Jake
Two weeks. Two long weeks in hell. Stuck in my own mind reliving every minute I've spent with Aubrey. With her strawberry scented and shaded skin.
Feeling her soft hands on my body.
Hearing her sweet husky laugh and letting her drive me wild with that wink.
Her soft lips on my dimple.
I've been tortured day in and day out with only memories, not the real thing. I'm so lost. So fucking lost with no idea how to find myself. But if I really let myself consider it all, I'm not actually convinced I want to.
I miss her. Achingly so. My heart burns with my need for her. My body hurts with the want to feel her. We've had no contact since that stupid fucking argument. Nada. Nil. Quiet on all fronts. It's driving me crazy. I don't want to call her but my hand itches to reach for my phone. I don't want her to call me, but every day that passes without her reaching out has me fuming. That's it? It's just done for her? Is she just going back to her life, pretending that what we shared was nothing? A bump in the road. But what could I have expected? No one important, right?
My gig tonight was brutal. Hauntingly raw as I let my heart bleed on the stage. The crowd ate it up. Relished in my heartbreak as my throat burned with every lyric scratched from my vocal chords. I left feeling worse, irritated that I let them into my private world. Into my inner thoughts. Into my personal pain.
Sleep won't find me lying in this hotel room in Bellevue. The sheets are crisp against my naked back, my bare feet braced against the softness of the carpet, my right hand wrapped brutally around the neck of a whiskey bottle. Crunching my abdominal muscles, I sit up and pull the glass neck to my lips, letting the burning liquid coat my throat, wiping the excess droplets from my lips with the back of my hand. The room spins around me, my mind fogged over, just not enough to numb myself from my thoughts. Closing my eyes, I work to center myself. I hate letting myself reach this point of drunken desperation. Giving into the temptation reminds me so much of Archer, and I despised that side of him. My self-loathing skyrockets when I let my sadness overtake, and I attempt to drown my sorrows. I hate how truly weak I've become.
Scratching the skin of my chest, I stand slowly, steadying my wavering balance. I stumble slightly as my body leans in whatever direction my eyes move. My things are thrown haphazardly across the room and using the furniture in the room to stabilize myself, I move to shift them out of my way, searching for my cell. Locating it, I drop to the floor, sliding against the wall. It takes a second or two to find steadiness. Blinking heavily, I brush a palm down my face to remove the blur of my eyes. Painfully slow, and shaky as all shit, I thumb my pin in and grunt around a laugh when I'm successful first go. I stare at her entry in my contacts, focusing all my energy on the letters of her name, like my will alone will make her appear. I fixate on her name until my hand aches with holding the phone upright until my fingers sting with pins and needles and I drop it to my lap stretching my hand. I know I should let myself pass out here. Switch my phone off and take away the lure of how easily it would be to call her, to text her. But knowing and doing are two vastly different scenarios, and with another long pull of whiskey, I give into my need. I let the bait of her words coax me further into my abyss of despondence.
Jake: I’m drunk and so fucking lonely Aubrey. I need you so fucking bad…
My eyes never leave the screen as I swallow more whiskey, waiting for her to reach back. To extend her own hopeless need to let me know I'm not by myself feeling this.
Aubrey: J-Baby……I’m stuck at an event, I can’t……. Where are you?
Anger burns my nostrils. At an event. She'd be dressed up, she'd look beautiful and she's with him. That fuck face, who wouldn't appreciate her beauty.
Jake: R u with him? Why can’t u c u should b with me? Not him. NOT. HIM.
How can she not see that I want her like he never could? Never would. That he can't treat her as well as I would. That he could never make her feel the way I do. Special. Loved. Fucking adored. She comes alive when I touch her. When I love her, when I fuck her. I know he's never made her feel that way. I can see the shock that overtakes her features when she comes. For me. She's never before experienced what I can give her, what I can make her feel.
Jake: Do u still let him fuck you? Do you give him that?
Aubrey: WHERE ARE YOU?
I hate that she didn't answer me. Would she let him touch her? Let him inside of her? Let her body bring him pleasure that should be solely mine. He doesn't fucking deserve it. Aubrey should be fucking worshiped, her body prized, showered with affection.
Jake: God I hate that I need u so fucking much
Jake: Bellevue
I shouldn't have told her where I am. But I'm weak. Shit, that's fucking obvious. So goddamn weak. I hate it. I hate how non-existent my willpower is now. I've become someone I despise. Look at me, slumped against the wall because I can barely stand, drunk off my face, pining for someone who finds it so easy to damage my heart. Carrying on an affair, physically, but more damaging, emotionally, with someone who’s attached. I've fallen for someone who has committed to somebody else. I've come to settle for a conditional love because no one else exists for me. I'm sure of it. Aubrey's it. My happily ever after.
