34. Josie

34

Josie

T hanksgiving is a tough holiday for my family because it's also the anniversary of my parents' accident. We started a tradition a few years ago that makes the holiday a little easier to handle. The younger kids are in Florida with my grandparents. Levi and I get a bit of a break and the kids get to relax and spend time with Gram and Pop. We do the same at Easter and for a few weeks every summer. Parenting four children full-time would be too much for my grandparents at this stage in their lives, so this arrangement works well. Typically, I stay at school and work in the library while Levi goes to some gaming convention, but this year I'm not shelving books or cataloging new releases.

I'm spending the break with Van and his family and though I was a little nervous about all the peopling, it's exactly the distraction I need.

Van and I had a full day. We visited his old high school and I met his coach. We caught up with a few of his friends and cousins for coffee and I'll admit, I was a little nervous. But I shouldn't have worried at all. Van took the best care of me. He was constantly holding my hand or including me in the conversation, filling me in on all the inside jokes.

We had dinner with his mom tonight and it was delicious. She went to his Aunt Beth's a little while ago to help get ready for tomorrow's family gathering. I almost offered to help, but Van was standing behind her shaking his head vigorously. I'm not too worried; there'll be plenty of opportunities to be helpful tomorrow. And he had a good point: I'm not going to pass up the chance for the two of us to be alone for a few hours.

Right now, though, he's a little busy. I'm playing word games on my phone while he's watching footage of the team's last game. He's recording messages for each of the guys about their strengths and where they need to improve. It's amazing. He can watch a few seconds of footage and where all I see is a blur of jerseys and movement, Van can pinpoint exactly where Will needs to grip his stick a little higher or where Pete needs to pivot sooner.

I unscramble a few more words before Van closes his laptop and turns to me.

"Sorry. That took longer than I thought it would. It's just that we'll only have two practices before our next game, and I want to make sure we're ready."

I wave him off. "I totally get it. Besides, it's kinda hot, watching you work. I still don't understand half of what you're saying, but I love listening."

Van smiles at me and though I'm not one for being the center of attention, I bloom under his gaze.

He tucks a stray hair behind my ear. "It's wild, seeing you here."

"On your couch?"

"Yeah," he nods. "I never thought you would actually come here, to my house. I love it, don't get me wrong. It's just trippy as fuck."

"I'm glad it all worked out," I say. "This is one of the few weeks a year I'm entirely kid-free."

"Well, I'm really glad you decided to spend your break with me instead of with all your fictional boyfriends. I'm pretty sure that if you weren't here, you'd be curled up in your bed reading about Duke-what's-his-face."

I blush. "I should probably tell you that Ward Fleetwood bears a striking resemblance to you. Maybe I just can't resist you, in real life or in fiction."

Van flashes me his commercial-worthy smile. "You say that now. But back when you were assigned to tutor me? Damn, Jos. Even before Coach told me where to go and who to ask for, I knew it would be you. As soon as he said there's this tutor. She's the best they have . I got this feeling and I just knew it would be you. I figured you'd never show."

Is he serious? "What? I am nothing if not reliable. And punctual."

"And hot," he adds. "But for real, I was pretty sure you'd find a way out of it. You, uh, got pretty good at avoiding me over the years."

I hug a throw pillow to my chest like armor. He's right, but it still stings. And his memory seems to be selective. "I did, but I wasn't the only one whose tactic was avoidance. You did your fair share of hiding, too."

Van's quiet and I'm wondering if he remembers that day the way I do. Maye not. Maybe his slight wasn't intentional. Just when I'm sure it's all in my head, Van starts talking.

"Finals week, spring of sophomore year. We were in the courtyard of the commons. It was the first week of May and the sun was shining. Santos and Ollie started a game of capture the flag on the lawn."

Okay, he definitely remembers that day. I'm not sure if that makes me feel better or worse. "Yes, I'd gotten out of my Stats final early and decided to eat outside where it was warm instead of in the freezing dining hall. I found a bench and got out my book. Something must have happened with the game because there was all this yelling."

He nods, remembering. "Santos scored and tore his shirt off. Then beat on his chest like a caveman. It's his signature move."

