Chapter 7

seven

SYDNEY

I can’t handle Dennis standing in the foyer of my apartment. I’m not ready for guests. My house has my clothes thrown haphazardly about, and if he didn’t already have a pair of my underwear in his pocket, I would worry about the pair that’s currently hanging off my lamp.

It’s taking a lot of strength to not look around so I can pick out all the ways I’m probably inferior next to a woman like Carmen. She’s always so pressed when she comes into the coffee shop, looking like she’s going to step right back into the pages of a magazine. My apartment, though, with the butter yellow walls and chipping paint and windows that won’t open no matter how hard I try. It feels so insufficient. It almost makes me wish I had listened to Louis about cleaning before Thanksgiving. Almost.

I won’t be the other woman, no matter how much I treasured last night. I may not have shown it very well by walking out the door before he was even conscious. But it meant so much to me, because even when I could see him struggle to hold back, Dennis always, always made sure I got there first.

Nice guys really do finish last .

“I broke up with Carmen this morning on the drive back.”

Ugh, I think that makes me feel even worse. It must be written all over my face because he holds his hands up in a placating gesture.

“No, not because of you. Can we talk? I want to clear some things up about last night. To start, I want to know why you left.”

My hands are clumsy from the numb of the cold and from the crash of emotions in me at the news. Delight that Dennis is single, guilt that maybe I am a homewrecker, and then relief that I’m not.

Dennis steps up, and he takes over the motions of unbuttoning my peacoat. I look up at him. I want to kiss him again now that all the complicated feelings from last night aren’t hanging over our heads, but I also don’t want to do that because we do need to talk. I need to hear him out and find out from him exactly what happened with Carmen.

“Can I get you something to drink?” I ask as his hands slide over my shoulders, pushing my coat and scarf off me. If I look up into his eyes, I’m going to jump him right now or get on my knees. I think it will depend on what I see there. My curtains are sheer and help block people from looking in during the day, but at night with the lights on, nosy busybodies like Sheila down at the post office will see what I’m up to and spread the gossip like it’s the weather report.

“Do you have beer or wine?” he asks. My coat is gripped in his hands between us like it’s the only thing keeping him from mauling me in my front entrance.

That wouldn’t be such a bad thing. I can practically feel my pussy scream at me, but I have to keep a level head, so I kick my shoes off and go to get us each a glass of wine, thankful that Louis always brings two every time he comes over, an act he claims is for him, but he knows the old lady gossip brigade will just talk about my sad loveless life and wonder when I’m getting a cat to complete my transformation to spinster at 26.

“Take a seat,” I urge Dennis.

I have a bottle of red open, which I finish pouring into my glass. Luckily, I have a second bottle that I can crack open because I down what’s already out. Bracing my hands on the counter, I call out to Dennis again. “Sorry I need to open a new bottle.”

“Take your time,” he hollers back, but it doesn’t sound like he’s in my living room. It sounds like he’s in my hallway leading down to my bedroom, which might be even more of a mess.

I open that bottle of wine faster than I think I ever have in my life. There are definitely splashes of wine left on the counter from me moving from pouring into one glass to the next, staining the white formica.

When I step out of my kitchen, I find Dennis right where I expected him, in the hallway to my bedroom, looking at the pictures on my walls. I didn’t decorate much when I moved in because this was always supposed to be temporary. I was moving home because my mom was sick, and I needed to be closer to help out. Really, they never needed me needed me , but cancer is a scary word and at twenty-two regardless of my relationship with my parents, that’s not something you ever want to have to face.

These pictures were supposed to serve as a reminder of why I wanted to go back to college. It’s me during an internship at a local aquarium in Florida, where I helped to monitor the stingray pool. There’s pictures of me and my college friends, all of whom I lost touch with when it became more and more clear that I was never going to go back to that life. They would share stories of their internships and the amazing things they got to see, and I had my small town tales of who I caught sharing looks over coffees or how the whole town showed up when we lost the proprietor of Gingerbread’s this past summer. None of that stacked up to watching the birth of a shark or the hatching of sea turtle eggs.

My mom got better. She’s been in remission for three years. When she would go into the city for her scans, I drove her and we would talk about stupid things like how Sips on Main was doing and what the latest town gossip was, but she never asked me about going back to school, and I never offered. This is the first Christmas that I’ll be spending without them since I moved home. It’s only been a few months since they decided to be closer to the doctor, closer to the city, and for the first time, I feel like I can breathe.

