KD Robichaux- Wish he was you (The Blogger Diaries Trilogy Book 2) Page 5

  I sigh and then take a deep breath before agreeing with a nod.

  “Okay, great…ummm. Well, shit. Now that I can ask, I’m drawing a blank,” he confesses with a smile.

  “I’ll go first then,” I offer, and he nods eagerly. “Tell me about your last girlfriend.”

  He huffs out a short laugh, and then answers, “Well, I would…but I’ve never had one.”

  My head jerks back and I feel my eyebrows pull together with astonishment. “Wait…what?”

  “I mean, I’ve gone on more than one date with the same girl before, but I’ve never been in an actual serious relationship. Never found anyone I wanted to spend that much time with.” He shrugs. “What about you?”

  The abrupt turnaround in the conversation snaps me out of my disbelief, and pain sears from my stomach up to my heart. Feeling like I got sucker-punched, I chug the rest of my wine and light another cigarette. “That bad, huh?” he asks, standing to take my wine glass from me just inside the room through the sliding glass door, where the bottle sits in the mini fridge. He refills it to the top and hands it to me, sliding the door closed again.

  “You have no idea. Thanks,” I say, giving him a cheers against his Bud Light bottle.

  “You don’t have to answer. I’ll ask something el—”

  “No, that’s okay,” I interrupt. “It might be therapeutic.” He gives me a gesture to continue, and I take another deep breath, trying to sort in my mind what exactly to say. I don’t want to reveal too much. I don’t want him to know just how much Jason meant to me, what he still means to me, but I would like him to know why I space out sometimes. At least twice a day, he pulls me out of my head with his gentle question of ‘Where’d you go?’

  “There was a guy in Texas I got really close to. He…he became important to me, like…he was my best friend. I developed feelings for him, but he didn’t feel the same way. It’s kind of stupid to be heartbroken over someone you weren’t even in a real relationship with, right? But here I am. I’ll get over it. It just sucked not having the feelings returned is all.” I try to make light of what really happened, hoping he won’t sense there was much, much more to the situation than what I was giving him, and I breathe a sigh of relief when he asks a different question, until I hear what the actual question is.

  “When was the last time you had sex?”

  “Wow, you move right to the juicy stuff, huh?” I ask, trying to stall while deciding if I’ll tell him the truth, or feed him some bullshit to save face.

  “That definitely wasn’t on the questionnaire you sent me,” he laughs.

  I purse my lips together and narrow my eyes. “You first,” I bargain.

  He smirks at me, and then gives in. “About a month ago.”

  I wait for him to elaborate, but he’s not forthcoming, so I prompt, “And…”

  “Oh, you want details. Is that a good idea? I mean, you’re not one of those girls who hunt down exes like a crazy stalker, are you?” he jokes.

  “According to you, you don’t have any exes,” I remind him.

  “Touché. It was just some girl who came to one of the weekend parties. She was a friend of one of my buddies, and it was a one-time thing. Horrible. Would definitely never happen again.”

  “What was so horrible about it?” I ask curiously.

  “We were both entirely too drunk…aaand I got a good look at her without my drunk goggles on the following weekend.”

  I scoff at that and call him a douche, and after he laughs, he reminds me it’s my turn to answer the question. I never told him when exactly I got back home, so I flub the timing a little bit and answer, “Mine was also about a month ago. Friend with benefits on my drive home. Stopped in Florida to visit with him, got really drunk, and it just kind of happened.” I hold my breath for his reaction, and exhale silently when he gives me a chin lift.

  “Totally been there. Not Florida, but in Michigan. Went home to visit my dad on leave and ended up getting drunk with an old high school friend,” he reveals.

  With the wine flowing through my veins like a lazy river, I feel brave and ask what has been on my mind since we started spending so much time together. “You just said you’ve never had a real relationship because you hadn’t met anyone you wanted to see that much. Well, we’ve been talking and hanging out nearly every day since we met two weeks ago, and here I am, spending the weekend with you in Myrtle Beach. Does that mean you might…maybe see this going somewhere?”

