Bound Hearts (13 page)

At home, her bed looked like it had gone thirteen rounds with a tornado and lost. Sleep eluded her for the better part of the night. When she did catch a few minutes, David was all she dreamt about, as dark and angry as the most powerful thunderstorm she’d ever witnessed. His anger stalked her in her dreams, hurting her, confusing her, and wounding her. The ringing of her alarm brought no relief as the theatrics of the prior night played continuously in her head like a bad movie that refused to stop. Going through the motions of showering, making her coffee, applying her makeup, and packing her lunch, his words kept punching at her. Shaming her and wishing she could take the entire night back. Have a do over card she could play that David would have to accept. And say all the right things. The phrases she should have uttered last night, not the harsh opinion that poured out of her when she least expected it and he least deserved it.

“I have to talk to you,” she said as she arrived at Mary’s desk, her piles similarly organized by class just like Calleigh’s were.

“Good talk, bad talk, or simply talk?” Mary inquired.

“All of the above,” she responded, sipping on her morning latte while not tasting a single drop.

“You don’t look good, Calleigh. Is everything okay? Does this have to do with Lauren?”

“I’m not sure. Everything’s not okay and no, what I need to talk to you about doesn’t have anything to do with Lauren. For once.”

“Does happy hour at Por Que No after class today work?” Mary asked.

“Uhhh, sorry, after school won’t work,” Calleigh apologized. “I actually promised I’d meet Lauren for dinner tonight. How about tomorrow? Breakfast? Lunch?”

“Lunch sounds good,” Mary said, beginning to tidy up her desk as she and Calleigh settled on Besaw’s at noon for the next day.

The Northwest 23
rd
eatery on the corner of Savier and Twenty-Third Avenue was bustling when Mary and Calleigh strolled in the following day. Every bar stool was occupied, every table seated to capacity in the quaint restaurant. A long bar dominated the front room as waiters and waitresses deftly maneuvered through spaces tighter than parking spots in Manhattan. Luckily, since they were a simple two-top, they only had to wait ten minutes before being seated.

“What’s up?” Mary prompted as soon as they were seated.

“Oh my gosh. I don’t know where to start,” she said as her nails danced on the tabletop, a habit she believed to have left behind with her college and certification exams. Picking up her water glass, she drained it and immediately wished for more, not for any thirst, but to give her something to do. Something to focus on other than the reason she’d suggested this meeting.

“The beginning’s usually a good a place as any. But before we reach the details, can you give me one minor hint as to what or who this is about?”

She tried to smile at her, but it felt clouded by her conflicting emotions.

“You going to make me guess?” Mary teased.

“You can guess if you want to,” Calleigh responded.

“Well, it can’t have anything to do with Lauren because she generally drives you crazy,” Mary said.

“Nope. Not Mommy Dearest.”

“As much as you enjoy your job and your students, I’d know if there was anything to do with their latest test results. And even then, I’m not sure you would have called a special weekend lunch-time session to discuss.”

“Nope. Not about my classes. Not about my students.”

“That leaves men. You got a new man in your life I don’t know about?”

“You know about him,” she confirmed, drinking her quickly refilled water glass.

“Please tell me this doesn’t have anything to do with David Shalvington,” Mary finally said.

“Why would you say something like that?” she asked, her throat swallowing against the lump freshly wedged in there.

“Calleigh,” Mary reached across the table to grab her hand. “So, this is all about him,” Mary commented, softening her tone.

“Maybe.”

“Calleigh. Don’t hide from me.”

“Well now I don’t want to tell you anything because you’re clearly biased against him.”

“Of course I’m not his biggest fan. Last I remember, he hurt you. A lot. For no apparent reason.”

“Yeah, except back then you tried to defend him and thought there had to be some explanation for his behavior.”

“Is there?”

“Is there what?”

“Is there an explanation for how he hurt you when you asked him out?” Mary challenged. “How rude he was to you?”