Laughing aloud, I realize how fucking ridiculous that sounds. How fucking stupid am I? Handing my heart over, no, begging someone to take it, someone who doesn't want it. All these months of continuing this sordid relationship has sealed my fate. I fell in love with someone I never really had a chance with. With someone who can't find it in themselves to love me back. For the remainder of my life I get to live with the misery of knowing that I, without my conscious consent, trusted my happy ending with someone who didn't want to give me theirs.
I sink further into my self-pity, crumbling against the wall like a pathetic pussy of a man. Twenty minutes later a panicked knocking at my door pulls me from my stupor, and I stumble towards the door. Swinging the door open, Aubrey knocks me over, and I want to cry that she's actually here. That for once, she chose me over him. That she ran to me.
She looks like a fucking angel. Her porcelain skin highlighted with a purposeful blush. The scattering of freckles decorating her nose still visible under the light shade of makeup. Her eyes are darkly rimmed, causing her sapphire colored eyes to shine brightly on her face. An electric blue silk drapes over her body, clutching to her slender frame desirably. It's strapless, a neckline that dips like a heart, showcasing her modest cleavage. Her auburn hair is blown into a wave, secured at the nape of her neck and off to the side. The thick tail of hair hanging over her shoulder.
“You look so beautiful,” I admire and the words come out slurred as I stumble on the carpet when I move to drag a finger across her naked collarbone. My eyes sting with the clogged-up desperation I feel for her. She's so warm, inviting and I want to taste her milky skin. Her eyes scan my appearance, her bright eyes grieving at my fucked-up state.
“Jake. Baby,” she whispers. I hate the dejection in her tone. I hate that she can see what a sorrowful state I'm living in. Hating that even though I blame her, she also blames herself.
Not being able to stand not touching her for a second longer I yank her forward, through the doorframe and into my body. The door slams with a loud echo behind her as my lips smash onto hers. My inconsolable need is brash in the way I kiss her. My tongue strokes heavily into her mouth, and she reciprocates easily. Her touch is almost as violent as mine in its neediness and I groan loudly, pushing her against the wall. I lick her neck, bite her jaw, and she cries out powerfully for me to fuck her. To let her feel me inside. "Make me feel you, Jake. Fuck me hard. Hurt me. Make me ache between my legs tomorrow," she begs, pulling on my hair.
I grunt my approval, dropping the mostly empty bottle of whiskey to the floor. My entire body shudders with the deep stutters of breath escaping my lips. Twisting her body away from mine, I pin her slender frame against the wall with my heaving chest. Her needy cries hit right at my cock and I yank it from my unbuttoned jeans, stroking once, twice, relieving the pressure already building. Aubrey gathers her dress in her hands, pulling it upward, revealing inch by inch of creamy skin until it amasses at her waist. A small pair of Brazilian cut panties frame her pert ass, and I growl deep from my throat at how fucking hard she makes me. Ripping the scrap of material from her body, I line the head of my beading cock at her hot little cunt, bending my knees slightly before surging forward and thrusting inside in one quick movement. The move has me tripping slightly in my drunken state, pushing me further into her body. Aubrey's hands fly to the wall, bracing herself against my impact as the richness of her cry breaks into the stillness of the room. My responding snarl vibrates through her skin and I bite her neck.
"J-Baby. Move. Please," she burns, her small hands shaking with the pressure she uses to push against the wall, trying for greater force.
"Beg me, Strawb'ries. Tell me you've thought about this constantly. That my cock is all you think about. Tell me that you need it," I command, squeezing a hand onto her slim shoulder.
"Yes. I need it. Fuck me, baby. Hard. Please, Jake. I can't go another day without the feel of your cock. Please," she cries, her hips rolling to find any kind of traction.
I grumble at her attempted movement, and her head drops on a defeated cry as she ceases her movements. Using the bend in my knees, I pull out and power back inside of her. Her head tips back and I lean forward to claim her mouth. I fuck her roughly. Bite her lips. Squeeze her body hard enough to leave marks. I use my body to communicate the depth of feeling I have for her. I show her how fucking desperate she makes me. I fuck her hard enough that she'll feel me tomorrow. The day after and the day after that. I want her to know this was me. Only me. That I can manipulate her body to feel this level of pleasure. No one fucking else. Just me.
