Good Morning Heartache (15 page)

He put deep, wet pressure on
her clit, and she moaned and jolted. Her thighs pressed against his cheeks, and
the scratchiness of his beard against her smooth skin aroused her further. He remained
there as her panting became faster and more labored, unyielding until the grips
of orgasm ripped through her, shattering her reality for several moments.

When Alexis came back to
tangibility, a naked Ryan was hovering over her examining her carefully. His
eyes smiled, but his voice was sincere. “Are you ready for me?”

Even the simplest words
escaped her, and all she could do was nod back at him. As he pushed into her,
she arched into his body, forcing herself against the rigidness of his abs and
chest. Alexis grabbed fistfuls of the quilt to keep herself from climaxing
again.

Ryan moved in and out of her
tenderly, and they locked eyes as she let him make love to her like it
mattered. With each pump of his hips, Alexis could feel her body being driven
closer to the edge. She pulled him close to her and gnawed on the curve of his
neck, then his ear. She whispered softly, “More, Ryan, give me more.”

He swept her up into his
arms as he stood, and she wrapped herself around him again. He steadied her
body on the bedroom door, and pushed more completely into her. Alexis cried
out, and he thrust into her with greater vigor.

Her muscles tensed around
him, and he grabbed her bottom lip with his teeth as he throbbed inside of her.
The sensation sent her over the edge, and she exploded before flopping like a
rag doll in his arms.

Chapter 11

The soft light of the rising
sun woke Alexis from peaceful, sound sleep. She blinked several times, trying
to adjust her eyes quickly, and found something in her bed that she hadn’t
found there in over seven years—a man. Upon closer inspection, Alexis realized
that it was not her bed at all, but her parents' beach house bed. It was the
first time in a long time that she felt kind of icky after sex, but it wasn’t
just after sex.

As she looked over at a
sleeping Ryan, his mouth agape and his lungs were taking in deep, cleansing
breaths, she wondered to herself, “What have I done?” She broke a very
important rule: no sleepovers.

Ryan seemed undisturbed by
the dawn and her movements, but she very carefully slid the light blankets off
of her naked body and swung her legs over the side of the bed, hoping not to
wake him. She quickly gathered her clothes that were strewn about the room and
debated with herself as to whether or not she should take the time to put them
on before making her final escape. On the one hand, her bedroom wasn't that
far, and the house was mostly empty. On the other, there was a very good chance
that in her dash down to the other end of the hallway Mick, Sue, or both would
see her nude body in flight.

 Eventually she decided that
it would be worse to be caught by Ryan, and she quickly but quietly opened the
bedroom door, closed it behind her, and booked it down the narrow hallway in
front of three empty bedrooms, a bathroom, the staircase, and finally into the
safety of her own bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

Alexis looked at the alarm
clock on the bedside table. It was just before 5:30. She both loved and hated
the sun at that moment. Looking at her untouched bed, she considered climbing
in and trying to sleep for a little longer, but she knew she’d just be wasting
her time.

She moved to the small
bathroom attached to her bedroom and turned on the shower. It wasn't a
luxurious shower, just a plain pull-the-curtain stall, but it was the only
place where she figured she wouldn't be bothered, at least not for some time,
while she scolded herself.

Is there any way he won't
have misunderstood what happened last night? Why did she do it then?

What made her the angriest
was that she had jeopardized his opinion of her. She didn't mean to lead him
on; she didn't want to be dishonest. In the moments they shared, she didn't
feel like she was doing anything wrong. It didn't feel wrong until now, but
there was no way to express that to someone without hurting their feelings.

She let the water beat down
on her for about half an hour before she submitted to getting out, but it was
only because the hot water had turned unbearably cold. She rushed through her
morning routine, trying not to focus on anything in particular, but rather just
to get it done and face the day that almost certainly had horrible things
waiting for her. She pulled on a bright red cotton dress that stopped mid-calf
and flowed from high on her waist.

