Second Chances (17 page)

She bit her bottom lip as she continued standing in the shower, hot water beating down on her. She didn't trust herself to go back out there and sleep next to Reagan. Not unless she took care of herself first. Leaving her breasts, she slid her hands down to her smooth abdomen.  She could feel her hipbones slice into her palms as her hands traveled further south. What word had Reagan used to describe her hipbones?
Delicious.  
Yes. If she had had any doubts before, Reagan's speech only confirmed that she was attracted to her. Her fingers curled along the inside of a lightly muscled thigh, and the tops of her fingers just slightly brushed against shaved, smooth skin.

Her stomach clenched when her fingertips brushed along the outside of her clit.
 Her eyes fluttered shut and she tried to imagine how Reagan would touch her. Would her fingers feel light and delicate? Would she take her time to torment and tease? Or would she be wild and ravenous, consuming and burning hot like liquid fire?

Allison's hand had become Reagan's hand. She knew she should feel embarrassed or guilty or
something
about using Reagan as mental candy, but it seemed to be working. Like, really working. Her skin felt flushed, more so than just the effects of the steamy shower. Why couldn’t it be Reagan's fingers now stroking along her sensitive clit? Why couldn’t it be Reagan's hand now parting her pussy lips?

Allison bit her bottom lip to stifle the moan that stumbled up her throat when she pressed hard against her clit. She rubbed the sensitive nub around and around in tiny clockwise circles and a sharp wave of pleasure stabbed her insides. Her fingers drifted further and she could feel her arousal accumulating, a wetness different and distinct from the water that continued to fall from the showerhead. She subtly widened her stance and used her free hand to steady herself with the help of the shower wall. A quiet whimper escaped when she increased the pressure and dipped between her folds.
 

With hooded eyes she peered through the translucent shower curtain over to the door and focused on the doorknob
. "Shit,"
she silently lamented. She couldn't remember if she'd locked the bathroom door. Reagan could walk in at any moment and catch her touching herself. The thought momentarily sent her into a panic, and her wandering hands stopped wandering. But the more she let that thought and that image swim in her already lust-ridden head, the more turned on she became:
"Uhn, she could walk in on me."

The scene that now formed in her head resembled the beginning of a cheesy porno - not that she had ever watched one before.
"Need some help with that, Allison?"
Reagan would smile innocently as she peeked around the slightly opened bathroom door.
"Need an extra hand?"

Allison knew her thighs would quickly clamp together and her face would burn a million shades of red, embarrassed to have been caught. She'd try to cover her body as best as she could. But her body would be begging for Reagan to jump into the shower, clothes and all. Her body would demand that Reagan use her knee to part her thighs, just like she'd done on the dance floor at the frat party.

She would uselessly protest, vainly insisting that that wasn't what she wanted. But Reagan would take control, take the lead, and take her. The shower curtain would be thrown back, water spilling onto the bathroom floor, but she wouldn't care. With the weight of her knee behind her hand, Reagan would penetrate her with her fingers until Allison's eyeballs rolled back into her head.

As Allison slid her own digits inside her wet sex, she imaged they were Reagan's persistent fingers, filling her. Her body would finally surrender itself to Reagan and the tension that had been building between them. She bit down on her lower lip as the tightness in her stomach spread lower.

But she knew that her brain wouldn't allow it. Her brain and her body would be screaming different demands. After all, Allison Hoge didn't do those kinds of things.

+++++

Allison emerged from the bathroom in a billow of steam.  She’d dried her hair just enough so it wouldn’t drip all over her sleeping shirt, but it still fell in damp tendrils that framed her heart-shaped face. Her skin was free of make-up and the heat from the shower had flushed her skin, red cheeks and a slight blush that crawled down her pale neck.

“How do you do that?”
             

Allison
stopped and raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “Do what?”  She sat down on the bed, but maintained a respectable distance from Reagan.  Although she’d scrubbed her skin thoroughly, she still worried that she might be able to smell the sex on her.

“How are you always
so put-together?”

Allison’s steady gaze faltered momentarily as her eyes dip
ped to the duvet.  “Years and years of practice.”

“You make it look so flawless though,” Reagan complained.

Allison paused and wet her lips. “Have you ever considered that maybe I’m envious of
you
?”

“Me? That’s ridiculous.  I’m a mess.”

“I know you are.” Allison smiled softly. “And that’s what I envy.  You’re
allowed
to be a mess.”

“I’m
not sure if that’s a compliment,” Reagan countered with a scoff.  “And why aren’t you allowed to be a mess?”

The smile on Allison’s face dropped and she sighed. She picked at the mattress top. “What would people have said if I showed up to school looking like I’d just rolled out of bed?  What would our teachers have said if I didn’t have my homework completely
done?  How badly would I have disappointed my parents if I wasn’t living up to my potential?”

“It was high school
,” Reagan said, shaking her head. “No one’s supposed to have it all figured out.”

“Tell that to my 16-year-old-self,” Allison said stiffly. “She must have missed the memo.”

“Well, I guess we have a new goal for tonight,” Reagan remarked.

Allison didn’t look amused. “And what’s that?”

Reagan grinned mischievously. “To give your 16-year-old-self a second chance.”

“I don’t know if I like the sound of that.”

“Just trust me.
Are you hungry?”

“I guess so.”

Reagan grabbed a black folder off the bedside table and flipped through the binder until she found the local dining options. “What are you hungry for?” she asked as she scanned the pages.

“Whatever. 
I’m not picky.” Allison grinned broadly. “Or vegan.”

Reagan looked up and stuck out her tongue.  “It’s not that hard to find vegan options,” she defended.