I laugh because it's easy to picture Pete doing that. "Yeah, well, there was noise, so I looked over. But all I saw was you. You looked right at me. I froze, thinking that maybe you were going to wave or come say hi. Part of me desperately wanted you to, and the other part was paralyzed. But it wasn't an issue. I've definitely done my share of avoidance. But I'm not the only one. You took one look at me, turned around and walked away. It was like you couldn't get out of there fast enough."

"I couldn't," he says plainly.

"Wow…um I mean, honesty is probably good for a relationship, but I think sugarcoating can be good too, sometimes?" I go for a laugh, but the truth is that his words hurt. I know he feels differently now, but it stings that he was so desperate to avoid me he practically ran in the other direction.

"Come with me, Jos," he says, his voice soft. Standing, he pulls me down the hall toward his room.

"Are you sure? Your mom could come home?—"

He presses a finger to my lips and a kiss to my forehead before showing me his phone and hitting Play. His mom's voice fills the room. Hey, honey. Your Aunt Beth makes a strong margarita, so I'm spending the night here. There are leftovers in the fridge if you get hungry. And there are condoms under the sink in the bathroom. Be safe. I love you. And that girlfriend of yours is adorable. See you tomorrow .

"Please come with me?" he asks.

I nod and follow him. I'm still a little bothered that he walked away. I get it; I've done the same. But I don't know…just the way he blatantly admitted that he basically ran away from me? Ouch. I wonder if I should say something. I hate confrontation. I really do. And I've wanted to be close to Van all day. I want to kiss him. I want to be with him. The thought of having sex with him, here in his room? Yes, please. But…I'm not really in the mood. And I don't think I will be until we talk this out and resolve it.

We step through the doorway and he leads me to the bed. He leans back on a pile of pillows, while I sit on the edge.

"Van, before we…I want to?—"

He threads his fingers through mine. "You want to know why I walked away? Hell, why I ran out of there like I was being chased?"

I nod, and he keeps talking.

"I remember that day, too—every part of it. Your hair was up in a clip. You had on these high-waisted jeans that showed off your hips and ass. Your top was sleeveless with black and white stripes. I can almost fucking guarantee it was a no-bra day, and there was this glorious sliver of skin between the top of your jeans and the bottom of your tank top."

I'm a little stunned. "Your memory is unreal. Even I don't remember what kind of jeans I had on. But it was hot, so I shoved my cardigan in my bag to get a little sun on my shoulders."

"I noticed you the minute you walked in. That was nothing new. I'd seen you around a couple other times that semester, but there were always crowds or I was headed somewhere. Not that day, though. I literally had hours to kill. I was gonna sub in when Ollie left for his final, but then you got there and?—"

"And you couldn't leave fast enough?—"

He reaches for me, but I stay put, shaking my head. "It's silly, I know. I've done the same to you, but?—"

"Your shirt was tight. I could see the outline of your tits from fifteen fucking feet away because I had memorized every curve on your perfect body, Jos. That little strip of skin? I knew exactly how soft it felt. I could picture my hands on your waist. I knew the sounds you'd make if I walked over to where you were, picked you up, and sat you on my lap. And I was tempted to. Figured you'd slap me and I wouldn't have blamed you. But god, I wanted to. Fuck me, Josie, I could still remember the way you tasted. It had been more than a year, and we weren't together long, but that didn't matter. I remembered everything."

I nod, understanding every word. "I wish one of us would have been brave enough to say hi or something."

He shakes his head. "I didn't want to say hi, Jos. I didn't want to know about your classes or who you were dating. What I wanted was to take you into my arms. To kiss you like you belonged to me. If I'd have put you in my lap, you want to know what would have happened? You'd have felt my dick between these perfect cheeks. I'd have pretended to watch the game, but I'd have been teasing you the whole time. I'd have run my thumbs over your nipples," he tells me, doing just that. "I'd have told you how good you looked. And I'd have walked out of there fast, just like I did. But I'd have taken you with me back to the hockey house. That's where I went.

"You thought I looked right through you, but the truth is I couldn't take my eyes off you, Jos. There were easily a hundred other people nearby. And I was hard as a fucking rock at the sight of you. That's why I walked away. So I could go back to my room like a fucking creep. Close my eyes and picture you. Stroke my dick and remember the sound of your voice, the look on your face when you came apart for me."

