake smile drops faster than an R. Kelly album off the Billboard charts.
Marshall e-mailed me to meet her in her office after class. The email was vague and frankly does not bode well for my reel getting submitted for the internship. As bummed as I am about it, I’ve had time to prepare for the worst. And between finals, the holidays, and basking in the afterglow of epic sex, I can’t seem to muster the energy to be upset about it.
“What happened with you guys?” Morgan whispers as Marshall begins her lecture.
“He turned out to be a major douche is what happened. All he talked about was himself and then he asked for head at the end of the date.”
Morgan makes a gagging gesture and I snicker.
“I always thought he was a little shady,” she says out of the side of her mouth.
Eye roll. Am I the only one that didn’t see this? “I wish you would have told me and saved me the trouble.”
“You wouldn’t have listened.”
And then I realize…she’s right.
As soon as class ends I head to Marshall’s office. A few feet away, I hear the indisputable sound of two people arguing, the voices escaping through her cracked open door.
“It’s unethical. She’s banging one of the guys. That’s how she got access to them. It’s not fair to the rest of the people submitting…” Simon’s voice is sharp and combative.
I’m actually surprised he would speak that aggressively to Marshall.
“––and who knows what other special favors she’s gleaned from her relationships,” he continues.
Who the heck is he talking about?