  He looks out at the ocean for a moment, then reaches behind his head and rubs the back of his neck, looking nervous for the first time since I met him. I’m about to rebuke my question, when he finally stands, comes over to my side of the table, and then stoops down in front of me.

  “That’s actually why I invited you down here. I…it sounds corny, but I wanted to ask you if you’d like to be my girlfriend.” He looks up at me with those beautiful hazel eyes, and I see a little bit of fear mixed with hope.

  How long? How fucking long did I wait to hear that question come from the lips of the man my heart belongs to? How many times did I drive down to Friendswood from Kingwood thinking, Today is the day! wishing and praying it would finally be the day Jason would ask me to be his girl.

  And now, after only two weeks, this sweet, handsome, likeable guy, who had never asked anyone to be his girlfriend before, readily offered me the question I longed to be asked for months upon months by another man. Was this some sort of sick joke God was playing on me? I can’t help the little bit of anger I feel, mostly towards Jason. Why couldn’t he have just loved me the way I loved him?

  Or maybe this is where I was being led. Was I meant to end up back in North Carolina at that exact time, so I could meet Aiden? Either way, I take a deep breath and throw caution to the wind. Fuck it. Why not? It’s not like the dust pile that was my heart could get any more broken. “I’d really like that,” I tell him with a small smile, which grows bigger when he hollers a “WOOHOO!” over the balcony, turns back toward me, and then lunges up to kiss me.

  It makes me sad that my natural reaction is to jerk away, but I force myself to lean into the kiss, fighting my flight instinct until it eventually goes away. The kiss still doesn’t provoke any profound feeling within me, but it’s a little more content than the one from this morning. I try to draw comfort from just the closeness of being wrapped in the arms of another human being, and it begins to work.

  Focusing all of my attention on the physical act of what we are doing—lips pressed against mine, tongue delving into my mouth, calloused hands skimming up my arms, up my neck, and into my hair, a warm, muscular male body pressing up against the front of my much smaller frame—with the help of the wine now racing through my system, I’m able to push aside all emotion and zero in on my body’s natural instincts, and give in to what Aiden wants.

  Maybe tomorrow it won’t be this hard

  The next morning, instead of waking up to pain in my head, I wake up sore all over. Being the first time having sex with Aiden, I was able to step outside myself and pretend not to have my usual hang-ups, like my self-consciousness and doubts in my sexual abilities. He had no idea what I was normally like in bed, so I let myself become a different person, one of the brave heroines in one of my books, who was self-assured and confident in herself.

  I don’t know if I was utterly shocked or completely expecting it, since it hadn’t happened with my friend in Florida either, but just as before I met Jason, I wasn’t able to reach my orgasm. God knows I tried, even moving us into positions that never failed when Jason and I would heatedly grind ourselves against each other with all-consuming passion. It just wouldn’t happen.

  I fought with myself in the moment, trying to decide whether to fake it like I used to or keep the promise I made myself never to do that again. In the end, it didn’t matter. I don’t think he could tell either way, because he was so engrossed in the pleasure he was feeling himself.

  He was by no means a selfish lover. He made sure to lavis
h me with affectionate kisses and caresses, but it was like he was overwhelmed with what he was experiencing, while I still felt hollow inside, instincts eventually giving way to the realization I was desperately trying to fuck the memories out of my head once again.

  After taking a quick shower together, we watched an action flick on TV. Aiden tried to hold me during the movie, and I let him for a few minutes, but then lightly complained I was hot and rolled over to my side of the bed. I lay there with my eyes closed feigning sleep for the longest time, even after hearing Aiden’s quiet snoring, and even past another movie; I’m not even sure what it was, because all I saw on the backs of my eyelids was the handsome face of my lost love.

  I obviously eventually lost consciousness, because now, as I sit up and look around, trying to get my bearings as I take in the tidy hotel room, I feel groggy and unrested. As far as I know, Aiden doesn’t have any plans for us today. Checkout time is at 11:00am, and I read on the alarm clock beside our bed that it’s a little past ten. When I get home this afternoon, I plan on sleeping through ‘til tomorrow.