His gaze trails to the floor. "It's fucking pathetic. I know. Feel free to smack me. I deserve it. I?—"

His revelation makes me bold. Unbuttoning my sweater, I let it slide off my shoulders. "It's a bra day," I say, crawling toward Van on the bed. "But this is a new one. And it's not awful. It's not as good as naked, but?—"

Van's hands find my lace-covered breasts. "Nothing's as good as naked, Jos. But this is a damn fine second place."

It's barely a scrap of anything, but it's softer than it looks, and it has no wires or hooks. It's just a very short, very fitted, very lacy tank top. And I can live with that.

My eyes find his. "You really walked away because…you wanted me?"

"I walked away so I didn't come in my pants like a fucking weirdo, Jos. I walked away because I couldn't think straight. Because I wanted you so damn bad. And I knew I wasn't good?—"

I cover his mouth with mine. "Don't say it. Please don't even think it."

"You're not freaked out, Jos? It doesn't bother you even a little that I jacked off to thoughts of you? I was too much of a coward to approach you, but I had no problem grabbing my dick and rubbing one out after seeing you in a goddamn crop top. That makes me an asshole, Josie."

I lie on my back and make quick work of sliding my leggings and panties down before tossing them on the floor. Van's still wearing his sweats, but I don't let that stop me from straddling him.

"Jos—"

I press a finger to his lips. Van's told me his story, so it's only fair that I tell him mine. "Second semester freshman year, I went on a date with Jake Thomassy. He was a catcher on the baseball team."

Van's jaw is rigid as he nods. "I know."

"He took me to the book shop downtown and then to the diner."

My boyfriend's scowling. "Is this my punishment for being a creep? You're bare-ass naked, Jos and you're gonna sit on my dick and tell me about the perfect date another guy took you on?"

Instead of answering his question, I grind my very wet center over his aforementioned (and very hard) dick.

He closes his eyes and he mutters a curse, but I keep talking.

"The book shop was great. It's one of my favorite places."

Van's hands grip my waist, pressing us together once more. "I'm so fucking glad you had a nice time, Jos. But where's Jake Thomassy now? He's not here. He's not the one with his hands on you." He thrusts up into me and I moan, knowing full well that there's now a very wet spot on the front of his sweats. " Jesus. He's not the one you're fucking dripping on."

I shake my head. "He's not. I saw you there that night. The hockey team was leaving the diner just as we walked in."

He's rocking into me steadily now. My sex is drenched and his hands are still wrapped around my waist. "I remember," he tells me. "Newman gave me shit about seeing you with another guy. The whole way back to campus, Pete kept saying we should go back. I told him I wasn't making a fool of myself in front of you and Jake Fucking Thomassy. Pete said I didn't have to. That he'd go in and get your attention. Make some excuse about needing your help in a class. It was dumb, but hell, Jos, so was I. By the time we got to our dorm, he had me convinced. We walked back to the diner, but you two were gone."

I nod. "Jake took me home."

Van's eyes shutter closed and he stops moving. "I'm a damn hypocrite, but please don't tell me what happened next."

There's a thread of desperation woven into his words. I've felt it, too. Every time a group of girls dropped by our tutoring session or, even now when they ogle him and pay no attention to me, although I'm standing right next to him. If you'd peel back the layers of our relationship, the years between then and now, you'd find heartache, for sure. Teenage emotions. Problems that felt insurmountable at the time, but really, looking back, aren't nearly as daunting or all-encompassing as they seemed. We should have talked. It comes down to that. But that's not as simple as it sounds.

"Nothing happened between Jake and me. About five minutes after we sat down, I told him I had a headache and needed to go back to my dorm. He insisted on walking me there. I didn't give him a kiss or a hug. I didn't accept his offer of another date. I barely thanked him. And it wasn't an awful date. It was fine. He was fine. He just wasn't you.

"I got up to my room and took off my clothes. I didn't shower or put on my pajamas. I just crawled into bed. I couldn't get you off my mind. I kept picturing you and remembering…I was restless and I couldn't sleep or relax, so I closed my eyes and let my hands wander over my body."

Van's blue eyes are full of heat. "So when I was standing outside the diner, hating myself for not getting there sooner, you were in your bed thinking about me and touching yourself?"

"I was," I tell him honestly. There's no need for shyness, not with Van. Not now.