It no longer feels like they’re catching glimpses of me working as they walk through town, thinking about how I failed to live up to their expectations. Maybe if I wasn’t a perpetual disappointment, I would feel some sort of way about it, but since this is nothing new, nothing has changed for me.

“Here.” I nearly throw the wine in Dennis’s face as I offer it to him. Part of me is hoping he didn’t have enough time to really look at the photos. It’s just going to be another reason I feel not good enough for him.

“Thanks.” He takes a deep breath in. “Sydney, I want to clear the air.”

I could say something, barrel on and step over him, but I won’t. He looks so serious right now, and I want to do anything that will put him at ease.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped–”

Okay, now I do have to speak up. “At no point last night was I ever uncomfortable or made to feel like I was pressured to do something I didn’t want to. I wanted to suck your cock. I wanted you to pull my hair and call me your slut. I wanted–want–it all.”

I’m as bare as I was before him last night, and he’s admittedly just gotten out of a very long-term relationship so he’s probably not looking for something new, but it’s important to me that he not feel any guilt in association with what happened last night. There is no decision I would undo from last night. I would go to that party in that dress. I would wear the red lipstick and take the key to the Porsche. I would sit on his lap and kiss him and fuck him, and sleep with him where I knew I was safe and comfortable in his arms.

“You still want it?” His grip on the wine glass tightens and I’m afraid for a second he’ll smash right through the glass when I would rather he smash me.

“Yes, but if you and Carmen just broke up, I… I don’t want to play second fiddle or be a rebound.” I look down and into my glass, which I’m noticing now has cork in it from how hastily I opened the bottle.

Dennis presses his forehead to mine. “You are never going to play second fiddle to anyone.”

I snort and tilt my head up to him, putting our lips a breath apart. “That’s easy for you to say, you’ve still got after-sex glow turning your brain to mush. You also just ended a decade-long relationship.”

“A relationship that’s been over for longer than I care to admit. A relationship where I was the only one trying… A relationship where I’m pretty sure she was cheating on me. If not with Fran?ois, then with someone. I get that as a guy I’m supposed to treasure my woman like she’s the be-all and end-all, but I also deserve to feel valued in a relationship, and I felt more like her employee than her partner.”

I step back against the wall because holy hell batman, there is a lot to unpack in that statement. “You deserve to feel valued, of course. I’m so sorry you didn’t.”

“I felt more appreciated last night with you than I did in almost the entirety of my relationship with Carmen. ”

I squeeze out from under him and lead him back into the safety of my living room, where I can have some space to think about what any of this means for us. Does this mean he wants to see me? Should he want to see me? I still don’t want to be his rebound, and I have to rewrite a lot of things I thought I knew about him with this new context.

“You two never really made sense to me,” I confess, but not wanting it to seem like I’m just here to shit on his ex, I change gears. “Are you okay?” I ask, sitting on the sole recliner in the corner. I don’t really want to talk about Carmen, but I also don’t want Dennis to think that I’m jumping on the corpse of their relationship in celebration. I need to know where his head is at, because I want him to like me, and not just as a hot body to fuck. I want him to like me . It’s a stupid, vulnerable thing to think, but I can’t change that.

Taking the hint, Dennis sits on the couch. I still can’t picture him here, even when he’s this flesh and blood man sitting right in front of me. “Funny, I came here to ask you the same thing.”

“Me? Why?” I take a sip from my drink and cross my legs. I appreciate Dennis coming to see me, but he’s messing with my post-work ritual of taking my pants off and sliding into a bath to try to restore my social battery. I don’t like to be a disingenuous person, but the holidays are hard on me. I have to add extra pep to my step that my regular customers don’t need. It’s not just about being efficient at my job. I also have to smile with the right brightness, say Happy Holidays , and provide cheer for people that I don’t have. If people wanted that experience, they should go to Disney, but Sips on Main is not about that life.

“Because you left before I woke up. Because I wasn’t ready for the night to be over.” He’s holding my gaze, searching for an answer he’s never going to find.

I look away from him into my glass, where the cork is still floating. At least I haven’t consumed it. “I thought it would be less complicated if you didn’t have to see me in the morning.”

“Less complicated for me or for you?”

My gaze snaps back up to him. “If I wanted it to be less complicated for me, would I have taken your wallet?”

“So, you admit it: you stole my wallet.”

“Objection. Hearsay.”

“Overruled.” Dennis gets to his feet and stalks over to me. Really, he prowls like I’m the prey he’s caught in his sights, and I can’t help but lower my legs and spread them for him. He takes the glass from my hand and sets it on the table beside me. “We have unfinished business.”