Our screams, our grunts, moans, growls, cries are loud. Screaming into the small hotel room. Reaching down her stomach, I brush my hand across her clit as I feel her begin to throb. The move has her entire body shuddering at the feeling, and she comes almost instantly on a shout. I follow behind almost immediately, the feel of her tightening on my dick too much. I yell her name as I empty inside of her, slumping against her with my sweat slicked body. Our breathing is erratic, heavy as our entire forms move with the pressure.
"Fuck, Strawb'ries. Can't you see how much I fucking love you?" I stress, my face buried in the side of her neck. "You own my soul, Aubrey. I can't fucking live without you anymore."
A severe sob causes her entire body to convulse, and I step back immediately to turn her. Searching her face, I see the love she has for me breaking her heart. The sadness, so pure, so unfiltered in her wet eyes. "No, Jake," she whispers, her hand moving to massage her chest cavity. The pain too immense. "No. You were never allowed to love me, J-Baby. God, you were never supposed to trust me with your heart."
I stumble backward at her rejection. My body seeking support from the opposite wall. "Tell me you don't feel it back," I demand softly and her eyes close tightly at my request.
"I... You can't... I... No, I..." she stutters around the whimpers agonizing her throat. Closing her eyes tightly once again she covers her mouth and cries loudly into her palm. Her tears track her face and I stand in shocked silence. How the fuck did this happen? How could a declaration of love be met with such fabricated rejection?
We stand in tearful silence. My stuttered breaths and her cracked sobs widening the harrowing emptiness between us. "What do I gotta do, Aubrey? What do you need to make you love me enough to make the jump?" I scrape out, my voice cracking as water drops from my eyes.
I watch silently, save my stumbled breathing as Aubrey's heart breaks in front of me. I watch as she chooses to deny her feelings for me, her head shaking as her lungs work to suck in large gulps of air. She's suffocating in her lies. The pain her denial causes cutting off her airways, constricting her breathing.
I want to shake her. Scream right in her face. Cry. Yell. Slam my fist through the nearest wall. But defeated is a word I now feel defined by. I'm so tired of fighting alone, of trying to make her see. I know she loves me back. I feel it when we touch. I see it burn from her bright blue eyes when she looks at me, when she smiles. But how long can she continue to reject her feelings, reject me until I lose myself? Has it already happened? Because I don't recognize myself anymore. I'm not this guy. That's what I thought anyway, what I would tell myself repeatedly. Now I feel strangled by guilt, drowned by rejection, overpowered by an unrequited love. I've spent countless months trying to make her see me as worthy. Trying to convince her that loving me is the right choice, that my love would bring her happiness. All that fighting, all the deceit, all the lies, have led to nothing but a stifling emptiness. I feel hollow inside. Hollow and bare of any available fight. It's gone. Vacated my body, my mind, my soul. She took it all. My heart. My soul. My integrity. My honesty. She took it all without the slightest hesitation. But, I gave it over willingly. In hindsight, it was actually pathetic how eager I was to hand it all over. So, I'm not even angry with her for taking it. For soaking up everything she so clearly needed. But defeated is the right word, the only word I can possibly use to describe how I feel.
I don't speak. Couldn't if I wanted to. What would I say? I've said it all now. Everything. I've given her everything, and she continues to say no. Nothing I say or do now will change that. Slumping against the wall, I slide down to my ass, hanging my head between my bent knees. Sniffing loudly, I work to pull my shit together, drying the final tears from my eyes before lifting my head.
"You should go," I scrape out, my voice cracking on the whispered plea.
Her eyes close instinctively at my voice, forcing more tears to track down her flushed cheeks. Nodding, she takes a breath to speak but I offer a slight shake of my head.
"Please don't, I can't... just... don’t."
The blankness in my tone mirrors my decimated body language, and she bends to grab her small handbag before moving the few steps to the door. Her hand pauses on the handle for a split second before she pulls the door open and disappears through it. It closes softly behind her, and I can feel her through the door. I hear the soft thud of her head against the wood before the sound of her sliding to the ground. It's silly to find comfort in her presence in that moment, but I do. I find comfort in the time she allows herself to stay there.
In the end, I'm not actually sure how long she stayed. Possibly hours. Enough for the sun to begin to creep through the dark drapes and split shards of light throughout the room. My eyes fall heavy on the door when I hear the slight movements from the opposite side of the door. As if I stare hard enough, long enough, that maybe I'd see her, just a glimpse. Just a small snapshot to help keep the pain alive, just for a moment longer. To stop the numbness my mind and body had begun to force upon me. It’s all in vain, of course that wouldn't happen. Instead, my eyes keep contact with the door as her footsteps echo farther and farther away from me until they drift into silence and I’m left alone.
