Chapter 6

six

DENNIS

The ride down the mountain is equally as quiet, but my mood is far better. I can’t say the same for Carmen. Far better is actually a bit of a stretch. When I woke up and attempted to mold my body around Sydney for maybe a slow morning fuck, she was gone. Her side of the bed was as icy as my blood ran when I realized she had snuck away like a thief in the night.

Which she is.

I know she didn’t steal anything from the Porsche, but when I put my pants on and went to make sure I had my wallet and keys, I managed to find my keys, but instead of my wallet I found a black lace thong. It’s taking a lot more willpower than I have not to touch the thong in my pocket where it remains.

It seems the only thing Sydney stole last night was my wallet and my peace of mind. I can’t get her out of my mind. It wasn’t Carmen I thought about all morning while I sat in the living room dicking around on my phone. My brain kept running to the feel of Sydney as her thighs clenched around my head when I made her come or all the little ways she would shift while I was eating her out. She didn’t object as I consumed her the way she is consuming me now. I was worried she wouldn’t like what I was doing, but I was confident she liked it by the time I was done. Not once did I feel judged for my inexperience.

Carmen doesn’t say a word to me the entire drive until we hit Evergreen Lake town limits. “Did you have a nice time fucking that trollop?”

We’re at a stop sign so at least my hard break is warranted, even if my insurance company is going to see it on their stupid report. Still worth it.

“Don’t say that, Carmen. Don’t shame Sydney and I for that matter for having sex at a party you wanted to go to.”

Carmen twists in her seat so she’s looking at me. “I didn’t think you would go through with it.”

Seeing a scenic overlook, I pull into it and put the car in park. This is not a conversation I want to have while driving.

“What did you think was going to happen, Carmen? Did you want me to go with you into that room? Did you want me to be your third while you and Fran?ois made love? Or perhaps I could have sat in a chair to watch and jerk off, unable to touch you? Did you expect hotwifing or cuckolding to be a secret kink I would only discover while watching you? Please, Carmen, tell me what you expected from last night? Were you expecting no one would want to have sex with me because you don’t want to?”

Maybe I’m being mean, but I feel justified as I keep pushing. I didn’t mean to let that last insecurity out, but I’m not going to claw it back. I’ve let Carmen walk all over me and have everything she wants for a decade, and it’s never good enough for her. Nothing I do is good enough, and at some point in the last year, we became people who would occasionally kiss and represent ourselves as in a relationship, but it hasn’t felt like one in the longest time. I’m tired of feeling like I’m not worth wanting. I’m tired of feeling like I’m doing something wrong by wanting to be intimate with my partner. Last night proved that I’m not the problem in our relationship.

Maybe I should have gone and cleaned my stuff out of Carmen's house when I woke to find Sydney gone instead of waiting like some sucker for her to get the morning orgasm that Sydney deprived me of.

“We’re supposed to get married,” she says through tears. It usually works. I usually want to fix whatever it is that’s wrong. I don’t now. Not when I’ve seen what could be, what it feels like to be desired in return.

“No, Carmen, I don’t think we are supposed to get married.” I look away from her and grip the steering wheel. There is one question that sits on the tip of my tongue, and I can’t decide if I want to know. Asking the question out loud will only serve to hurt me further. I may have fallen out of love with Carmen at some point in the last year. We may have been two boats left adrift in the sea, moving further and further apart without realizing it. But it doesn’t mean that finding out she’s been cheating on me won’t hurt.

“Dennis, please, look at me,” she pleads, grabbing my forearm, but I pull away.

I don’t say anything to her as I shift the car back into drive. When I get to her house, I don’t look over at her.

“I think we both know that this is over.”

“You can’t do this.”

I look at her, finally, fresh mascara running down her face, and I wonder if I ever really knew her. Nothing in her eyes tells me that she’s actually upset; it all just feels like an act. “I just did.”

She grabs my forearms and tries to shake me. “Dennis, Dennis, please . You can’t do this.”

I won’t engage with her. I spent too many years trying to be what she needed, what she wanted, but I’m over it. I’m tired of being made to feel like I’m lacking. “I’ll send Ben to get my stuff, but we’re done, Carmen. I’m not going to be the guy waiting in the car while you sow your wild oats.” Her lower lip sticks out in a pout so dramatic I can see it from the corner of my eye. “I thought you loved me, but that hasn’t been for a very long time.” It’s a painful truth to speak between the two of us, but one I think we both need to hear. Any hopes of this ending amicably have flown out the window.

“You’re serious.”

Now I do face her. “Carmen, be honest, brutally honest. Are you happy with me?”

Her brown eyes search my face looking for I don’t know what. Confirmation that this is over? That I’m not budging on this point?