“We do?” I ask, tilting my head to look up at him. No, this relationship, or whatever this is, could never work. He’s too tall. I can’t stretch my neck like this all the time.

“We do. You owe me a morning after, and my wallet. I’m not leaving until I get what I came for.”

“And what is that, Dennis? Be explicit,” I say, parroting his words from last night.

“I want a whole night with a morning after. I want to be able to have you for breakfast and then bring you breakfast in bed. I want to help you set up your Christmas decorations, and I want the taste of you on my tongue when I go to sleep.”

It’s like a record scratch for me when he says Christmas decorations, but he keeps going. I can always tell him tomorrow that there won’t be any Christmas decorations to put up. I can tell him after he does all the filthy things he wants to me. Even last night, it felt like there could be more to our connection, but I was afraid it was just the lust influencing the events of the night.

“You think you’ll want to spend the night?” I challenge.

“I know I will.” He braces his hands on the chair and leans down so his face is inches from mine. It presses my bangs into my eyes, drawing them down to stare at his full mouth. “If you want this, sugar, I’m yours.”

“Why do you call me that, sugar?” My nose grazes his.

“Because you’re everything but.”

“Too right,” I tell him. It’s the smallest movement forward, but it brings our lips into contact.

This kiss is a slow, methodical feeling out of each other as we try to see what each person likes. I don’t have much room for movement, so I’m trying to lean out of my chair as much as I can to reward the fervor he has for me.

He breaks away from me just as I’m about to open my mouth to him. Dennis wraps his hand around mine, tugging me to my feet so we’re both standing. He wastes no time before descending on me again.

As our lips move together, it’s all lightness and effervescence with each stroke of his tongue against mine. I brace my hands on his shoulders and give a small jump up. Thankfully, Dennis is prepared to lift me, gripping first my waist and then my ass as he walks backward until he’s sitting on the couch with me straddling him, grinding against his erection.

“Maybe we should slow down,” I pant into his mouth. Dennis pulls away from me to look me in the eye, and I can’t help it, I kiss him again, even if I was the one pumping the brakes. “I mean, you just got out of a relationship,” I say just because I feel like it needs to be said.

“If you want me to stop, I’ll stop. No hard feelings.”

“Really?” I grind down on him and okay, yes, it is a little, more than a little cruel. “Because this feels really hard to me.”

Dennis laughs. He laughs into my mouth and grips the back of my head firmly.

“Fuck, Sydney. Do you feel what you do to me? I’m ready to punch a hole through both of our jeans. But I’ll stop if you ask. ”

I shake my head. “Don’t. Please don’t.” I’m a contradiction of feelings, but something that feels this good can’t be wrong.

Dennis is panting as I stare into his eyes and I don’t stop my grin as I rock my hips back and forth, finding the right level of friction. With his hands on my sides, he guides me forward and back, forward and back, until a squeak escapes me and a wave of pleasure crashes into me. My orgasm might be small, and might not have the squirting from last night, but Dennis is all smug satisfaction until I nip at his neck.

“Fuck, Sydney,” he moans again, holding me still on his lap while he grinds up into me. “You’re going to make me cum in my jeans like I’m a teenager.”

This only makes me want to see that happen. I want him to be so needy for me that he makes a mess of himself. It’s a powerful feeling, being wanted, being needed this much. I don’t stop what I’m doing, grinding down on him until he’s rolling us on the couch so I’m on my back. He barely takes the time needed to undo his pants and shove them down before he’s jerking his fist all along the length of him.

“Someone looks needy,” I tell him as I start to unbutton my jeans.

“No time. Take your shirt off and show me those tits again.” I barely have time to draw up my shirt when he’s coming in great spurts on my belly and chest.

I reach down and smear it in my skin before lifting some up to my mouth, but Dennis catches my hand before I can put those fingers in my mouth. All the desire that filled the room before vanishes.

“I want to get tested first. It’s been awhile since I was with anyone, but I would still feel better knowing I’m not putting you at any sort of risk.”

What is there to say to that? I don’t think I’ve ever been this cared for in my life. “Okay. ”

“Tell me, Sydney, what do you usually do after work?”

I smile up at him. “For starters, I take my pants off.”

“That I can comply with.” He sits back on his haunches and undoes my jeans. I could help him, and I sort of do when I go as far as lifting my hips when he helps me jimmy them down my legs. We get stuck since he is still sitting between my legs, but I don’t feel awkward, even if maybe I should. “What next?”