  I nudge him on the shoulder and let him know what time it is, and after a dramatic stretch and loud yawn, he looks up at me with a grin on his face. “We have enough time for another round before we leave,” he suggests, waggling his eyebrows at me.

  I fight the frown tickling the corners of my mouth and force a laugh. “You’re insane. I’m too sore from last night’s escapades,” I tell him with as much sensuality as I can muster.

  “You okay?” he asks, sliding himself closer and wrapping his arms around my waist, pressing a kiss to my side. It tickles and sends a shiver throughout my body. He takes it as a sign I might be warming up to the idea of another round after all, and begins sliding one of his hands lower. I swat it away and hop out of bed, wearing a T-shirt and undies, and quickly find my jean shorts to throw on.

  There. Safe from roaming hands, and halting any thoughts of a quickie before we leave. I have to admit the small, probably unconscious pout on Aiden’s face is kind of adorable, but it still doesn’t change my mind about getting ready to leave. I’m ready to be home, where I can call Anni and tell her about yesterday.

  After packing up our few belongings, we drop off the keycard at the front desk and make our way to his Grand Am. We talk every once in a while, but most of the trip back to Fayetteville is spent listening to music, taking turns choosing songs from his giant binder of CDs.

  A couple of hours later, we pull into my parents’ winding driveway. Like a gentleman, he hops out and comes around to my side to open my door, then moves to the trunk to get my bag out for me. When I reach to take it from him, he swings it behind his back and shakes his head, then nods toward my front door.

  Oh, God. He wants to come inside?

  I don’t think I’m ready to introduce my new boyfriend to my family just yet—my dad is probably at the movies, his usual Sunday ritual after church—but Aiden’s really giving me no choice. I don’t want to be a bitch and tell him he can’t come in. I internally sigh and head toward my front porch. We climb the couple of steps to the door, and I use my key to unlock the big, wooden door before giving it a hearty shove inward.

  Aiden follows me in and whistles when he sees we’ve walked into our great room. There are a couple of couches and comfy chairs in a semi-circle around my baby grand piano, and on the wall above it is one of my old pageant portraits. He steps off the carpeted landing and down onto the hardwood floor, moving closer to look at the life-size picture of me in all my 90s, big hair glory, with my gold and rhinestone crown perched on top.

  He turns back to me with a grin and boasts, “Damn, girl! You were smokin’!”

  I snort a laugh and reply, “Thanks, Chester. I was only fifteen in that picture, you perv.”

  He scoffs and looks toward the picture again, exclaiming, “Fifteen?! Are you serious?”

  I nod and start moving farther into my house, past the dining table, and the china hutch displaying all my crowns and sashes, and I can’t help but chuckle when I hear Aiden’s quiet, “Holy shit,” as he catches sight of them.

  “How many pageants have you won?” he asks as we step down into the open-air room holding the kitchen on one side, and the living room on the other.

  “Like twenty-something, but I stopped participating in them after I won the one you just saw the portrait for. It started getting crazy, girls ripping or smearing lipstick on dresses that cost thousands of dollars, breaking high heels just enough that they wouldn’t collapse until they made it up on stage…just cattiness I didn’t want to be a part of. It wasn’t fun anymore. So that’s when I got into rock climbing my freshman year of high school. That was a lot more enjoyable than being around a bunch of snotty girls wearing six pounds of makeup.”

  I look out onto the screened-in back porch, and sure enough, there sit my mom and granny in the rocking chairs, sipping from mason jars of sweet iced tea. So cliché, right?

  I open the left French door and step out onto the porch, looking back at Aiden when he follows me. The look of awe on his face is almost comical as he sees my backyard. After my dad retired from the Navy, he started his own landscaping business. The man doesn’t just mow lawns and trim hedges. No, he designs beautiful gardens that can flat take your breath away, and he spared nothing when it came to our own property.