“Fuck you, Dennis. You can get your shit off my lawn.”

She turns and storms out of the car, and with each stomping step she takes away from me, I feel a weight lifted from my chest.

Not ready to go home, I head to the gym at the precinct. Thoughts of last night are still racing through my head. Sydney was so unexpected in every way. She gave as good as she took. Everything I knew about her from high school feels wrong. Her friends tended to be the kind who were always getting into some form of trouble, be it suspensions or talking back to teachers. She was never really on my radar, but I would catch sight of those grey eyes through her bangs and would imagine myself kissing those classic red lips. Before I started dating Carmen .

My parents never thought poorly of me for choosing not to go to college full time. I took some classes at the community college a few towns over, just to avoid the feeling of being inferior, but school was never my strong suit. As soon as there was an opening to be on the force, I took it as well as my parents' house when they moved to Florida for warmer weather.

When I get into the locker room, Wolensky is sitting on the bench with his uniform unbuttoned.

“Mitchell, what are you doing here?” he asks me, buttoning his shirt up. It is right around shift change, but Wolensky must be late, as usual. His wife is expecting their sixth and she’s deep in her third trimester. I know his other kids keep asking if they’re naming the baby Jesus. Wolensky made the mistake of saying only if he’s born in the manger, but that only got them started anew.

“I just wanted to burn off some steam, go for a run.” It occurs to me as I start to unbutton my shirt that I’m in the same suit as last night, and Wolensky has definitely noticed.

“Yeah? I’m surprised you’re not hung over walking in here wearing last night’s clothes. What, did you decide you want to be a lawyer?” He gets to his feet before unlocking his service weapon from the gun safe in his locker.

“Oh yeah, you know me, Mr. College.” The nickname bothered me for the first few years, like it made me less than for not really going to school, but Wolensky explained that it was the opposite. Most of them don’t even bother with community college. I take my shirt off and hang it up beside my uniform. My chest is bare when I hear Wolensky whistle.

“Looks like Carmen got you good last night.”

I look down at my chest, catching sight of just one of the claw marks from Sydney. I have to fight the biological urge to get hard at the thought of how her pussy spasmed around my cock when she left these marks. This woman is going to be the death of me.

And the rebirth.

From last night alone, I’ve felt more seen than I ever have in my life, and I want more of it. I want Sydney to be there to call me on my shit, and I want to do what I can to make her crack the way she did last night. I want to make her come again, and again, and again. Eating her out once was not enough for me, not by a long shot.

I push past Wolensky toward the only mirror in the locker room so I can see the damage in full. I didn’t think that Sydney’s nails were all that long, but she got them in good on one of my pecs. On my other, she left a few hickeys, including a trail of them down, down, down.

Wolensky is smirking over my shoulder before he pats me on the back like a proud big brother.

“It wasn’t Carmen,” I say, because I want to tell him that Carmen and I are over, but as soon as the words are out of my mouth, I regret them. If I say it wasn’t Carmen, he’s going to want to know who it was and no matter what I say, I know he’s going to tell his wife, Ina, who will in turn tell Sheila, and at that point, I should just buy an ad in the paper.

“You dog, I never thought…” he struggles to finish the statement, and I get why. He’s thinking that I’m a cheater, and I think that’s worse.

“No, it’s not like that. Carmen and I broke up.” That is at least a truth I think both Carmen and I will appreciate having out in the open. Better to deal with sympathy from strangers than having to tell people to their faces.

“Wow, I’m surprised. I know you were talking about marriage.”

The party line slips from my mouth before I can stop it. “She wants to focus on her career before having to be Mrs. Dennis Mitchell.”

How many times have I repeated that? How many times did she laugh behind her hand for knowing I’m the sucker she thought I was? The sucker I proved myself to be.

“Well, chin up, friend. We’ll head down to The Reindeer Hole and you can tell me all about the jungle cat that mauled you last night and where you found her. I didn’t think we were expecting all the tourists until next week.”

“Sorry, Wolensky, I’ve got plans tonight.”

At least, I hope I do. I just need to convince Sydney we have plans. After agreeing to at least get a drink with Wolensky in the near future, he heads off to his shift and I go to run it out on the treadmill.

If Sydney wants to run away, I just have to be faster.

“I just can’t believe you finally kicked that harpy to the curb,” Ben says from where he’s laid out on my couch, a video game controller in his hand. I’ve spent the last thirty minutes cleaning out everything that belongs to Carmen. Knowing I would be persona non-grata as soon as her sister texted her, I messaged Anita, Carmen’s older sister, that I have stuff for her to pick up. I have everything from left over clothes to toiletries. I just want to start anew.