Slowly opening the door just
a crack, Alexis bent over as she peered down the hallway, but straightened when
she saw that Ryan’s door was still closed. She hated him a little bit for being
able to sleep in the sunshine and with the gulls squawking. Alexis wanted to
focus on the things that she hated about him—sleeping in, eating three quarters
of the pizza last night—but even those things made him charming.

She went back into her room
and closed the door behind her without a sound. Her bag rested on a small
wooden chair, and she went over to it to pull out her notebook. Might as well
try to be productive while she waited for the inevitable.

Quietly, she tiptoed back
toward the stairs, her gaze shooting to the closed door in front of her with
each creak and groan of the floorboards. It remained unmoving, and there was no
sign that the room's occupant was doing anything other than sleeping.

Alexis chose a round stone
table to sit at on the covered porch facing the ocean. Her tan had deepened
enough for the weekend, and the sun was starting to wear on her. She took a
deep breath, and her senses were filled with the salty grit of the ocean. As
she exhaled she wrote “Once upon a time” but instead of stopping, her pen
continued to scribble across and then down the page forming letters, words, and
sentences.

Loneliness. She wrote about
the tragedy of being so completely alone. About being in a crowd and not being
noticed and living each day with the hope that someone would approach and wish
to be a part of one’s life.

Tearing through pages she
kept writing, occasionally ripping out a page, crumbling it up, and throwing it
on the table. But it didn't discourage her. It inspired her. The constant
movement of the waves crashing on the beach and the wind off the water encouraged
her further.

There was deep pain in her
character, and while Alexis knew exactly who the character was—as well as she
knew herself—she didn't know where she was going or what was going to happen to
her until she got there. Though Amelia, the protagonist, died alone, her death
didn't go unnoticed. She watched from heaven as hundreds showed up to her
funeral because she touched their lives, and she hadn't even realized it. She
didn't realize how much the world wanted to be a part of her life, as much as
she wanted it to be a part.

As Alexis wrote the final
sentence, she pushed her pen firmly into the page to mark her completeness with
a big fat period. She smiled at the notebook. It didn't matter if what she
wrote was any good. She wrote something. There was black ink mussing up page
after page, and she loved it.

When she looked up from the
pages, Alexis saw that Ryan was standing at the corner of the house staring at
her. She figured she probably looked like a mess. She had pulled herself into a
ball on the armless folding chair. Her hair had air dried with help from the
dense breeze, and she had tossed it back and forth fervently with her fingers
as she wrote. Her hands had become inky from the pen, and she was surrounded by
paper. While most of the time this would bother her, especially when he was
standing there looking like a male model that had jumped out of the pages of a
magazine, she was too proud of herself.

“I wrote something.”

Ryan gave her his crooked,
amused smile. “I see that.” He swooped down and picked up a ball of paper that
had been blown across the porch.

“I haven't written anything
in seven years.” She lowered her feet to the porch floor and smoothed out her
dress as Ryan made his way over to the chair on the side of the table closest
to him.

“You've told me,” he pointed
out as he sat down.

“I don't know what happened.
It just poured out of me like I knew exactly what I was doing, like I'd been
planning it for weeks.” Alexis looked down at her sloppy handwriting, expecting
it to disappear, but it remained steadfast on the paper.

“Can I read it?” he asked
calmly, as if this wasn't a life-changing event.

Alexis was hesitant. It was
one thing to have something written. It was something completely different to
have someone read it.

“Please,” he added. His blue
eyes kindly stared her down and into submission. She slowly pushed the notebook
across the table toward the waiting man on the other side. “I should warn you,”
she started.

 “No disclaimers. Just let
me read it.” Ryan pulled the notebook from underneath her fingertips. Alexis
bore them into the page, not quite willing to allow him to take it, but for
fear of ripping the page she let it go.

