Crave (17 page)
Authors: Violet Vaughn
Day two of avoiding Blaine and way too many days of avoiding Gretchen, I resist the urge to curl up on the couch and just cry. I need to deal. I call Gretchen.
In a fake answering-machine voice Gretchen answers my call “This number is no longer in service. The owner’s best friend left her hanging, so she died from a broken heart. Please don’t leave a message. Save it for hell.” She chortles at herself. “Because the owner will save her a seat.”
I snort. “Hi, Gretch.”
“What’s going on, girlfriend?”
I tear up. “My life sucks. I’m an idiot. I want to marry one man and sleep with another.”
“Wait, what? Who do you want to screw?”
I sigh. And close my eyes for the hit that’s coming. “Jason.”
“Fuck.”
“Yup, that’s what I want to do.” I giggle at my Gretchen joke.
She snorts. “That was good.”
“I know.” Tears well up in my eyes. Where the hell is that tissue box?
“So, tell me again, why the hell aren’t you with Jason?”
The tears fall now. “Oh, Gretchen. I wish I could flip a switch in him to make him want a family.”
“Not everyone has children. It’s not the end of the world. There are so many ways to have kids in your life. They don’t have to be yours.”
“They do for me.”
“And you think you can have them with a man who can’t sleep with you?”
“That’s not true!” I throw a pillow across the room. “It’s just…” I sigh and speak through clenched teeth. “We’re working on it.”
“At the risk of not hearing from you for another month, you have too many rules in place. You’re a control freak, and life doesn’t bend because you command it to. My advice is to listen to your heart because your head is fucked up.”
There’s silence for a minute, and then Gretchen says, “Look, I know you’re pissed at me right now. It’s okay. I think you need to be. Take a long look at why.” Then she adds. “I’ll call you in a few days, and you will answer. I promise I won’t be a bitch. Okay?”
I cut the conversation short. “Okay. Bye.”
She’s right. I’m pissed off. She has no idea how amazing Blaine is. We’ll fix this. In a few years, I’ll wonder why I let this be such a big deal. She’ll see.
Minutes after I hang up with Gretchen, my phone vibrates. It’s a text from Megan.
“Chick flick day?”
“Sure. What’s up?”
It’s dreary weather, and while I could shoot interiors, I can blow off work for Megan.
“Nick and I had a fight. I need to get out of here for a while.”
“Come over any time. Want me to get anything?”
“No. I’ll bring stuff. Thanks. Got tissues?”
I smile at that one.
“Cases :)”
Still mad at Gretchen, I enter cleaning mode. I race around picking up the spent tissues and do a quick vacuum. The bathroom gets scrubbed. Standing in the kitchen, I ponder a deep clean of the fridge when I hear Megan in the driveway. Instead, I gather popcorn and chocolate truffles and set them on the counter. I think this might be just what I need, too.
With a quick knock, Megan walks in. “Your place is always so clean. I love it. I don’t suppose you’d give Nick a lesson? He’s such a slob.”
“What happened?”
Megan plunks down on the sofa with her bags. Tears brim in her eyes. I grab a box of tissues and hand it to her.
“Oh Casey, I moved in with a pig. He leaves his clothes wherever he took them off. It’s crazy; if I didn’t pick them up, they would stay there for days. For all I know, he would just put them back on again instead of doing laundry. And the kitchen. The man doesn’t know how to load a dishwasher. No, it’s worse than that. The dishes don’t even make it to the sink. I swear he thinks moving in with me was like getting a housekeeper. Don’t even get me started on how gross the bathroom is. What was I thinking?”
I take the bags from her and move to the kitchen to empty them. “Did you try to talk to him about it?”
“I have. I’ve asked him nicely to pick things up, but it doesn’t work. So this morning I lost it. He told me I was a nag.” She cries harder. “And if he’d wanted a mother, he would have moved home.”
I sit next to her and pull her into my arms. “Megan.” She sobs on my shoulder. When she’s done, I wipe hair out of her face “You okay?”
“Yeah. Sorry about that.”
“Don’t be sorry. I get it. Want a truffle?”
Her eyes light up. “Yes.”
I go to the kitchen and I empty the bags. Cookies, chips, and Diet Coke go on the counter. I grab two truffles and the DVD. “
Magic Mike
? This looks a little like porn, Megan.” I chuckle.
“It’s not porn. It’s eye candy. Male strippers. You haven’t seen it? Channing Tatum is delicious.” She smiles.
“Ah, I do like candy.” I flash a wicked smile at her.
“You put it in and I’ll organize the snacks.”
She returns with the cookies on a plate, the chips in a bowl, side plates, and two glasses of Diet Coke over ice. The movie cued up, and I hit play.