I sit on the floor for hours. Long enough for room service to knock on the door and inform me I have to check out. Now I sit in my car, staring at nothing, working out what the fuck I’m supposed to do next. I could pretend last night was it. That neither of us will be tempted to reach out once again. Maybe it was, but I can't risk it. Can't risk the possibility that we'd find ourselves back there again. Because, fuck me, in this moment, in my complete numbness, I'm barely hanging on. The weakest of threads is bearing the weight of my heartache and adding even the slightest hope would snap it in an instant. I'm not actually sure she'll answer, so when her soft voice, sounding so young and broken whispers my name into the line, I have to stop the bile trapped in my airways, from escaping.
"Last night was it, Aubrey,” I rasp through my tears. “I can't take any more pain. Every time we have contact, no matter how good it feels at the time," I cough, clearing my throat. "It's agony afterward. I'm so fuckin' broken inside. Promise me you won't contact me anymore. Please. You won't give me what I truly want, what you actually want, so promise me you'll give me that."
"I promise," she chokes out, a small sob reaching me through the line.
Rubbing my eyes with my index finger and thumb, I work to relieve the sting in my already tender eye sockets. The unwanted emotion feeling like sandpaper in my eyelids. "Maybe it's not fair, but if I'm weak enough to reach out," I trail off into silence, swallowing the lump short-circuiting my ability to breathe.
"I won't answer," she concedes, the admission sounding as forced and as unwelcome to my ears as it did coming from her mouth.
"Thank you," I grate out, tipping my neck back, chin to the roof of my car.
I can't bring myself to hang up, and it seems Aubrey is much the same. Our goodbye is said in silence. Long, speechless minutes are shared, and as the seconds tick by, the emotion heightens. Her stuttered breathing and muffled sobs are echoed by only my sharp intakes of breaths.
My phone beeps acknowledging its lack of battery, and I finally find the strength to take one last deep breath. "Catch ya' 'round, Strawb'ries."
Pulling the cell from my ear, I feel like I've been stabbed when Aubrey's strangled cry at my endearment pierces the silence before I can end the call. Switching it off, I toss it to the passenger side floor with excessive force as a loud stammering breath tears from my throat.
Driving back to Carnation is surreal. I feel numb. I don't exactly know how I should feel. I know I seem to think I've been robbed of something inside. That something has been taken against my will. Which is so fucked up and so far from the truth. In all honesty, I basically tripped over myself to give everything to Aubrey freely. Shit, I begged her to take it all. So to feel robbed, to feel as though my love had been taken unwillingly from me, is laughable. It's a joke. I'm a joke.
I always thought so highly of my integrity. Was so confident in myself as someone who was honest. Someone who would never put aside their morals, their ethics for something they desired. I was so fucking righteous. How the mighty fall, eh? I was always so quick to judge Archer and Annabelle for their errors. For every mistake, for every single misjudgment, I held myself higher. Felt that I would never be like Archer at his weakest point. I despised his flaws, his failings. Yet, his fragile moments were centered around his honor, his love, his commitment to Annabelle.
Me? Mine were centered around lies, around deceit, around unfaithfulness and pursuing something that wasn't ever really mine. I lied. I cheated. Some fucking stand-up individual I turned out to be.
The hardest part though, the most difficult to stomach, is that because it was all done so secretly, so closed off from reality, people still view me as one of the good guys. My friends and family look at me as honest and caring. What would they think if they knew the truth? Would they pity me like they did Archer? Would they look down on me the way they did him? Or would they let their blindsided loyalty dictate their reaction and cast me as the victim?
I wish I never had to find out. I wish that they would live none the wiser for the rest of their lives. I thought their blame being centered at Aubrey would be hurtful, difficult enough to swallow. But it was their view that I was a wounded, helpless creature that cut the most. It was the realization that in the end my past integrity, my past honesty, had made them see me as being taken advantage of. That I was weak. That Aubrey sunk her claws in and I was too vulnerable, too delicate to fight it off. I guess they were right, about my weakness anyway. I think that's what makes me most angry. That their view that I wasn't strong enough to push my feelings aside and do what was right, was right on point. I hate that the sweet, loyal person they all knew and loved, blinded them to the fact that in reality, I was a piece of shit. I was unreliable, untrustworthy and most definitely not deserving of their sympathy. No more or no less than Aubrey anyway.