He bites down on his lip and grinds his body against mine once more. "I'm either the luckiest bastard alive or I'm fucking cursed. Show me what you did, Jos," he says, lifting me just enough to tug his sweats down and toss them to the floor. He settles me back on his lap and props his legs up so his feet are on the mattress.

Leaning back on his thighs, I put my hand on my sex and trace my folds.

"Fuck, Josie, don't stop."

"You want me to?—"

Van's voice is low and hungry when he cuts me off. "Do I want you to come all over your hand and then stroke my dick? Yeah, I do. Is that what you want, too?"

"Yes," I answer, letting my eyes flutter closed as my mind wanders back to that night. I slide my hand a little deeper to ease the ache between my thighs.

"What if I'd have followed you back to the dorm, just to make sure you were okay? Jesus. Is this what I would've seen if I'd have been in your room that night?"

His words ignite something in me—something I didn't even know was there. I know this is all a fantasy, that he'd never really follow me or stand in the shadows of my room. But the idea is forbidden and I like it. I tease myself by circling my clit before sliding two fingers inside myself. It's no substitute for what Van's touch does to me, but it makes me feel good all the same. I let my legs fall open as my fingers explore. I'm wet and ready for him, but if this were three years ago, I'd have to finish what I started all by myself.

"Were you quiet, Jos?" he asks, his voice a rough whisper. "Did you bite down on your pillow or hold back your moans so no one would know what you were up to?"

I shake my head. "I can't be quiet. Not with you. Not even when I think about you."

"Tell me, Jos. Take me there. I want to know what set you off. I want to know what images ran through your filthy, brilliant mind that made you come. I'm picturing it, too. Both of us in your room that night. Me with my back propped up against your wall. I can't touch you, but fuck, I want to. I'm watching every move, memorizing it all so I can use it to make you feel good if I'm ever lucky enough to get my hands on your body again."

His hands grip my hips, holding me in place while I let the fantasy take over. "I was picturing you on my bed, pressed up against me. It was your hand between my legs, touching and teasing. You were being lazy about it, like we had all the time in the world. Like I could have an orgasm from your hands or lips or dick anytime I wanted it."

" Jesus . You can, Jos. All you want. Any way you want them."

"That's what I needed. I needed you."

"You have me, Jos," he says, his voice raw, desperate.

I open my eyes and the sight is erotic. My fingers glisten at my entrance and his cock strains just inches away. I reach for him and stroke his cock once, twice before he lifts my hips and enters me with one perfect thrust.

There's no more talking. Our bodies move together like they were never apart. I press my chest to his and he meets my lips with a kiss. My pleasure is in his hands now and I surrender completely. He snakes his hand between us to play with my clit and the sensation is too much. I fall over the edge, my inner walls squeezing him tight. We mumble words and phrases, praise and need as we lose ourselves in each other.

My body is so full, so tight, so ready for everything he wants to give me. And Van doesn't disappoint. He grinds his pelvis against mine, the friction teasing my oversensitive mound in the very best way. His eyes lock on mine as he enters me again and again.

"Gonna come, Jos. So hard. So fucking?—"

His words turn into shouts and the strength of his orgasm sets off another in me. No one else has ever made me feel half this good.

An hour later, we've showered and fallen asleep in his bed. Well, Van's asleep. I'm getting there. My mind is processing the last few days, the last few hours, the fact that this beautiful, incredible man is all mine.

I used to wonder how we ever got together. Now I can't imagine us apart.

Sure, we still have work to do. The loving part is easy, it's all the other emotions that make a relationship hard. There's jealousy on both sides, but we're working our way past it and that's all we can do. I've been hesitant for so long, in so many ways, but I'm committed now. I'm not letting fear or anxiety ruin what we have. Van loves me and I love him and we'll work through the tough parts together.

That's what couples do.

It's what my mom and dad did. Thinking about them isn't easy, but I can't avoid it, especially not today. They loved each other completely. They fought. They annoyed each other. They had different interests. But their love never wavered, not even that night. I knew they'd go together to get Levi—it's just what they did. If Dad could make Mom listen to podcasts for a two-hour trip, he would. And I know Mom made him stop on the way up for some apple pie at Mabel's Diner. It was her favorite. Dad used to say the car just pulled into Mabel's parking lot all on its own.

So maybe one way to honor my parents is to love the way they did. I'm not always the bravest, but I'm loyal to my core. Van is my person and I'm holding on tight this time.