Taking a cookie she says, “The acting is awful. We’re watching it for the dancing. And Channing’s body.” She snickers.
I sit back prepared to lose myself in silliness.
A few minutes into the movie, I hear my phone vibrate on the kitchen counter. I guess it’s Blaine, so I don’t go look. I’m not ready to deal with him yet.
During a scene full of bad acting instead of skin, I get up for ice cream. With two coffee mugs on the counter, I dig hard to get the ice cream out. That freezer is too cold; this stuff is hard as a rock.
“Casey? Did you know Blaine was coming over?”
“No. Is he here?” Crap.
“He just pulled in.” The sound of the movie stops.
I walk back to the living room, and Megan is clearing the table. “Don’t do that. I’ll tell him to go.”
“Ah, I don’t think so. He has flowers.” She carries the food into the kitchen.
Flowers? What’s that about? Did someone tell him about me dancing with Jason? Damn it. I see the movie play on the TV as I walk to the door. Megan must have muted it.
Before he can knock, I open the door. He pushes the flowers out toward me. I take them and give him a questioning look. “These are lovely. What’s the occasion?” Pale peach roses, I can’t help but be intoxicated by the smell.
He leans in for a quick kiss. Whispering, he says, “It seems like you’re mad at me. I’m apologizing in advance.” Oh, boy.
“Um. Let me put these in water.”
Back in the kitchen, Megan mouths, “What?”
I shake my head and shrug my shoulders. I give her hug. “Thanks for cleaning up. You’re good at it.” A big grin is on my face.
She smiles at me. “Thanks. Keep the movie for a while. Maybe it’ll be inspiration.” She turns to leave.
I pick up my phone and read Blaine’s text.
“Miss you. Are you avoiding me?”
Ah, so he noticed. Damn.
I hop on the counter and search the top shelves of Clara’s cabinet, hoping to find a vase. I pull down a rectangular one with little glass pebbles in the bottom. Tim must have brought her flowers often. Cold water drowns the pebbles. They’re iridescent, and the grayness of the day makes them reflect the shades of an ocean storm. Placing the roses in the vase, I take care in arranging them. I’m stalling. With a deep sniff of the flowers I return to the living room and place them on the coffee table.
Blaine stands up and without a word pulls me close and kisses me. It’s not the tender kiss I’m used to. It’s deep and passionate. At least I think it is. I push my hips closer and notice he’s hard. My stomach flutters. He pulls me with him as he sits down on the couch. I straddle him and he says, “Kiss my neck.” I lower my head and lick the salty musk of him. Hands move under my shirt and up my back. My skin tingles in response. I don’t know where this is coming from, but I will it to keep going. Making my way back to his lips, he pushes me aside and starts to kiss my shoulder. I throw my head back and lift up so he can go lower. He responds by rising to stay on top of my shoulder. Okay, kind of weird. But heck, we seem to do weird. I grind into his hardness. It’s still there. I think it might be time to move this to the bedroom. Standing up, I pull him with me. There is no mistaking the lust in his eyes.
Once in the bedroom, I direct him to the bed and push him down so he lies on his back. I crawl onto him and start to kiss his neck. My hands lift his shirt. I feel his gentle fingers under my top and on my back. He flips me over and straddles me. He makes quick work of removing his shirt. Channing’s got nothing on Blaine. I reach up and grab the waistband of his jeans. I unbutton them and start on the zipper. He helps me. Oh, my word, this is really happening. My hands reach to pull his jeans down. His hands follow mine but pull on the boxers too. Blaine’s head is back and his eyes are closed. Wow, this is good for him.
While he stands to remove his pants, I whip my shirt off and then my bra. I waste no time. God, he’s beautiful. I lay back down as he returns to his knees. He leans over me and kisses my neck, and a hand reaches for my breast, rubbing me the way I showed him. Waves of pleasure storm through my body. His mouth repeats the action. I reach up to touch his maleness and stroke, but he isn’t very hard. I squeeze with more pressure. Crap. Here we go again. It doesn’t work. It’s like I’m wiping it away. I stop.
He pulls himself away and sits back on the bed and says, “Fuck.” He has his head in his hands, and I can’t see his face. I’m not sure what to do. I sit up and say nothing. He gets up, grabs his pants, and pounds out without a word.
Damn it. I hear water run in the bathroom sink and get dressed. My resigned steps lead me to the living room. An almost naked Channing dances. I watch for a second, and then I go cold. My stomach clenches. My hand goes to my mouth and I whisper, “Oh, my God.” I turn and see Blaine come toward me. He has fear in his eyes.
“Casey. It’s not what you think.” He reaches for me. I stumble back.