“Maybe not in New York, but Providence is hardly the culinary capital of the world.”

“How about pizza?” Reagan proposed.

“What does a vegan pizza look like?  Flat bread and tomato sauce?”

“You should be a comic,” Reagan muttered.  “If I pay, will you call?”

Allison shook her head. “Why stop now?  Let’s just have my dad pay for it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Might as well.”

“What do you want to do while we wait?”

“I don’t know.” Allison had a few ideas.  They mostly involved Reagan being naked, so she kept those thoughts to herself.  “Watch TV, I guess.”

“Wait.
” Reagan bounced up from the bed.  “I have a better idea.”  She grabbed the in-room phone and pressed the button for the front desk.

+++++

“C1.”

“Miss.”

The vegan pizza arrived 20-minutes later.  Allison had been right – tomato sauce and pizza bread – but she didn’t make a point of complaining about it; not when Reagan looked so pleased that she was eating vegan food with her. “Pizza and board games, huh?  Is this what 16-year-olds do on the weekend?”

The board game selection at the hotel’s front desk had been meager.  The Monopoly game had no hotels or houses, the Game of Life was missing its cars, and who knew how many vowels were absent from Scrabble.  In the end they’d settled on Battleship.  There looked to be enough red and white pegs to play and only one of the submarines was missing.

“It’s what
I
did on the weekends,” Reagan defended.  “I know it’s probably not as fun for you as getting drunk and being felt up by boys.”

Allison raised an amused eyebrow.  “Is that really what you think I did in high school?”

“Well, maybe not you, but I’m sure some of your other friends, like Vanessa.”

“Vanessa’s
a bitch,” Allison bit off.  “I don’t think we were actually friends – more like frienemies waiting for the other person to make a mistake.”

“But Allison Hoge doesn’t make mistakes,” Reagan teased.

“Which is why I never fell from the top of the food chain,” Allison noted with a crisp nod.

“Were you really friends with any of them?
” Reagan tried carefully.  She didn’t know if this was a safe topic to talk about.  She was half-afraid digging up these memories would cause Allison to snap or revert to her former self.

Allison picked at the cheese-l
ess pizza.  “We hung out all the time,  but I don’t think I was ever really close to them.  Carly and Beth were probably the closest thing I had to a best friend because they lived next door, but it’s not like I ever shared my secrets with them.”

Reagan smirked.
“Allison Hoge doesn’t make mistakes, but she has secrets?”

A strange, almost hostile
, look passed over Allison’s features.  “We weren’t friends then, Reagan.  You didn’t know what I was going through.”

“You’re right,” Reagan nodded, trying hard not to feel defensive.  “We weren’t friends.  To me you were just the scary blonde who tormented me for no good reason.”

“At the time I’m sure I had good reasons that made sense to my borderline personality.”

Reagan sighed.
“I hate that I can’t tell if you’re joking about that.”

“It’s in the past,” Allison said, the irritation palpable. “
Let’s not ruin the weekend by digging up skeletons.”

Reagan looked sufficiently wounded.
“Okay.”

“I’m sorry.” Allison
reached for Reagan’s hand.  “I’m just not comfortable talking about those years.  Especially not with you.”  She stroked her thumb across the top of Reagan’s hand, feeling the fine bones beneath the pad of her thumb. “You may have forgiven me, but I can’t forgive myself for my behavior.  I had things I was working through, sure, but so did you—with your mom…” She trailed off, still uncomfortable with that story.  “But you never used that as an excuse to be cruel.”

Reagan’s eyes became unfocused. “No, but I did use it as an excuse to keep everyone but my dad at a distance,” she countered.

Allison chewed on her lower lip contemplatively. “Do you want to talk about it?  About her?”

Reagan swallowed hard.
“Not really.”

“This isn’t the slumber party you expected, huh?” Allison softly chuckled and shook her head.

“I’m having fun,” Reagan protested.  “Aren’t you?”

Allison squeezed Reagan’s hand. 
“Best day of my life.”

“Don’t tease me.”

“I’m not!” Allison’s voice pitched.
Oh, how I’d love to tease you
.
Damn it.  Where did
that
come from
? “I’m having a lot of fun,” she insisted, her tone returning to its usual raspy husk.

“I missed you this summer.”
Reagan dropped her eyes away from Allison’s intense gaze.  She could feel her cheeks burning from the admission.  “I know we talked, but it’s not the same.”

“I missed you, too,” Allison responded in an equally quiet tone.
She wanted to lean across the expanse of the bed and kiss the girl.  She grabbed a handful of sheets instead.  “It’s still your turn, Rea.”

“Oh, right.” Reagan’s eyes re-focused on her playing board. “A2.”

Allison pulled out a white peg. “Miss.”  Battleship was safe.  Battleship was mindless.  And it gave her hands something to do. 
But they could be doing Reagan
.

“How have I not hit
anything
?” Reagan complained. 

Allison shrugged. “I’m stealthy. B4.”

“Hit.”  Reagan made a frustrated noise.  “Damn it. You sunk my cruiser.  C6.”

“Miss.” The smile on Allison’s face grew with each incorrect guess.

“Do you even have any ships on your board?” Reagan whined.  She was naturally competitive and hated losing, even at a meaningless game of Battleship.

Allison covered a laugh by clearing her throat.  She looked particularly pleased by something.  “I’m looking at all five ships right now.”

“I don’t believe you.” Reagan grabbed Allison’s board.  Red and white pegs scattered across the mattress top.

“Hey!” Allison protested.

“I can’t believe you!” Reagan exclaimed.  “I didn’t think it was possible, but you found a way to cheat at Battleship.”