She expelled a long sigh. Ever since her initial night with David, she’d dreamed about sharing all of the important details with her best friend. The first kiss. The first important words they’d exchanged. The excitement. Then, after her thoughtless comments to him the other night, she’d desperately wanted Mary’s counsel…which meant disclosing certain details about David. Intimate, private details about a man that was effectively, Mary’s boyfriend’s boss. That conversation required the negotiation skills of a seasoned pro, which she lacked on her best days, not on a day when she was as glum as she could remember being in a very long time.

She forcibly extracted her hand from Mary’s grip and crossed her arms across her chest. “Never mind. I should have known this was a bad idea.”

Mary’s lips slowly separated. “That’s not fair.”

“You’re not being fair,” she argued, lashing out at the only object available to receive her wrath. Wrath at herself. Wrath at the situation.

“Let’s start over, ok?” Mary suggested, her eyes pleading.

“Will you promise to withhold your judgment?” she asked.

“I’ll do my best. I’m Irish so it’s not the easiest feat for me to accomplish, but for you my dear, I’ll work on it,” Mary promised with a wink.

The sandwiches they’d ordered arrived and they both tucked into their respective plates with gusto. After a few bites, Mary said, “Hit me.”

Calleigh looked up, contemplating where and how to start. She’d never actually considered Mary wouldn’t be on her side, on
their
side so she had to rearrange what she’d originally planned to discuss. Now, not only did she have to discuss David and how everything evolved with their relationship.

And how terribly it had ended the other night.

“After one of our soccer games, I decided to meet up with everyone afterwards. I arrived late and realized David was also there. It was one of the smaller groups I’ve been to - I think there were only eight of us there in total.” She paused to wash her bites of ham and cheese down with some water before resuming. “I ignored him all during dinner because you know, at that point, I was completely convinced he was a grade A asshole.”

“And he’s not?” Mary raised her right eyebrow, her skepticism apparent.

“No, he is not an asshole. At least he hasn’t been with me since then. But we’re jumping ahead. Let me finish. After dinner, I left the restaurant and began walking home when I heard him call my name. I was like, yeah, whatever, and kept walking. He eventually caught up to me, we argued a little bit back and forth, and then he kissed me!” She raised her voice at the end, prompting their surrounding patrons to glance at the table and smile.

Mary’s eyebrows shot up to her dark hairline. “And?”

“Okay, nothing more happened after the kiss. At least, not that night.”

“And the kiss was….”

“The kiss was spectacular. Outstanding. Incredible. Deep and lush, just this side of rough. It was, in fact, perfect.”

Remembering it all over again raised goose bumps all over her arms.

“It sounds like quite a kiss,” Mary allowed.

“Yes it was. It was one of the best kisses I’ve ever had in my entire life. Okay, he then asked me over to his house for dinner, a surprisingly nice house, a little bungalow on the east side, by the way. Dinner was great. When we were about to continue what we’d started on the sidewalk, we got into a minor fight.”

“About what?”

Oh, shit
. She was not going to go there with Mary and expose David for his prior comments about her relationship with Michael. She was already predisposed to dislike him and telling her what he’d said, when he’d surely been mistaken and didn’t know the first thing about Michael, Mary, or their relationship, would only send this conversation careening back off the rails.
Not going there
, she thought.

“Nothing,” she murmured, averting her eyes and taking a long drink of her water before continuing. “It’s not important. It was nothing. Just a minor misunderstanding. Poor communication more than anything. Anyway, I returned home again and thought okay, clearly we were never meant to be. But then, the next night he showed up at my house.” She waited for Mary to respond in some way, but Mary’s direct gaze didn’t give anything away.

Continuing, she said, “And his arrival couldn’t have been at a worst time. I’d come directly home from a soccer game and hadn’t jumped into the shower. Anyway, he’s there with this paper bag. In it, he brought ice cream.”

“I guess he doesn’t know how much you deprive yourself of sugar, does he?” Mary commented.

“No. Not at all.”

After she filled in the rest of the details staying just short of the fiasco of the prior night, the
real
reason she wanted to have this discussion, Mary said, “You know, I think this is the first time I’ve ever witnessed you eat something without first commenting on its caloric and fat content. It suits you. It’s good. It’s normal.

