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“You - erm -” She smiles a little as my fingers brush over her cheeks and the elevator slides to a stop on my floor. “You’ve imagined this then?”
My laughter rumbles within my chest and I take her hand, guiding her out of the elevator and towards my door.
“You are completely oblivious, aren’t you?”
“Oblivious to what?” She does that thing she always does, ducking her head slightly and twisting that ring of hers with her thumb, as she watches me fish my keys out of my jacket and push the door open.
I shake my head and then my hands are on her waist again and I am pulling her to me. I lean in slowly, my eyes burning into hers as I hesitate. She pushes up on her tiptoes, her hand reaching around my neck, holding me gently, and presses her lips against mine.
I whisper against her. “You’re completely oblivious to the fact that I’ve been thinking about this for years, Mikaela.”
Mikaela
I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. It wasn’t even close.
Ben watches me silently as I step forwards, my heels now kicked off by the front door and my fingers trailing over the oak unit that stands in the entryway to his home. My eyes dance over the art framed on the walls, mixed between photos of himself and Jamie, of his mother and father on their wedding day, of friends I have never seen him with and smiles that tell a hundred stories. I pause in front of one photograph and something thick lodges itself in my throat. I’m fourteen and it’s the very first day of high school. Jamie and Ben are standing on either side of me, their arms folded and fake scowls on their faces. I remember Jamie moaning to Mom that seniors don’t do first day pictures. Ben had ruffled my hair as soon as the photo was taken and then told me to stay away from the football team.“They’re gonna love you, Little Mik. And if one of them touches you, J and I will have to beat their asses. So keep your distance,”he’d warned. And then he’d kicked the quarterback’s ass six months later when he and Jamie found me crying in a science lab. I smile at the memory as I move slowly, dedicating each detail of this place to my mind, and step into the wide open living space.
The far wall is almost entirely glass with an uninterrupted view of the East River. It’s modern and sleek and completely out of place in this room. The cream couch takes up most of the space and it’s drowning in large cushions; none of which match. Nothing has a pattern, they’re simply scattered across for comfort. Surrounding his TV are shelves of books, some with spines cracked from repeated use, others so beautifully new it would pain me to hear them break. I don’t know why this detail has me so emotional and so shocked.
Not everyone wants to be surrounded by people who compete with flashy cars and homes that feel like museums, I had spat at him once. This doesn’t feel like a museum though.
I stand still in the centre of the room, a soft smile lifting my cheeks and a calmness enveloping me where I thought alienation would take hold. This is somewhere I could feel safe and welcome. This is beautiful.
“I was wrong.” I whisper more to myself than to him, but he’s standing behind me, his hands in his pockets and nerves in his eyes as I turn to him. “I didn’t expect this.”
Ben
“Well?” I’m unsure why her surveying my home makes me so nervous. I’m unsure why I’m now looking around and noticing that the books are askew and not organised in genre or size or color, or that there is a blanket strewn over the arm of the couch rather than folded neatly and put away. I feel my throat tighten as she gazes up at me.
“It’s so…”
“Basic?” I laugh awkwardly.
“I was going to say cozy.” Mikaela smiles widely as she turns back to the wall of literature staring at her, and she grins as she runs her eyes over the titles there. Watching her here, my chest squeezes.
It hits me how cold this place seems to me most days. The kind of cold that is only lifting now she’s standing barefoot in the middle of my living room. I wrap my arms around her waist and press my lips into her shoulder before she turns back to me.
“Hi.” She brushes her fingers against my cheek.
“Hi.” I grin.
“So did you bring me here to show off your book collection, or did you -”
She’s silenced by my lips crashing into hers and I lift her in my arms. Without breaking contact between us, I sweep an arm under her legs and move swiftly through the hallway. She laughs against my kisses and her hands hold the back of my neck as she pulls herself impossibly close to me and I push the last door open with my foot.
Mikaela
I have no time to think as he places me on my feet before him, spinning me to face away as his fingers make quick work of my zip. I have no time to worry, or panic, or question what we’re doing as my dress pools at my feet and his fingers trail down my sides, dancing over the lace of my lingerie. He presses kisses into my shoulder, my neck, my jaw. His hand presses against my stomach, pulling me close to him, and warmth spreads through me with every touch. And then he isn’t there. His fingers are gone, his lips are removed, the press of him against me is missing.
Ben
She almost cries out as she turns to me, her eyes betraying how needy she is for more, and I appraise her with what I know are wild eyes.
The lace that hugs against her is delicate and thin. The vines and flowers that crawl over her stomach and across her breasts leave a trail I want to follow with my tongue. I devour the way her breasts heave with each heavy inhale and how she steps towards me confidently. This isn’t some timid and shy girl who hid from attention under last season’s clothing and quiet observation. It isn’t even the Mikaela I’ve seen for weeks in secret. This is the Mikaela I have thought of only when dreaming; sensual and dripping with confidence. This is the Mikaela I don’t deserve.
She isextraordinary.
I hold a finger up, stopping her in her tracks as I look at her. I want to appreciate this; the sight of her before me in nothing but lace, wanting me.