“Sometimes I run myself a bath. Sometimes I just veg out and watch TV.”

Dennis climbs off the couch and pulls his pants up enough that he’s covered but leaves his jeans and belt undone. Why is that so sexy?

“Bath it is.”

“Why, you think I’m dirty?” I ask as I move to stand beside him, but then I remember the actual cum on my stomach and I take my shirt off. He just smirks and it makes me want to hug him just so he’s got it all over him. “Touché.”

Dennis gestures for me to lead him toward the back of the apartment, asking about the living situation. It’s railroad style housing with three apartments. I have two people above me and there’s a basement unit that’s mostly used for storage at this point. He asks polite questions as I explain until we get to my clawfoot tub. It was an indulgence to have, but I wanted to be able to sink into the tub with a glass of wine and forget that I was supposed to be doing more with my life.

But right now, I think this is the life that I was meant to have, quiet and complete, even if it is alone for the time being. I know that Dennis needs to figure his shit out. He hasn’t been single in his adult life, and I don’t want to be some sort of a crutch, but admittedly, I could get used to bouncing on his dick and having him fill my tub for me like he is right now. Not only does he check the temperature, but he takes a paper towel and wipes down my belly with a gentle touch. Who even is he ?

“I can grab your Christmas stuff from the basement while you’re in the bath if you want some time alone.”

I wince as I swirl the water around the tub, making sure it’s a comfortable temperature. I’m just in my bra and underwear and I should maybe feel more self-conscious about it, but after squirting on his face last night, I figure there’s nothing left for me to hide.

“That’s not necessary,” I say in the direction of the tub.

Dennis crosses his arms and leans against the door jamb. He has to know what he looks like, right? He’s just using that sex appeal to break down my Christmas defenses that he doesn’t even know I have in place.

He wasn’t far off calling my behavior Grinchly, not just because stealing his wallet, which I’m reminded is still in my bra, was a bad thing to do, but because I hate Christmas. I don’t want to talk about the stupid holiday when I’m about to get totally naked in front of this man.

Hoping to distract him, I pull his wallet out, which is admittedly a little sweaty from an all day shift at Sips, but I liked having him close. Actually, that’s not the whole truth. I was afraid of what would happen if someone stole it from me after I stole it from him.

“You dropped this last night.”

He snatches it from the air, but doesn’t check the interior like I expected, before he slides it into his pocket.

“Sure, I did,” he says with a laugh. “If you don’t want me coming and going while you’re naked, that’s fine too, but just let me know. I’m happy to help you bring them out.”

He’s like a dog with a bone on this so I have to tell him. “I don’t have any decorations.” I turn the spigot off and face away from him while I take my bra and underwear off. I hear the creak of the floorboards as he walks away and I turn my head to find he’s no longer in the doorway. “Seriously, dude!?” I call after him.

“Relax, sugar, I was just getting your wine. What happened to your decorations? Was there flooding in the basement or something?”

So, this is what the other shoe dropping looks like. “Actually, I never had Christmas decorations.” Unable to stomach the look on his face, I slide into the hot bath with my back to the door.

Dennis moves into the room so he can sit on the lip of the tub while holding both our wine glasses. “Come on, really? You don’t have any decorations?”

Oh, my sweet winter baby. If only he knew. “I don’t love Christmas.” Dennis isn’t going to let me off that easy, because of course, not loving Christmas isn’t an excuse to not have any decorations. Even people with no real love for the holiday still have some sort of decorations, lights or inflatables or even a damn wreath. “Dennis…” I pull my hand out of the water to cover his. He looks understandably worried. “I hate Christmas.”

I wait for him to say something, to make a facial expression, really, anything, but he’s completely frozen. When he does finally react, he gives a forced laugh, but when I don’t laugh with him, the smile fades. “Can I ask a question?”

I laugh into my wine and take a sip. “I would honestly be surprised if you didn’t.”

“Why do you hate Christmas? No one hates Christmas except guys that work for big businesses when they come into a small town to turn it into like…an oil theme park.”

“So, you watch a lot of those corny movies.” I sip my wine again, but don’t really offer an answer. It’s too complicated. All my feelings that are associated with the holiday season are definitely too much to go into with what has been just a one night stand, a very hot and steamy one night stand, but all the same .

This could be budding into something more, and I really hope something like hating Christmas isn’t going to kill whatever this could be before it has a chance. But can I really be surprised? My own parents can’t handle spending time with me. Why would someone as pure and good as Dennis want to have a relationship with me?