“Get off that blanket. I think it’s Carmen’s. And don’t call her that. Just because she’s my ex doesn’t mean you can denigrate her.”

“Ohh, big SAT word,” Ben says through a laugh, still not getting off the blanket. I grab one of Ben’s half-empty sports drinks and chuck it at him. He knows I’m sensitive about having not gone to college while Carmen and most people I know did.

“Get off the fucking blanket,” I snap, tugging on it.

“Okay, okay, sorry. Dude, you went to a sex party. I hope you got railed by one of Frankie’s hot, rich friends. Those parties are legendary. I have no idea how you scored an invite.” Ben rolls off the blanket so I can throw it in the box of Carmen’s shit I’ve accumulated.

“Carmen got the invite.” I stay silent on whether or not I got any last night. I’m not going to kiss and tell and air everything that happened between Sydney and I. She fucking left me, and I’m trying to figure out how I feel about it.

Currently mad. I feel like we have unfinished business.

But her underwear in my pocket reminds me that maybe our business isn’t as unfinished as I think.

When Anita shows up, her lips are pinched. “You’re a real fucking douchebag, Dennis. I know you pretend to be a nice guy but you’re not.”

Her words hit me like a ton of bricks because she’s a little too close to home after last night. There are still moments from being with Sydney that make me feel like I was in the wrong, and I want to talk to her to clear the air, for my own sake. If she feels at all like I abused my power with her, I’ll do what I have to in order to rectify the situation.

“Go scratch, Anita. Your sister doesn’t have a leg to stand on and she knows it,” Ben calls from where he’s sitting on the couch.

“You have a small dick and no job prospects,” she shouts back. She yanks the box from my hand.

“That doesn’t stop you from sucking my dick down like it’s a slurpee. ”

I forgot these two hook up from time to time, as much as their hate-fucking is a culmination of all their barbs.

“Yeah, sucking you down like a straw because your dick is built like a fucking paper straw–thin and with no substance and you come apart the second I wrap my mouth around you.”

“And yet, you return week after week, you sad, lonely, monster cuntasaurus.”

“Who is the sad, lonely one sleeping on his friend’s couch?” She looks me up and down. “You never deserved Carmen.”

“And yet, who are you going to call whining that you’re horny?”

“Enough,” I snap. “Both of you, foreplay on your own time. Anita, it was your sister’s idea to go to that party. If she was worried about changing our relationship, maybe she should have thought about that before suggesting we go to a sex party.”

The look on Anita’s face changes from outrage to confusion to annoyance. “That’s– whatever. I’ll get you your stuff from her place, whatever she hasn’t burned yet.”

With the door closed on Anita, I turn to Ben, who pauses his game to look up at me. “She totally wants to fuck me.”

“Whatever. I’m going out for coffee. Want one?” I offer.

“Yeah, and do you think you could bring me a muffin from Lips and Hips?”

I roll my eyes, nodding because with Ben it’s always give an inch, take a mile.

I feel like a creep standing across the street from Sips on Main, the coffee shop that Sydney works at. I can only just see her through the glass that Mary frosted to make it feel more like Christmas. All around, preparations are underway to make the area feel more festive. There are wreaths being hung from light posts and string lights being threaded through the barren trees. I can’t wait for the first true snowfall of the season, even if it makes my job a little harder.

Before I can think better of it, or someone gets the wrong idea, I jog across the street, waving at the driver who let me by. I can see through the glass just enough to watch Sydney as she hands a coffee to someone. Her smile is warm before the customer walks away and her smile drops. I wonder if she was working the early shift and was always going to sneak out of the bed we shared.

I think that’s the thing that bothers me most, that she climbed from the warm bed we shared and disappeared like we did something wrong. Now, I’m determined to make sure I didn’t do anything wrong that made her feel like she had to. When I slide my hands into my pocket and finger her underwear, the only confirmation that maybe she felt something too, it helps settle my nerves.

It’s now or never, and I pull the door open, the bell alerting her to the presence of a new customer. She’s alone, wiping down the counter with an old rag, her back to me. Afternoons tend to be slower, but around the café there are patrons sitting with their laptops or books open with some random mug on the table in front of them. Christmas music is playing softly, and I can’t help but savor the punch of joy that slithers through my veins at the sound.

“Hi and welcome to Sips on Main. What can I get for you?” She turns to face me, her smile slipping for a half-second before a different look crosses her face.

“Can I get one of your french toast lattes and a regular black to go? ”

She doesn’t look back up at me as she punches the order in on the tablet. “Are those both to go?” Her voice is sickly sweet, a smirk tugging the corners of her mouth.

“Just the black to go. I’ll have my latte for here, if that pleases you.” If that pleases you? Who the fuck am I?