“Alright, so, the sex is fabulous, but what is David
like
?
”
Mary asked.

“He’s…. smart. And a good cook. He made this amazing shrimp dish the night I went to his house for dinner.”

“Based on the way you described him, I wouldn’t have taken him for a cook,” Mary replied.

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t have taken him for a lot of things,” she remarked, looking down at her plate with nary a breadcrumb in sight. Despite her general upset, it hadn’t impacted her appetite.

Mary tilted her head to the side and studied her.

“What does that mean?” Mary asked.

Her flush was fast and furious, spreading up from her chest to bloom all across her throat and neck. Even though this was her very best friend and no one knew her better or was closer, trepidation still whispered through her brain.

What if Mary thinks this whole thing is bizarre?

Or David is a sexual weirdo?

Or thinks I’m some kind of weirdo?

“Err, nothing,” she quickly responded, draining her entire full glass of water in one single sip. She now regretted forsaking the glass of wine the waitress had tried to push on both of them when they’d first sat down.

“Calleigh. Talk to me,” Mary urged, tilting her head in the universal sign of willingness to listen.

In halting terms, quiet tones, and averted eyes, Calleigh told her what being in bed with David was like. His demands and requirements.

Even the words he liked to use.

And the words he demanded she utter.

“So?” she asked Mary after she’d finished. Despite her legion of boyfriends and dating experience, she was still unsure of herself, her needs, her wants, her desires, and sought reassurance.

“So, what?” Mary chuckled at her best friend, her smile as open and honest as a first-grader entering kindergarten. “David’s into some things you haven’t tried before. If the look on your face yesterday and today is any indication, I’d say whatever you two are doing is working fine for you. Am I wrong?”

“No, but it’s kind of weird, isn’t it?”

“Calleigh, David hasn’t done anything you haven’t wanted, right?”

“No.”

She’d loved every single one of his licks of her body. Every place his lips touched. Every word he whispered in her ear. Every stroke of her hips.

“And you’re a consenting adult, right?”

“Last time I checked my driver’s license, yes.”

“What’s the problem? Honestly, a lot of people are into alternative avenues in sexuality. If you’re enjoying it and on board, who cares?”

She shrugged. “But what does it say about me as a woman if I let him dominate me the way he does?”

“It doesn’t say anything other than the fact it excites the both of you,” Mary reassured her. “It doesn’t mean you’re not smart, you’re not strong, or you’re not independent. You’re all those things. And besides? The way people behave in the bedroom has no impact on how they conduct the rest of their lives. I mean, it’s private. A lot of people are into a lot of different things. I think at the end of the day, the only thing that really matters is that both people consent to what’s happening and enjoy themselves. If you aren’t enjoying yourself, what’s the point of having sex at all?”

“Really?” She needed this. Needed to hear from the woman who she respected most that she wasn’t a freak, wasn’t weak, and what she was doing with David was alright.

“Really. I mean, whatever goes on between you and David is between you and David. No one else. It’s no one else’s business. Besides,” Mary wiggled her eyebrows, “I think it sounds kind of sexy.”

“You do?” While she hadn’t considered she’d ever be down with the stuff, she’d certainly never considered that prim and proper Mary Richardson would entertain the same thoughts.

Mary nodded her head. “I do. I’ve never had BDSM fantasies, but there’s something exciting about the idea of giving up control to your man and letting him control the action, where all you have to do is respond. I mean, it’s pretty exciting, right?”

“I take it Michael hasn’t asked to tie you up then?” she teased, grateful the conversation, despite its rocky beginning, had turned out the way it had. Mary’s quiet acceptance and reassurance was the balm for the worry that had been plaguing her since she’d first been with David.

Mary’s face tightened up for a brief second before she responded. “Uh, no. No he hasn’t. If he wanted to, though, I’d do it. By the way, it’s kind of interesting to me that Michael’s never mentioned him, but he doesn’t talk about management or anything that doesn’t involve his teammates or his coaches.”

“Oh, please don’t mention what I told you about David’s sex life. I would never want him to know that and he’d kill me if he thought I inadvertently spilled the beans.”