Jake
I bound up the stairs to my apartment, giddy with the knowledge that Aubrey has now officially moved in. She spent the day moving her belongings, refusing my help, assuring me she needed zero assistance.
I have to admit, coming home from work knowing she’ll be there to greet me, is one of my greatest fantasies come to life. It still feels surreal. Having her as mine. No more secrets. No more hiding. Nothing to keep us from being happy. Well, apart from Annabelle’s continual rejection. She just won’t budge. Nothing Archer, myself, Janie, even Aubrey say seems to sway her from how hard she’s digging in her heels with this. I’ll move her. I know I will. A complete and utter breakdown in friendship between her and Aubrey isn’t a possibility. I won’t allow it. I can’t. I see how much pain it causes Aubrey and I’m done seeing anything but happiness in her eyes. She’s lived with enough sadness these past few years, and I plan on making certain she never feels that way again. So I’ll break Annabelle down. I’ll make her see reason. It’ll come. With time.
That first night back together was emotional. Aubrey finally let me in. She opened up completely and gave me everything I’d been missing. She gave me all her secrets. She confided in me about David. Fucking asshole. I want to kill him, rip his vindictive head from his fucking body. He threatened her. He took her love for her dad and twisted into a weapon against her. Who the fuck does that? Uses love to feed hate? Uses the good in someone to manipulate them? I feel violent in my anger every time I think of him. Aubrey calms me. Tells me to let it go, that she’s got everything she ever wanted now. She even created some stupid reasoning that if it weren’t for David’s blackmail she would’ve never found me, not in the way she was supposed to. She searched for an escape in alcohol and she found me instead. She joked we should write to David, thank him. She apologized quickly after, her smile wide and amused at the storming anger in my eyes. I can’t imagine I’ll ever let the rage I feel for the guy go, but seeing Aubrey happy now makes it easier. She’s where she needs to be. With me.
All that matters right now is walking through the door to my home, knowing my girl’s inside. I step through the door without preamble, needing to see her. Now that I have her, I struggle with the time we spend apart. I’ve lived too much of my life without her, so I crave and miss her every hour we’re apart. Maybe I’ll get used to it eventually, but really, in honesty, I don’t want to. I want to crave her, I want to miss her, always.
She spins fast on her heel as soon as she hears the door, rushing toward me and jumping into my arms. Seems she’s the same. She greets me this way after every moment we’ve spent apart. She needs that immediate connection. That instant gratification of being able to touch me, to love me, whenever she wants.
I hope it’s always this way. For the rest of our lives. I hope with everything inside me, our need to touch, to love one another remains strong. Stays as the single most important things in our lives. Because I’ve never felt as happy as I do right now, Aubrey in my arms, and I know from now until eternity, she’ll always make me feel this way.
“Fuck, I missed you,” she breathes me in, her face tucked solidly into my neck as she inhales. “Motor oil and mint. Mmmmm.”
“Back at ya, Strawb’ries,” I squeeze her tightly, letting the comfort of her body filter through my veins.
Her lips press against her autograph, the red lipstick stain inked into my skin. She kisses it once, twice, groaning in satisfaction. “I think you should have my lips inked all over your body,” she pulls back, smiling at me behind hooded eyes.
It’s said as a joke, but if she asked, I’d do it. I’d have her name tattooed across my forehead to let everyone know I belonged to her. I wanna scream it loud enough for everyone to hear. I want everyone to know, that after fighting through the dark, tangled mess we’d created, Aubrey King is finally mine.
Staring at her happy face, I grin. For months and months, I’d watched Aubrey’s fire fade, watched the spark that makes her who she is falter as she fought insecurities she kept hidden. Now they’re gone, extinguished and my vivacious woman is back. She watches my thought process, working to read my mind. I don’t know if she succeeds, but she smiles just before she winks.
That wink.
My face breaks, my smile coming on wide and she drags her bottom lip through her teeth. Leaning forward, she touches her mouth to my dimple before her tongue darts out to drag through it, making my need for her spike.
“I moved in,” she declares, pulling back from giving me what I really want; her mouth closed over mine.
“Good.” I scan her face, my hands moving to caress the soft, bare skin of her legs wrapped around my waist. I move to my target, a hand circling over the delicate chain and strawberry permanently decorating her ankle. She never takes it off. As in never. Can’t say I’m displeased by that discovery. I catch her playing with it frequently, the same small contented smile crawling over her lips each and every time. It fires the pride, the ownership in my chest and I remind myself to book an appointment to have a strawberry inked into my skin, a replica of the one permanently chained around her ankle.
“Whatd’ya think?” She pulls one arm from around my body, gesturing around the small space of our apartment and I consider, not for the first time, how fucking lucky I am to have this girl in my arms, in my bed, in my heart.
I slowly pull my gaze from her face, reluctantly glancing around the space when all I wanna look at is her.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Aubrey. What the fuck is that?”
She laughs, the sound coming all the way from her belly as she pulls my body at the same time she turns to look at the photo she’s hung on our wall.
“Isn’t it fabulous?”
I stare at the black and white still, considering that it is an amazing photo; intricate in the way it showcases every little detail, but it’s fucking massive. And it’s me. It’s artfully taken as is Aubrey’s talent. Every strong line of my arms on show as my hands dance across my acoustic.