“No. Please don’t touch me. I…” I shake my head. Where have I heard that before? Of course it’s what I think. Holy shit. He really is gay.
Blaine takes the remote and forces the TV to stop. He looks into my eyes, and I see absolute fear. Oh God, this poor man. I reach out toward him. “Blaine?” He grabs my hand like a man drowning. He latches onto me and pulls me down as he crumbles to the floor.
After what seems like an eternity, he speaks. “I don’t want to be gay. I want to be a normal man. I’ve been trying forever, but I can’t seem to make it work. I don’t know what to do.” There’s desperation in his voice.
My heart aches for him. “Blaine, I don’t think you get to make it happen.” I reach up and cup his face in my hand. “You deserve to love someone you want to be with physically. Someone whose body turns you on with a touch, who makes your skin tingle, your insides melt. Someone who makes you feel the things I’ve felt with you. Don’t you want that?”
“It’s not right.”
My heart is breaking. “You’re talking to the wrong person. I don’t see being gay as wrong or unnatural. It just is.”
I’m at a loss here. I suppose I should be pissed. But right now all I can think of is how to ease his pain.
“Yeah, maybe.” He stands up.
I don’t believe him. “You go to the counselor tomorrow, right?”
“Yes.”
“Talk to him. Please?” I wrap my arms around his waist and put my face on his chest.
He seems defeated. “Okay. I’m going to go.”
All of a sudden I’m afraid. “Wait. I grab his hand as he walks toward the door. He turns back to me. “I love you. And, I will still love you tomorrow.”
He nods and walks out.
I sink into the couch. I remember so many little things, and it all starts to make sense. Holy crap. It was right there, and I let myself deny it, right along with Blaine.
My body is about to collapse. I decided on an eighteen-mile run today. I look down at the little blue dot on my phone. Google maps keeps me from getting lost. I needed this to process what happened yesterday. Next to skiing, running is my therapy. My legs are like Jell-O. I stop running and walk. A quarter of a mile from home, I cool down, but my thoughts don’t. I can’t fathom what it must be like to spend your life trying to change your sexual preference.
It occurs to me that he must have been in love with Tim and that’s why he moved here. How painful it must be to watch the man you’re in love with be married to someone else, to have children and the life you want. Blaine wanted it so bad and was trying to make it happen the only way he knew how. I was more than willing to help him with that lie. Only I didn’t know it. All this time we were chasing after our common dream, forgetting life and relationships don’t have boilerplate blueprints. We both sacrificed something very important—intimacy.
I think about the house I shot that day with Sandy. Our lie sure did crash down around us. A sudden gust of wind makes me shiver. I wrap my arms around myself and think about how awful it could have been. What if Blaine had managed to find a way to keep a fantasy in his head long enough? What if we had gotten married and had children?
My legs are spent. I’ll be sore tomorrow. My phone vibrates. I texted Blaine earlier and asked him to just let me know he’s okay. I look at my phone.
“Told counselor. I’m okay. I’ll text tomorrow”
Relief floods my body as I approach my door. I’m exhausted. I think sleep will be easy tonight.
***
“Casey! What’s going on, chica?”
It’s so good to hear Gretchen’s voice. “Boy, have I got news for you.”
“Oh, goodie. Do tell.”
“Blaine is gay.”
There is a long silence and then in an almost whisper. “Holy shit.”
“Yeah. He’s been trying this whole time to be straight. He wants a normal life with a wife and kids that bad.” I pace the living room.
“Wow. Just wow. How are you handling it?”
“In the beginning he was so upset that I was focused on making sure he was okay. Now I’m questioning why I didn’t see it.” There’s silence. “Okay, you can say it. I saw what I wanted to see.”
“No, I’m just glad your eyes were opened before you made big decisions.” With concern in her voice, Gretchen asks, “What do people think? Are they saying things to you?”
“Nobody knows but me. I’m not sure how that will play out, but it’s not my secret to share. You’re the only person I plan to tell.” I hop up on the kitchen counter and look out over the mountains through the kitchen window. “While it explains so much about our relationship, I’m blown away that someone would do something so drastic.”
“Are you? You sure work hard to get what you want. I’m surprised what Blaine did shocked you. You aren’t that different.”
“What do you mean?”
“Have you figured out why you didn’t want to see it? Because I think that’s your answer.”
Crap. Did I really not want to see it because I was so focused on getting what I wanted?
Gretchen breaks the silence. “Just think about it”
I think about it, but it’s time to change the subject. “Let me live vicariously through you now. How’s that man of yours?”
We catch up on our lives. But in the back of mind, I reel from the idea that I was willing to live the lie too.
