Good Sensations (8 page)

Birds are singing. Go away, happy birds. I’m tired and worn down, physically and somewhat emotionally. Life with Evan has always been emotional but his mother’s call yesterday is weighing heavy on my heart.

A shadow moves across my closed lids, causing my eyes to flutter open in the early hours of the morning. Evan is standing next to my desk in only his underwear. He’s scanning the pictures on my corkboard—my collage of Evan and the ones of us. He’s smiling, completely unaware that I’m watching him.

Sitting up on my elbows, the shuffle of the sheets alerts him and he looks over his shoulder, then points back at one of the pictures of him. It’s one of my favorites though I’d find it hard to actually pick just
one
favorite of him.

“When did you take this?”

“I don’t remember,” I answer, trying to clear my scratchy morning voice away.

“Liar,” he teases.

I smile, remembering exactly when I took the picture. I remember everything about Hawaii and the world we created there.

“I didn’t know you took so many pictures. You’re all ninja like with the camera.”

I sit up all the way, not caring that the sheet slides down my chest, exposing my breasts in the dim light sneaking in from the outside.

He slowly exhales, walking to the side of the bed and sitting next to me. “Lie down,” he instructs, stroking my hair behind my shoulder, his fingers caressing my skin.

When I lay down, he slides under the covers with me, cuddling against, his bare skin to mine. I feel him harden against my thigh I’ve so casually draped on top of him. He doesn’t move. Like me, I can tell that this is enough for him.

We lay there until the clock clicks and the dreaded hour arrives. Ten a.m. His flight is at noon, so he needs to leave.

Showering together, actually showering—we wash our hair and clean our bodies. No time for antics or sex this morning. I’m kind of disappointed, but something today feels different. I want to say we feel more solid, but I won’t allow myself to think those words as he’s leaving because then it would make me think I didn’t believe we were solid before.

By ten twenty-five, we’re dressed and he’s standing at my door, suitcase in hand. He pre-arranged a car to take him to the airport, not wanting to relive the torture of another goodbye as much as I don’t. So we pretend this isn’t happening and say our goodbye casually as if we’ll see each other tomorrow… or the next day. After a kiss that quickly escalates into a few body grinds, he leaves, shutting the door behind him and leaving me standing there in the middle of my living room alone.

I stand there like a fool for at least five minutes trying to get my emotions in check. It doesn’t work. I’m unsure what I’m supposed to do with myself. This apartment was starting to feel like home before Evan showed up. Now it feels empty without him, barren like my chest.

The door bursts open, startling me, and Evan runs in, grabbing me so hard that I’m squeezed against him with my feet off the ground. He kisses me with a passion that hasn’t been necessary until this moment.

Setting me down abruptly, he grabs the sides of my face, looking deep into my eyes, and says, “I love you, Mallory. I need you to know that I will
always
love you. No matter what.”

November 1
st
.

November 1
st
.

November 1
st
.

37 days.

It’s been 37 excruciating days since I last held her. It’s been 37 days since I last kissed her. 38 days since I was a part of her and we were one.
Fuck!

Jogging through Central Park isn’t doing it for me anymore, but the pub across the street from the Ashford Holdings building is, so I veer off path and go straight there.

I’m working long days for my dad and still trying to stay in shape by jogging. But every part of me needs to
‘get wet’
—fucking soaked to the core. Water has been my salvation for as long as I can remember. I feel lost without it. Mallory helped that need to be buried under water go away, but now I have neither—no ocean or Mallory to submerge myself in.

“You’re too young to become a drunk. Go home.” The bartender says this to me every time I come in here, which seems to be more frequent lately. He’s right, but I need to bury reality into a haze of numbness. I miss her… we don’t talk like we used to. She tries. I’ll give her credit there, but I’m usually stuck in a meeting, and can’t take it. It pisses me off.

I chase the whiskey with a beer and head home. Walking into my apartment, I toss the keys on the console and plop down on the couch, fully suited, and loosen my tie. Sitting in the dark and silence, I will myself not to go to my room. The computer’s in there and if I walk through that door I’ll want to logon and then I’ll be disappointed because she’s not home. She has midterms and she’s studying crazy weird hours and the one thing I swore I wouldn’t do is mess with her studies. That needs to be her priority right now, not me, even though I selfishly I want to come first.

Fuck, I need to get wet.
I need to surf and feel that harmony with the ocean. I need to clear my head and getting lost in a wave never sounded so damn good.

The door opens and in walks Kate, along with Lacey, one of her high school friends. I can’t say I’m happy to see Lacey. We have a past. We fucked once, which was a mistake, so I’m not in the mood to deal with her tonight.

With a smile, she comes. “Hi, Evan.”

“I’d stay away from him. He’s been a moody bastard lately,” Kate warns, walking down the hall to her room.

“I’m right here, by the way,” I yell, annoyed she’s talking about me like I’m not even in the room.

“How’s it going?” Lacey asks, sitting down on the couch.

“Fine,” I grumble completely disinterested in having a conversation with her.

Her weight shifts on the couch and I look to find that she sat down while trying on a coy smile, which doesn’t suit her. “Glad to see you’re back in New York,” she says.

I ignore her because Kate is right. I am a moody fucking bastard these days.

And she’s persistent, but she always has been. “Do you want to come out with us tonight? We’re going to see some of the old gang.”

“I have a girlfriend,” I state flatly, hoping to end this one-sided conversation. I know her too well. She doesn’t make small talk unless she wants something and everything about her tells me that she’s not looking to start an in-depth discussion.

“I thought you didn’t
do
girlfriends?” She asks skeptically.

She’s right, I used to not
do
them, but that was before I met someone worth having as a girlfriend. For her, my sarcastic side rears its ugly head, and I remark, “I’m moody because I’m not
doing
my girlfriend right now.”