She watched as he flipped
several pages back to the beginning, and then as he read each line carefully.
Her stomach knotted and flipped with each page turn. Stopping herself from
reaching across the table and snatching the notebook away, she gulped hard and
gripped the sides of her chair tightly.

It wasn't until he flipped
to the last page, read, and then looked up at her that she could feel
comfortable. At least she didn’t have to wait any longer to hear that it was
the worst thing he’d ever read.

Ryan set the notebook back
on the table and slid it across the table back to Alexis. “It’s really good.”

“What do you mean?” she
asked, not understanding the vagueness of “really good.”

“It was real. Intense and
sad. It was brilliant. I've never read anything like it.”

Alexis took the feedback to
heart. She felt unsteady in her chair and held on to the notebook for support.
Tears began to form behind her eyes, but she fought them off with a deep,
staggered breath and a shake of her head.

“What do you do next?” he
asked, still calm.

Alexis hadn't thought about
a next step. This step was too big for her to just jump to the next step
quickly. She was still too concerned that this was a fleeting gift. That maybe
she would get this one story and nothing else. The pressure of the next step
was too much for her to even consider, until he forced her with his question.

“I don't know. I guess I
could send it to Dr. Lehrer. I could see what she thinks. I guess.” Alexis
shrugged. She didn't really think it was a good idea. Having Ryan read it was
hard enough. Giving it to someone with a discerning eye and a Doctorate in
literature was an agonizing prospect. “I don't think I should do that yet. I
have to edit it first.”

“What's the worst that could
happen?” He looked at her intently, but in a way that gave her great comfort,
like he truly believed in what she was doing.

“Nothing. The worst thing
that could happen is nothing.”

A smile lit up half his
face, “Then you have nothing to lose.”

Alexis had never considered
it that way. At this point she had written something, it would need to be
processed and edited, but once it was done, the worst thing someone could say
was no. Even if she got rejected, at least she had something to reject. “I
guess,” she admitted after her reflection.

Ryan stood up from the chair
and grabbed her wrist, “Let's go celebrate with breakfast.”

Sex, work, and food. The
three things that held his attention.

Alexis ran up to her room
and grabbed her purse. She didn’t know what she was going to say to him over a
meal. Talking about the weather, news, and sports didn’t seem appropriate, but
the details of the previous night were a topic she’d rather not broach, ever.
She couldn’t decide if she would rather have this conversation with him or a
real sex talk with Riley. Both choices were horrible.

She met him on the porch
where she had left him, and they proceeded to the car silently. When they
turned the corner, someone unexpected was standing in the driveway next to a
beat-up Toyota.

“Hello, Alexis,” a deep
voice grunted. “Did you get my flowers?”

Alexis took a deep breath to
try to control herself. It didn’t work. “Get the hell off my property, Richard.
You’re breaking the restraining order.” Alexis paused for a moment. The police
weren’t able to serve this guy with a restraining order, but he seemed to know
she didn’t send the flowers back. Either someone was really incompetent or…she
didn’t want to think about the “or.” Anxiety pricked the edge of her heart. “If
you’re not out of my driveway in ten seconds, I swear to God, I am calling the
cops.” She was going to anyway, but she thought the threat might discourage him
any further.

Richard threw his head back
in laughter. “I don’t think that you actually want me to leave. Our
relationship has changed. You’ve accepted my flowers.”

Ryan started to move toward
the short, muscular man, but Alexis stopped him. “Stay out of it,” she warned,
accompanied with a glare. Then she turned back to Richard, “My garbage disposal
accepted your flowers. And let me spell it out for you again real slow.
We…don’t…have…a…relationship. Did you get it this time?”

“When are you going to come
to your senses and come back to me? I think your little charade has lasted long
enough.” Richard began moving toward the porch steps. Alexis pulled out her
cell phone, and Ryan stepped in front of her.

“She said that you need to
leave,” Ryan said in a deep growl, and Alexis saw his hands ball up into tight
fists.