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“Inside me.” Her hips set a rapid pace and her pussy lips tightened on me.
“Here goes, babe. Aahh…” I spent my release inside her.
I stayed inside her for a few minutes and kissed her hair.
“I missed you, only you,” I heard the weariness in her voice. She was tired of fighting.
Her actions hurt me. I hated the old feelings that she had for that stupid Brennan. I hated her leaving for Costa Rica without telling me. I hated her ability to understand my need for space. I hated that she looked gorgeous and fine when I saw her at the bar.
Now, putting everything into perspective, hearing her tired and weary voice, I grasped the magnitude of how much I meant to her.
She was shy and was probably scared that I would turn her away. But she stood in front of me and my teammates with all her emotions up her sleeve.
She was scared of Brennan. But she faced her fear and met with him because of me. She defended me and had the charges against me dropped.
She was not a crier. But she cried for me many times now.
She was letting me go because she thought I needed a break from her so she could stop hurting me.
She said she missed me. Everything about me.
For a girl who planned everything in her life, who washed her hands as often as I scratched my groin, who carried a stain remover for ketchup stains – she just gave herself to me on a park bench and didn’t care.
This was her way of telling me how sorry she was and just how much she missed me.
She was amazing.
She was mine.
Chapter Nineteen
“We meet different types of people in our lives. What we gain from crossing our paths with theirs, that’s the ‘difference’.”
Sedona
We headed to Pier 39 after my last class. Zander was quiet during the 20 minute drive. I called it his ‘thinking while brooding’ mood.
He took out a thick, blue beach towel from the trunk of his car. He had gotten around to bringing towels after he accidentally sat on bird poop, during one of our dates. The bird poop was so hard to remove that I had to soak his jeans for an hour before putting it in the washer. After that, Zander stocked up on beach towels.
We were sitting in one of the benches overlooking the ocean, the blue towel draped across the bench, his head resting against my lap. He was tall; almost a third of leg was hanging in the air off the bench if he stretched to his full height.
After the drama with Brennan, I was relieved that we had managed to somehow put it behind us. There were moments, however, when he looked at me, somber. Almost sad.
He had been playing sad songs in the piano. Whenever we stayed over at his place, he found the time to play for me. Lately, the songs that he played were haunting, the kind of music that reached the recesses of a person’s soul.
I kneaded his shoulders lightly. His shoulders were relaxed, his breathing was even, and his eyes, from what I could see through his sunglasses were closed.
Was he sleeping? He must be tired.
I thought he drifted off to sleep while I was talking.
I heard his voice break the silence, “I miss her.”
“Who? Your mom?” I asked. His mom traveled with his dad everywhere.
His lips fell into a thin line, his jaw muscles hardened; he was struggling to say something.
“I miss Chrissy.” With his eyes closed, the silence dragged between us.