“I see. So this bad mood is about you not getting laid. You’re horny?” she says, her hand suddenly on my thigh. “I can help you out in that department. I’ve learned a few new tricks since we were last together.”

Scoffing, I say, “A few
new
tricks? It was so bad three years ago that if memory serves me right, there was only room for improvement. So thank God you learned some ‘new tricks’ because the old ones fucking sucked and not in a good way.”

She stands, stomping down the hall to Kate’s bedroom, but bothers to stop and yell, “You’re an asshole, Evan Ashford. Go to hell!”

I’m still laughing when Kate walks out of her room, down the hall, and straight up to me flicking me really hard on the forehead. “Don’t fuck with my friends, Evan, or should I call you Sourpuss?” She turns and goes back to her room where Lacey is probably waiting to bitch about me.

“You call me that again and you’re gonna finally meet FootUpYourAss, Katherine.” I threaten her even though I know that if she really wants to, Kate can put up a good fight. I lie back on the couch and laugh at how entertaining this has been.

With a much better disposition in place, I go to my room and turn on my laptop. I login to video chat and see Mallory is online, so I ping her.

She comes to life before my eyes. I recently installed a twenty-nine inch monitor, so she would be bigger for my personal enjoyment.

“Evan.”

“Mallory.”

She smiles, lighting up my whole heart, and I tell her, “You have an amazing smile.”

Tilting her head, she smiles again, a pink creeping up her neck and onto her cheeks. “Stop, you’re making me blush.”

“I’ll never stop and I hope you always blush for me.”

She’s embarrassed and changes the topic, her usual reaction when she feels she’s getting too much attention. “How was your day?”

“I don’t want to talk about that. Nothing matters but this call right now.”

“Then what do you want to talk about?” she asks.

“I just want to look at you and hear your voice.”

“You cut your hair. It’s a lot shorter.”

I ruffle my hand on the side of my head. “Yeah, I cut it yesterday. I was told it wasn’t professional.”

“I like it. You look… older, definitely more professional.” Eyeing me, she adds, “You look like you’ve lost weight.”

“I took up running. I couldn’t stand sitting at that desk and not moving all day.”

Shaking her head, she looks contemplative. “You didn’t need to lose any.”

“It’s the running. How about you?” When I visited, she’d lost a few pounds and her face is looking even thinner now.

“I’m eating my veggies, if that’s what you’re asking,” she says sarcastically.

“Mallory?”

“Yeah?”

“I just care about you.”

Her expression softens and her sweet smile reappears. “I care about you, too, but what’s with all the seriousness tonight?”

“We promised to talk every day,” I point out, then bite the inside of my cheek.

“I had mid-terms. I told you I’d be busy in the evenings. I’ve called you every day though.” She’s not defensive but sounds remorseful.

“We didn’t talk last Wednesday.”

“You remember that?”

“Yeah, I remember and there have been other days we didn’t talk.” When she looks away, I can tell I’m making her defensive, which is not what I intended to do. “Know that I notice because I miss you.”

“I mis—”

“Hey Evan, knock knock.” Kate barges in. “We’re leaving to go to the salon. The car will be downstairs at 7. I’m riding with Lacey. I’ll see you there. Oh, is that Mallory?” Kate practically pushes me out of the way. “Hey there, how’s it going?”

“Good, but crazy with mid-terms and stuff like that,” Mallory replies, looking happy again. “Kate, you never got back to me about your plans for Thanksgiving.”

“Murphy’s flying in,” Kate replies. “What about you?”

“I promised my parents I’d come home since I didn’t for my birthday.”

“That’s too bad. Well, let’s try to plan something soon. I hate to cut this short, but I’ve gotta run. We have a fundraiser tonight and I’m about to be late for my hair appointment. Good to see you. Call me, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure. Bye,” Mallory says to her before my sister disappears out the door.

I slide my chair back in front of the monitor as Kate warns over her shoulder, “Evan, don’t be late.”

“I won’t. Go!” I turn back to Mallory who’s looking unsettled.

“What about you, Evan? You haven’t answered my emails about Thanksgiving. I take it you can’t come?” Her voice is detached from emotion. She’s put up a wall. I don’t blame her for wanting to protect herself.

Anyway, she’s right. I’ve avoided this topic on purpose. “I can’t come.”

“I knew you probably wouldn’t be able to make it,” she says and sighs. “But why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I tried to get the time off, baby, but there was an agreement I made when I took the time off to visit for your birthday.”

“Dad, please let me go. I’ll work every weekend in December if I have to,” I say, running my hands carelessly through the hair that remains. This ‘professional’ hair doesn’t give me the same satisfaction my longer hair did.

“No, Evan. I already granted you vacation days you hadn’t earned and that was the deal you agreed to. You need to learn to live with your decisions. I’m sure Mallory would be happy to come here instead. Your mother is making a rack of lamb.”

“You mean Jean-Luc is making a rack of lamb.”

“Your rude comments are not welcome in my office,” he says, finally looking up from his paperwork. “I’m very busy, Evan. My decision is final.”

I turn, outwardly sighing and let my frustration be heard.

“That’s fine,” Mallory says.

“I tried to get out of work. I really did.”

“I know you did, babe, and I appreciate it. I know your job and family are demanding.” She looks down. “I miss you so much. I’m starting to feel disconnected. Some days you don’t take my calls and others I don’t see you on chat. Somehow I’m getting used to life without you and it scares me.”

“It’ll be okay. I promise. We’ll see each other at Christmas. I’ll be done with work and we’ll be together again.”

Her tone is harsh, not sounding like her at all, when she looks at the clock over her shoulder and says, “Kate said the car will be there in twenty minutes to pick you up. You should go.”