She snorts, rightfully so. “Do you want me to wait to get you that coffee before you go?”

“That would be great. Thank you.”

She reads off the total and looks at me, all smug satisfaction. It’s the same look she gave me after I blew my load on her breasts. I can’t help it, my gaze drops to her breasts, and all I can think about is fucking them until she’s begging me to cum on her face. My dick apparently likes the idea too because I’m hard again, something that’s impressive after last night. I thought it would be too tired, like the rest of me, but apparently the limit does not exist when it comes to Sydney.

“Do you need me to cover this one for you?” she asks, saucily. Her small hand is reaching for her shirt, and if that’s where my wallet is I’m going to have to arrest myself for public indecency.

“Nope, I got it.” I reach into my pocket and pull out her thong, sliding it across the counter to her.

Her jaw drops in outrage, but I can see the smile on her face as she takes it. “This is very rude,” she scolds with a laugh. The mirth in her eyes is worth it.

“So was stealing my wallet. I can charge you for that, you know.”

She pockets her underwear before using a hand sanitizer and then spraying the counter with cleaner.

“Since we don’t accept thong’s as payment, I’m going to have to ask how else you plan to pay.”

Leaning over the counter toward her, I reach into the apron pocket and pull the thong back out. Sydney does nothing to stop me. “It’s not very festive behavior, stealing before Christmas. It’s actually very Grinchly behavior.”

“I’m not a very festive person,” she says tartly. How she looks tells a different story. She has bright red lipstick on her mouth. It looks like the same shade that was smeared all over both of our lips last night. She’s also wearing a big red bow in her hair right where her ponytail sits. I’m glad I have better control over my impulses because all I want to do is wrap my fist around that ponytail and kiss her until we’re both smeared with the red on her lips.

“Your attire says otherwise.”

This makes her scowl and scrunch her nose. “Mary made me. She says I have to bring the Christmas cheer for all the tourists we don’t have yet.”

“Oh, they’re coming. Ben is staying on my couch because he’s renting his place out for the month on Spend the Night .”

Sydney is quiet for a second. “Then you’re just going to have to come to my place to get your wallet.”

Her grey eyes lift from the counter to meet my gaze head on, and I nod. “When do you get off work?”

“Eight,” Sydney’s voice is soft before she turns to start making my drink. She never charges me for the latte, and I never ask for the black coffee.

Sips has a respectable lending library of books with everything from fantasy to bodice rippers to horror to religious texts. Ruby Olsen donates damaged copies from her bookstore here, so sometimes it’s possible to get lucky with a new release. I can feel Sydney’s eyes on me when I walk past the romance section, so on a lark, I grab one of those to read while I wait for her.

There’s a few moments while skimming that I get to the dirty bits, and I have to see where Sydney is in the room, just so I can play the fantasy out in my mind, of fucking her in a hot tub, against a wall. Eventually, I’m just watching her like a stalker so I grab a different title as a distraction.

When I get up, I can’t help but realize that Sheila, Mildred, and Bernice are sitting in a corner booth, which gives them the best view to spot the exchange Sydney and I had earlier. The little wave Mildred gives me confirms it, but I can’t find it in me to be mad, even if I know this means everyone in town will know before Sydney’s shift is over. That caveman voice in my head wants everyone to know that she’s off-limits. I offer a quick smile and grab a thriller just so I don’t have to explain myself to the town gossips.

I wait the entire five hours for her to finish her shift. My eyes are bleary when I find a shadow standing over me. Sydney is standing there with her warm winter coat on, a beanie pulled low over her ears.

“I’m guessing you stayed to walk me home?”

“These parts are dangerous. You shouldn’t walk home alone in the dark.” I don’t particularly feel that’s true, but with the influx of tourists, there's sure to be some bad eggs in the bunch. Keeping her safe comes first before getting my wallet.

“No, I trust our local law enforcement.” She goes through the motions of locking up the store while I stand outside and wait for her. There’s power in knowing that she trusts me. If that’s me specifically or law enforcement in general, I’m desperate to know.

I let her lead me down side streets as she walks toward the smaller row houses on the edge of town. I don’t know where to start talking with her because I don’t know what she wants from me, and this feels like a conversation we need to have in private.

She lets us into her first floor apartment and the first thing I do is check the safety of the space. She has large bay windows that look out on her front porch and the street beyond that. The windows are probably original to the house and over a century old. Windows that are easy to jimmy open. Sydney closes the door behind me, tossing her keys on a front table, also easily in view of the front windows.

“Before this goes any further, I need to know what is going on with you and Carmen.” She looks so fierce as she crosses her arms, but the bow is still in her hair and it makes me want to kiss her silly.

But she deserves an answer first.