I close her hotel room door with a frustrated sigh. I'm hurt, angry, sad, horny. A lot of fucking things right now. I really do mean it when I tell Monica that she makes me feel all of the things. She really does. All of them. Whether I like those specific feelings or not.
"Aaron?" I freeze at the sound of his voice.
This has got to be a joke. Of all the hotels, all of the bars, and all of the fucking hallways...
This is my luck.
I turn to see a confused professor a few feet away from me. He's looking between me and the door like he's trying to put the pieces together. I take a couple of steps toward him, until I'm far enough way from the door that Monica can't hear me.
I point to myself saying, "the loser who married her but can't give her the future she wants." His brow knits together, looking even more addled than before. "I'm her husband, Boston, not some guy named Aaron. The girl I'm still hung up on?" I point to the door, "well, that'd be my wife, Monica, the woman you're currently trying to get to fall for you."
"Did Monica know you'd be in town or something? She told me you live in Las Vegas." According to Vikki, I still should be, but no, I'm here. Because this is my luck.
"It's one hell of a fucking coincidence, actually. Kismet, if you will." It's always fucking kismet with Monica. "Although, the two of us do have some rather fond memories here." His features tell me he doesn't like that. "What I said to you at the bar wasn't a lie. I'm in town to open up a new shop that's why I'm staying here." I gesture to the hotel around us.
"So, then, what the hell were you doing in her room? How did you even know what room she's staying in?" He checks his watch and his features harden. "Especially at this hour."
Oh he's getting angry now.
"I wasn't doing her, if that's what you really want to ask." I wouldn't have been opposed to it, which makes me add, "we are married, though, so I don't think us having sex should really be that much of an issue for you." He just glares at that because it is most definitely an issue for him. "No need to get your panties in a twist, professor, I was just having a long overdue conversation."
"You two finally getting divorced, then?" I could punch him in the face.
"Unfortunately for you, no, no we're not. But we're still separated." He looks relieved. "Be careful with her, professor. Don't break her heart. She doesn't need another person doing that to her." I go to walk around him but he grabs ahold of my arm. I look down at his firm grip, wanting to grab his wrist and tear it off of me.
"Why lie to me at the bar? Why try and get to know me if you already knew who I was?" He sounds irritated and I don't blame him. I'd hate to see my semi-girlfriend's husband walk out of her hotel room too. This really is the oddest of situations.
"If you knew I was her husband there's no way you would've told me you almost fucked her, would you've?" I jerk my arm out of his grasp when he just stares at me blank-faced. "I didn't think so. You seem like a decent enough guy, Derek. Don't fuck with her or I will fuck you up." I don't let him respond before walking away from him.
I hate the fact that I'm walking away from a guy who's about to walk into Monica's room. Who knows what will happen after he does. Would she sleep with him like she said she was going to? Could she do that after seeing me? After I'd held her in my arms? Knowing Monica— probably not.
After what had transpired between us I know there will be no falling into Amanda's bed any time soon, if ever again. Because seeing her again awakened all those feelings I thought I'd shoved far down, brought them all to the surface. The anger I'd been feeling for both her and myself turning into something else entirely with her standing directly in front of me.
For the first time, in nearly half a year, I can finally feel my heart beat inside of my chest. It's the best and worst sensation I've had in a very long time, but I embrace it. At least it feels something again.
✩✩✩
I gave her the address to the shop, not wanting to have an awkward exchange with her at the hotel. I didn't want to go to her room or meet up in the lobby. The possibility of one of us running into the person fooling around with our spouse was highly plausible if we did that.
Who knew if she and Derek had finally done the deed last night, not that I would blame her, okay maybe a part of me would be resentful, but I'd really rather not see his cocky face if they had. The 'I just banged your wife' face was not one I'd like to be privy to. Ever.
Then there was Amanda. Who knew how Monica would react seeing or meeting the girl I've been with. On the other hand, I didn't know how Amanda would react to Monica. At least the professor and I had already been acquainted. I'd met the guy who's touched her in areas only I'd touched her before.
I roll out the tension in my neck from the visual my mind just casted. I hate it.
Amanda was different than the professor though. Her and I had an understanding. I have a feeling if she knew Monica and I were meeting up she'd feel some sort of way about it. I'm not entirely sure what way that would be, but still. From what she's relented, she'd not care at all.
Now that Monica and I are talking again, we don't need to muddle it up right off the bat with our 'spousal limbo' or whatever. It was all pretty fucking muddled as it were, especially after my little exchange with the professor last night.
I spear a hand through my hair restlessly at my thoughts as I pace the shop in anticipation. I'm glad when I hear a knock at the door, knowing I'll soon be rid of the eccentric carousel of thoughts going round and round in my head. In less than three strides I'm answering the door and the moment I do I want to wrap her in my arms for a hug. A hug and other things.
The skirt and thigh-high tights she's wearing are killing me right now. She's wearing converse, like usual, making her look small to my large size. Her hair is in a tight ponytail on top of her head.
Her hair is perfect for grabbing ahold of while...
"Hey."
I cough, dispelling my previous thought. I open the door a little wider and gesture for her to enter with, "hey there, stranger, come on in." My voice is overly excited, even to my own ears. She gives me an unsure look before coming inside and I mentally chastise myself.