  We live on several acres of land, with a small lake in our backyard we affectionately call ‘the pond.’ It was a spring-fed stream that my grandfather widened into a sizeable body of water, built the dam and several piers around the perimeter, and stocked it with fish. I grew up here, so it amuses me when new people get their first look of what I’ve seen since I was born. I guess I take it for granted, and catching the expression on their faces makes me remember for a little while how lucky I am to have grown up somewhere so beautiful.

  “Well, there you are, KD girl,” Granny says, still rocking gently in her chair, her silver hair shining in the sunlight making its way through the screens. She and Mom have always called me by my initials. Mom gave me Granny’s name as my middle, Dorothy.

  I force a smile to my lips as I introduce them. “Mom, Granny, this is the guy I was telling you about, Aiden. See? I told you he’d bring me back in one piece,” I joke.

  Aiden walks over to them and sticks out his hand for them to shake, and when Granny takes it in hers, she looks up at him and says, “He better be glad, or I would have found him and given him a ride on my foot.” She cocks one grey eyebrow and glares her still-beautiful blue eyes up at him before letting go of his hand and taking a sip of her iced tea.

  He laughs nervously and backs up to stand beside me, where I’m leaning against Granny’s deep freezer she keeps all her freshly shelled butter beans and peas in.

  “Did y’all have fun?” my mom asks, trying to soften the tension in the air.

  “Yes, it was really pretty down there. Not too hot yet,” I reply. I look over at Aiden and ask him, “You want to take a walk around?”

  “Sure. We’ll make it quick. You look like you could use some rest,” he says, and then follows me as I unlatch the lock on the screen door and make my way down the brick steps into my yard.

  “We’ll be back in a few,” I tell Mom and Granny, and then we start the tour. I show him the gazebo in the center of one of the huge flowerbeds filled with azaleas, shaded by several large oak and pine trees. We take the stone path leading out of the garden that opens out into a giant grassy area, and walk down the slope of the hill to the part of the lake we call ‘the beach.’ Here, there is sand under the water, but if you go too far to either side of the area, or too deep, the floor of the pond is what we’ve always called ‘greenies,’ slimy underwater plant-life that’s always given me the heebs when I’d accidently step into it.

  We take off our sandals and step into the warm water, and I watch happily as Aiden sloshes over to where a swarm of minnows are swimming by the lily pads. He slowly lowers his hands into the water, trying to grab one, but they
jet away from his closing trap. When he steps farther into the greenie-filled area, I smile genuinely when he picks a water lily, bringing it up to his face for a deep inhale of its sweet smell.

  He splashes back over to me and hands me the white flower with a grin on his face. It’s one of my favorite scents, and I thank him quietly as I keep it up to my nose so I can breathe it in for a while as we step out of the water and make our way over to the closest pier. Our paddleboat is tied to the front of it, but I don’t really have it in me to go on a boat ride. Thankfully, it must’ve just rained, because the seats are full of water, and with no towels in sight, cleaning the seats off really isn’t an option. If Aiden asked to go get one, I’d simply tell him we could go next time.

  He doesn’t though, obviously seeing how tired I look, and we climb back up the hill on the opposite side of the yard so he can see into our acres of woods next to our house. Hiking and four-wheeler trails are visible through the trees, and when he asks if we have an ATV, I tell him we don’t but my cousins at the other end of the woods have a couple, and my uncle on the other side of the water has a golf cart. I explain the property is like a Brown family compound. Several of my mom’s brothers—she has six—have their homes surrounding the lake.

  When we get back up to the house, I walk past the screen door to the other side of the yard, so Aiden doesn’t think we’re going back onto the porch. I’m ready for him to leave so I can go up to my room and sleep after I call Anni and fill her in on what happened at the beach. He yells his goodbye to my mom and granny, and after showing him one of the gardens in the front yard, we make our way over to his car.

  He pulls me to him for a hug, and I relax into him, knowing I’ll soon be able to collapse on my bed upstairs. He tucks his hand under my chin and lifts my face to his for a quick kiss on my lips.

  “I had a great weekend with you. I hope we get to do that again soon. I know you’re exhausted, so I’ll call you tomorrow. We can make plans to go dancing on Wednesday again or something,” he says quietly.