“It’s a ginormous photo of me.”
She giggles again, wriggling down from my arms to turn and take the image in more completely. “I know,” she breathes, the sound soft and dreamy.
“I love you, Aubrey and I want this place to be everything you want in a home, but is that really necessary?” I laugh, scratching the back of my neck in embarrassment.
She turns towards me, rolling her eyes. “You can’t see your face or most of your body for that matter. It’s your arms and your guitar. You’re lost in your art, the same way I was lost in mine when I took it.”
I exhale heavily through my nostrils. “I like that you took the photo.”
She watches me, eyebrows raised in question and I sigh. “Does it have to be so big though?”
She pauses, eyes trained on the photo, lost in thought. Exhaling heavily, she turns to me, a soft smile softening her features. “If you hate it I’ll take it down,” she concedes quietly. “But that’s my heart on the wall, Jake,” she massages her chest, above the place her heart sits. “It took me a really long time to find it and a lot of heartache to get to a place where I could let myself be happy. You and my camera are the most important loves of my life. You have your passions inked into your skin,” she reaches up, dragging a finger along the kiss on my neck. “Mine are displayed through photos.”
“It stays then,” I say, grabbing her hand and pulling her into my body, needing to hug her, to feel her against me. I take a moment to feel her, sure and real in my arms, wondering if it’s possible to love someone more and more with each and every second that passes.
I glance through the rest of our apartment, Aubrey’s things filling up the space that only yesterday looked empty. Her belongings touch every corner, spread around in purposeful disarray, not messy, just lived in. I feel full. Happiness overtaking me.
“I need a shower, I stink, then I’m gonna fuck you in our apartment.” I kiss the base of her neck softly and she lifts her chin, offering me easier access.
I step away, and she whimpers at my retreat. I walk backward, wanting to keep the image of her standing in our space in the forefront of my mind forever.
Standing under the warm spray of water, I rub my skin quickly, ridding my day from my skin in a rush to get to Aubrey faster. But seems she’s as impatient as I am, her naked body stepping into the shower, and slowing my hectic scrubbing.
“Hey, roomie,” she smiles, and I return it, watching her move close to me.
“Hey, yourself.”
Her palms glide along my chest, over my slick skin, resting over my heart. “Reckon you’d be okay taking sex in payment for rent?” She looks up at me through her lashes, her crystal colored eyes teasing me.
“Absolutely.”
She chuckles, and I lean down to taste her skin. I kiss the path of her collarbone, following the trail of my kisses with my tongue. “I love you,” she whispers, and I pull back to look at her.
“First time we showered together, I knew I loved you.”
“Jake,” she implores, her hand finding mine to tangle our fingers together.
“It’s true.” I pull her closer into my body, making certain every inch of her skin is touching mine. “Standing in that bathroom, I’d never seen anything more beautiful in my entire life. Shit, Aubrey, you stole my heart from the very beginning. I never stood a chance, and I’m really fucking glad I didn’t.”
“I think I loved you that first night in Arlington. You did things to my heart, to my body that I never knew possible. I was a goner from the moment your finger touched the bare skin of my knee, maybe even before then. I saw the goodness in your heart and knew that if that could be mine, that I’d be the happiest person in the world.” She arches her neck, reaching upward to touch her lips to my pulse point, the place her autograph will mark my skin forever, and she pauses, feeling the strong and steady rhythm of my heart, beating for hers.
“I wasn’t wrong, J-Baby. I feel complete, happy for the first time in my life, knowing that I have you and that you have me. I love you so fucking much it hurts, but in a way that I never want to recover from.”
I kiss her. Under the spray of water and like all those months ago, I show her I love her through my kiss. I push every feeling I hold deep within me into loving her mouth. My hands move to grip her jaw, my palms tight on her cheeks as my tongue stroke headily against hers. Her taste is intoxicating. The feel of her inebriating. I’m drunk on Aubrey King. Touching her, loving her, gifts me with the greatest high I’ve ever felt. One that I never want to, and now, never have to come down from.
Our love story started unconventionally. It may even offend those who could never understand the all-consuming, crippling fear of self-doubt. Of not having faith in yourself enough to trust what’s right, even if sometimes it may be wrong. Faith is a funny thing. It works in mysterious ways and maybe, even though we didn’t know at the time, Aubrey and I always had belief in what we shared. Maybe that’s why we went back. Time and time again. Knowing that while our love wasn’t perfect, it was real. It was how it is supposed to feel, and maybe deep down we knew it was strong enough to pull us through. Maybe the hurt, the agony of everything in between just showed us it was worth it. Because when the fear of losing the person you love most in the world is so real you can taste it, all you can really rely on is the faith buried deep within your soul, hoping it can hang on long enough, hard enough to let you keep fighting, even when you think you have nothing left to fight with.
Standing here with Aubrey, our bodies pressed together as tightly as they can be, our mouths connected, our love shining through the kiss we’re so completely lost in, I know I would’ve never stopped fighting. I would’ve pushed harder and further than ever before until the faith she had in us broke through her self-doubt. This was always going to be our ending.
Us, together. In our own home. Loving one another the way we were destined to.