“I do. I actually love Christmas movies. I love it all. I love the lights and the first snow. I love drinking cocoa by the fire and decorating the tree. I love ugly Christmas sweaters and wrapping presents. I love it all.”

“Hoooo boy. Love is a very strong word.” I say, looking up at him.

He leans closer toward me in a way that indicates he is looking for a kiss, and I can’t help it. I turn my head up toward him so he can have it. Our lips barely brush and it’s enough to have me clenching my thighs. Damn him. The motion must have drawn his attention because he looks down from where the movement originated.

Dennis transfers his wine glass to his other hand so he can slide his free one into the water. He starts with his hand on my knee before he moves it slowly down to the apex of my thighs. He’s elbow deep in the water with his sleeve still rolled down.

“I tend to love few things in this world. Christmas is one of them. And if I have my way, I’ll get to teach you the meaning of Christmas.”

“You’re not going to make my heart grow three sizes. This isn’t one of your corny movies,” I warn him, grabbing his wrist with my free hand.

“Doesn’t mean I won’t try. Now, let me in, Sydney.”

I don’t know if he just means between my legs, and I’m afraid to find out.

Since I lacked any sort of prophylactics, we resorted to all the other ways we could enjoy each other. After my bath, we dirtied ourselves up a bit more before curling up on my bed and doing the thing I hadn’t done in forever: just talked.

It’s been different being back home with my old friends. It’s like I came back to town the same girl who went to college, like I didn’t grow and learn in that time. Louis and Ollie are still the same, the way crazy old busybodies Bernice, Sheila, and Mildred are still the same, poking their nose in everyone’s business. It’s how my old friend, Noah Callahan, must feel returning, only he has the dark cloud of rumors hanging over his head.

But the way Dennis is interrogating me, because he is interrogating me, makes me feel like more than the girl who went to college and came back to be a barista.

“Why did you move back home?” he asks. He’s shirtless now, and his pants are still undone from all the easy access we needed. I’ve changed into an oversized sweatshirt that falls to my mid-thighs when I’m standing. Now, though, Dennis is drawing star patterns on the inside of said thigh, not close enough to draw any sort of desire forth, but just for the sake of touching me, which feels so comforting.

“I’m surprised you don’t know,” I say, sipping my mug of tea.

His eyebrows lift and he looks up at me. He’s lying so comfortably in my bed like he’s always belonged here, and maybe he has.

“Even if I did, I would want to hear your story from you.”

I blow on my tea to avoid kissing him. “My senior year in college, we found out my mom had the big C. Lung cancer. My parents actually met while bumming a cigarette. When she wanted to get pregnant, she quit but would pick it up off and on again all the time. He quit when I was born but would pick it back up during his stressful season then go cold turkey when he was through it.”

“He’s an accountant, right?”

“Yeah, that’s part of why they moved. Handling the books in town wasn’t enough for him. He wanted a bigger firm with better insurance so they moved into the city. That’s where all of mom’s doctors are anyway.”

“Is she okay?” He squeezes my knee and I have to fight the tears that spring to my eyes. He must see because he pushes up and pulls me into his lap.

“Yes, god. No, she’s alright. She’s in remission and everything. I just… It was scary and not fun, but I also… I came home so dad could keep working and so I could take her for her various treatments and be there when she needed me. I also don’t think I would have been able to forgive myself if I was on the other side of the country and she got worse.” And it still wasn’t good enough. I still wasn’t good enough.

“Sounds like you’re close.”

I shake my head. “Not even a little bit.” Not eager to get into the complicated relationship with my parents, I change the subject, hoping to put him on blast. “Are you close with your parents?”

“Yes, they moved to Florida last year and I bought their house from them. They want me to come down to visit, but this year with the new sheriff coming in, I couldn’t do it. They have a nice little waterfront bungalow. Every day, I get a picture from my dad of the sun rising with a text saying he wishes I was there, and every day there’s just the tip of his finger in the shot.”

I snort and can’t help it. “They don’t come back for the holidays?”

“Not yet. Maybe when I have kids they will, but when I asked, they both told me the reason they moved away was to escape the cold and snow.”

“Are they going to send you photos of sandmen?”

“See? Already making Christmas jokes. I might make a little elf out of you yet.”

I set my tea on my nightstand so I can wrap my arms around him. “Don’t go celebrating your victory yet. I can still go Krampus on your ass.”

Belatedly, I realize I’ve still made a Christmas joke, even if it is a dark one, and the smug satisfaction on Dennis’s face is worth it.