Page 27 of Wrong Place, Wright Time
“What on earth is happening here?” Darren asks as Isla shakes her head and points at the giant pad of paper, unable to find her voice she’s laughing so hard. When we look, it’s to find a crude drawing of a dick and balls.
“It’s not what it looks like, I swear!” Theo says, holding up a hand as his eyes move between Darren and I.
“So you didn’t create a dick pic for our female guest?”
“No!” he insists. “I was trying to draw minions. But I suck at drawing and well, without the yellow, they ended up looking like a dick.”
Darren rolls his eyes as we place the snacks and wine back on the coffee table and sit back on the floor with the other. “Lucky you’re pretty to look at, Theo Casey,” he says, leaning over to give his man a light kiss, just as Isla gets herself under control and reaches for a pretzel on the table, munching on it while Darren and Theo exchange a few loving words along with their moment. I look at her, wishing for something exactly the same but knowing that as things are right now, I’m never going to get it.
Darren is right. It’s time to take a risk. Even if it means I lose it all.
Isla
With his mouth against mine, Banks moves inside me with long sensual,slowthrusts. Most of the time when we have sex, there’s a certain amount of urgency, dirty words followed up by friends directions like we can’t wait to finish so we can take a break and do it all again. At this time… It’s different… It’s like he’s purposely taking his time, drawing it out in a way that makes us feel a lot more like lovemaking than pure sex. It’s beautiful. But at the same time, the intensity kind of scares me.
After Banks and Darren came out of the kitchen earlier tonight, the atmosphere of the evening sombered somewhat. Before then, we’d been talking and laughing as a group, and I was feeling so glad that I agreed to a night out for a change. But then, when our wine glasses and snack bowls were refilled, we went back to the game, and despite the laughter and the jokes still being there, there was this undercurrent that made me wonder if maybe I’d done something to annoy Banks, or if maybe I’d insulting Darren somehow and he didn’t like me… I tried running back through the evening as much as possible and I was at a loss as to what I’d done, which means that something else might have happened. But when I questioned Banks on the way back to my place, he assured me that everything was fine. He just had a few things on his mine.
But now, as he works through whatever those ‘things’ are on my body, I swear I can feel his emotions leeching in through my skin. This love making feels like sadness and longing. It feels like confusion and discontent. But most of all, it feels different. It feels like things are changing.
I’m not ready for things to change.
Banks
With Isla’s warm, slumbering body sleeping next to mine, I stare up the ceiling of her bedroom, just holding her like I might never get the chance to do it again. It's highly probable that I won't. After the way she reacted when I brought up the subject of children, I think she's been more than clear about her stance on relationships and spending her life with another person. For me, the reward for taking a risk on love feels like the ultimate gain. But for Isla, a woman who's already taken that risk and lost twice before, I realize that the risk just may not be worth it for her anymore. Which means that maybe I'm not worth it. And as much as I don't like the prospect, I think I need to walk away from that.
Glancing over to the bedside table, the numbers on the LED clock flash a green 3:16 AM. I'm obviously never going to sleep tonight, so I slowly extricate myself from around Isla’s body and get out of bed, pulling on my boxers before I pad out into the kitchen in bare feet.
As I'm filling a glass with cold water from the fridge, I hear movement behind me.
“Can't sleep?” Isla asks, stopping on the other side of the island counter.
“Not really. You need a drink?” I hold out the water glass to her and she moves around the island to take it from me.
“Thank you.”
“No problem,” I say, grabbing another and filling it. When I replace the jug in the fridge and close it, I turn to face her, finding her sitting on top of the counter with her glass cradled between two hands.
“Want to tell me what's on your mind?” she asks, one finger tracing small circles in the condensation.
“I think it can wait until morning,” I say. “You should get some sleep.”
“Looks to me like we're already awake and that clock says it's morning, so...” She bounces a shoulder and takes another sip of water.
I take a deep breath then drink down the entirety of my water, stepping up to the island bench and standing beside her, placing my empty glass in the sink before gripping the edge of the marble counter and flexing my arms. Why can't I find the words?
“Hey,” she says soothingly, placing a cool hand on my back. “Whatever is on your mind, you can tell me, OK? We’re best friends, right?”
I smile, rocking on the soles of my feet as I gather every drop of courage I’ve ever had in me and force myself to meet her eyes. “I’ve fallen in love with you.”
The serene smile she had on her face a moment ago morphs into one of surprise and confusion. “What does that mean?” she asks, her brow creasing as she sets her glass to the side.
“Exactly that. I’m in love with you, Isla. I love the way you smile, and the way you laugh. I love that you’re a homebody and I love that you’re willing to learn new things. I love listening to you talk about work. And I love watching you eat food. Hell, I love watching you brush your hair and pick your nose.”
“Idon’tpick my nose,” she interjects, which is when I move so I’m standing between her knees, placing my hands on her thighs.
“You do a little. Everyone does a little,” I say with a smirk, and she rolls her eyes.
“I am not admitting to that.”