Hey there, stranger? You sound like and idiot. I mean, it was definitely better than uttering what was really on my mind... right? Right.
"So, this is the place?" She's got her hands wrung together behind her back as she walks around. "This is really nice. I like it a lot."
"Yup. This is the place."
"You have a name picked out yet?" I grab my sketchbook and hand it to her, specifically to the last page where I'd sketched up a design for the logo. Her eyes scan the image in appreciation. "Love me tatted?"
"Yeah, a play on—"
"Love me tender. I know, Boston." She looks up from the page and gives me a genuine smile. I have missed the sight so much. "The realistic heart and singing Elvis skull are really cool looking, very you."
I let out a wry laugh, "yeah, a guy who looks like Elvis, one that's probably going to die of a heart condition. A bit too linear, if you ask me, but the design is definitely an accurate representation of me, for sure." She purses her lips. "Sorry, that was a bit morbid."
"So, who's going to be running this shop while you're in Vegas?" I gnaw at my lip wondering if I should tell her my thought process.
"I think I'm going to."
"But you'd have to start all over again and build up your reputation around here." I shrug at that. "You've already got so much clientele in Vegas."
"I was thinking about alternating between shops but I just wanted something new, a change of scenery." Vikki had said she thought a part of me wanted to be closer to what I'd experienced with Monica while I was here. Maybe there was some truth to that.
"Yeah, I get that. I enjoyed studying abroad for that reason. Different languages, culture. It was nice."
Also a professor to play with... Don't go there.
"What about you? What are your plans for next semester?" I couldn't help but ask even though I'd overheard part of her conversation last night. "You staying in Virginia? Going abroad again?" The real question I wanted to ask— are you going to be with the professor?
"I'm not sure." She walks away from me, sketchbook still in hand, and starts flipping through the pages. Fuck. "I'm thinking about maybe taking a semester off. I'm not sure."
"Monica, wait, don't go through that..." I quickly walk up behind her before she can get too far through the pages but it's too late. She's stopped in the middle of the shop, looking over sketches of herself. She continues to invade my private, intimate drawings of her as she goes through my work. "Uhm, yeah..." I cup the back of my neck uneasily. "I didn't think you were going to go through that."
She fingers one of the pages, a mixture of her, her tattoo, song lyrics. My throat is completely dry. I should've never just handed over the sketch book. Now I look like a fucking creep.
This is awesome. Just fucking splendid. 'Hey haven't seen you for a while but I still draw naked images of you'. Why is my luck so shit lately?
"You weren't supposed to keep going. I didn't think you would." I swallow an extremely uncomfortable lump in my throat when she doesn't say anything. She flips up again, now on a page of her naked body. I'm now realizing what a fucking idiot I am to sketch her in the same sketchbook I do my work.
"Is this how you see me?" Her voice is barely audible.
"What do you mean?"
"Like this?" She hands me the book and I look over her naked form, sated smile on her face. One of my favorite memories of her.
"I still don't understand the question." I close it and toss it on the chair next to me, feeling semi-humiliated.
"Is that how you see me?" Her eyes are filled with tears. I reach out for her and she takes a step back.
"I'm sorry I should've never shown you. I should've—"
"No, they're beautiful, Boston." She's still blinking back the moisture in her eyes. "You see me so beautifully." I take a step closer and this time she doesn't step away.
"I don't understand." I'm honestly so lost.
"They're too perfect looking."
I take her hand in mine. "They're you."
"I am not perfection."
"In my eyes, you are the most perfect thing." I caress her cheek with my thumb. If she were looking through my eyes she'd see nothing else which makes me think of something else. "I'm sorry I can't be perfect for you." My words are like stabbing myself in the chest. "I think about you all of the time. I want to be with you all of the time. I've been so angry with you but even angrier with myself for shutting you out."
She steps closer and wraps her arms around me, hugging me close. "You've always been perfect to me."
"Unfortunately for me, that is not true."
"But you are."
"I'm completely imperfect, Monica. I'm aware." She looks up at me and those green gems of eyes hold too much emotion. "I'm sorry." I lean down and kiss her, asking for forgiveness, acceptance and she gives it to me. My hands roam her body, down to the bottom of skirt. I tease the skin on the back of her thighs as our mouths work in time with one another, tongues tangling. When I boldly go underneath the fabric there, I find she's only wearing a thong. "You wore this on purpose." I snap the string of her thong.
She pulls away from me, "maybe I did. Maybe I didn't."
"Dirty girl." She looks away from me with flushed cheeks. "What is it?"
"Only for you, I swear."
"It's my big dick energy, just radiating from my pores, I know." She bursts out laughing. "Way to bruise a man's already wounded ego."
"I'm sorry." She laughs a little more. I honestly don't mind because with each vibration her booty jiggles in my hands.
"Better be!" I give her buns a tight squeeze, making her gasp. "You should come here and help me open up shop." I blurt it out and she she freezes. "Take it off and spend it with me."
"What?"
"You. Here. With me."
A/N:
Happy Tuesday!
What do you all think of Boston's proposal?