21.
Lucy
Eddie’s mood had been bothering me more than I liked to admit. It was my birthday party and I was trying to enjoy it but I’d never seen him like that. Not once in all the years I’ve known him. His smiles always come so easily; his laughter was such a staple of any evening out that the dinner felt decidedly lackluster without it.
There’d been a point, a moment if you will, just outside the restaurant when we had looked at each other and I’d seen my Eddie again. There was the smile of the Eddie I knew, the Eddie I cared about, but then he blinked and it was gone. Just like that. Poof. Gone.
I tried not to let it worry me. It could wait. If it had been anything truly awful making him that miserable he wouldn’t have showed up for my dinner in the first place.
So I focused on why I was there, to hang out with my friends and distract myself from the shit-fest that turning 26 was raining down on me psychologically and emotionally. And so I turned my attentions to Stephen.
Stephen was part of the ‘Get Eddie out of my system’ plan. It may have been a plan that really needed a better title, but it was also the only one I had. And it was accurate. I needed to get Eddie out of my system. I was worried that if I didn’t it could be my heart as well as my body craving him and that would destroy everything. I couldn’t risk falling in love with a friend. That was one of the reasons I’d picked Eddie in the first place, he was so far out of my league that romantic attachment seemed impossible. Now I was less certain.
My plan had been to find a willing partner and, for want of a better phrase, boff Eddie out of my system. I hadn’t needed to look that far. On Friday evening Stephen had called, asking if I fancied meeting up for lunch the following day. We spent a long time talking and by the time he’d hung up it was clear he wanted more than a friendly lunch. I’ll admit it seemed kind of perfect. Almost too good to be true.
I wasn’t worried about developing feelings for Stephen. He was great to play boardgames with, but beyond that we didn’t see each other much. If I had to sacrifice my friendship with him to save my friendship with Eddie, it would be a worthwhile trade. I know that makes me sound cruel, but I was pretty sure Stephen knew what he was getting himself into.
We’d had a good lunch out and, following Eddie’s advice, I’d tried touching Stephen occasionally. It was nothing overtly sexual; just a lingering hand on his arm, or brush of my shoulder against his. Not really anything to write home about. But Stephen had been more than receptive and was soon holding my hand, throwing his arm over my shoulder and even, rather possessively if you ask me, putting his hand on my lower back. I wasn’t really used to this kind of male attention, and while I didn’t exactly light up inside it was nice. It was warm and pleasant.
In the Royale it all went a bit strange. Eddie had disappeared, and by that point I was almost glad. Almost. His melancholy had been pulling me down all evening and just thinking that made me feel like a terrible friend. I hated myself for thinking it and at the same time hated him for making me feel terrible on my birthday. So maybe I’d had a few too many margaritas at the restaurant and I wasn’t really sure what I was feeling, but happy didn’t seem to be one of the emotions.
Stephen was trying his best. He even paid for my meal, which I thought was sweet, if a little strange considering what a fuss he was making about whether or not the service charge was included in the final bill. What was all that about? And in the club he was holding on to me and trying to persuade the bartender to give me a free drink because it was my birthday. He was a little overzealous but at least he was making an effort.
It wasn’t until I tried to find my phone in my bag with the ambition of texting Eddie to find out where the hell he was that I realised I must have left my phone at home. Instead I decided to ask Alex who was less than helpful.
“He went home,” he shrugged.
“Yeah, I figured that much, but why?”
There was another shrug and an indecipherable expression as he said, “You’ll have to ask him.” It was all so bloody infuriating.
Stephen tugged me onto the dance floor and as soon as he started dancing his hands were everywhere. He kept staring into my eyes and rather than finding it in anyway attractive or evocative it actually came across as rather unsettling. To give him his due he was smiling, but the whole thing was a bit more “I want to make a coat out of your skin” than “I want to seduce you”. I tried to shake the idea from my mind and get into it. I was there to be open to new things and this was certainly new to me.
I let him dance me into a corner just as Midnight Train to Georgia came on and something about the song made me think about Eddie. He’d been talking a while before about this new game he’d played called Ticket to Ride and we’d got into a long conversation about a soundtrack for it. I couldn’t remember whether or not it was one of the ones we’d mentioned but made a mental note to tell him next time I saw him.
By the time I had silently chastised myself for thinking about Eddie, again, Stephen had started trying to kiss me. And try as I might, I couldn’t help but compare him to Eddie. The kiss wasn’t soft and slow like the first time Eddie kissed me nor was it as passionate as his kisses had often been. I think the best word to describe it would be wet. Not that it wasn’t nice in it’s own way; it was just sloppier than I was expecting.
We ended up back at his place, a flat on the other side of town from me that he shared with Travis, who was sat in the taxi next to us as Stephen tried to continue what he’d started back in the club. It was more than a little awkward.
Eventually we got to his room. There was a distinct musk of damp in the room, and I couldn’t help noticing the wet towel on the floor in the corner as he pulled me towards the bed. I don’t know why that stuck in my mind but it did.
I tried to get into it, I really did. But every five seconds something would remind me of Eddie, or he’d do something and I’d end up comparing the two men. I know it wasn’t fair for me to compare the two, but I couldn’t seem to help it. And every time I thought about Eddie I’d get a gnawing sensation inside me that felt a little bit too much like guilt. It was as though my body thought it was his property, and any other man touching triggered the alarm system. A system that manifested itself in the form of worry and overthinking.
Stephen didn’t give me time to pull my shoes off before he pulled me onto the bed. I tried to move away from his far too moist mouth to remove them. Even though I’d picked “comfortable heels”, I have never found a pair that I can stand in for more than an hour before they become uncomfortable.
Stephen stopped my hand at my ankle, winking, “Leave them on” as though it were some sexy game we were playing. I went along with it, ignoring the blister I could feel forming on the little toe on my left foot. I tried to push back the memory of Eddie letting me take my time, waiting so patiently as I took my shoes off, asking if I was alright, making sure that I was comfortable. He had let me explore his body, rather than plastering himself to me the way that Stephen was.
In Stephen’s defence, he didn’t know. He didn’t know I was new to all of this, that my sexual experiences were limited to a couple of nights with Eddie. I knew that. He was expecting someone with more experience than I could offer. But at the same time, I wondered whether there was more to it than that.
I remembered how exciting I had found giving Eddie a blowjob, how turned on I had been and how it had given me the time to work up to more. It was that thought that made me reach for Stephen’s trousers. He helped me unzip him and was guiding my face towards his penis before I had a chance to catch my breath. His hand gripped the back of my head. It’s not like he forced me or anything, I was willing. I wanted to do it, it just… it felt expected and urgent. But then, maybe this was his form of passion?
I did my best, but I’ve never been able to read Stephen the way I could Eddie. It felt sloppy, messy, like everything I was doing wasn’t quite what it should have been.
With Eddie I enjoyed it. I could feel him growing in my mouth. I loved the way he pulsed against my tongue, stroked my hair so gently and watched me with so much heat. He was so grateful. And he didn’t want me to do anything I didn’t want to do. He warned me before he came, as if I couldn’t feel everything in him tightening.
Stephen was… different. He came without warning, thrusting into my mouth, gripping my head so hard it hurt, staring up at the ceiling. I think that’s what actually hurt most. The fact that I could have been anyone, it didn’t matter to him. Eddie looked at me like he couldn’t believe he was so lucky to have me sucking him off. With Stephen I felt like an orifice.
Maybe it’s bad of me to say all of that. It was probably an awful assumption and I don’t know that’s how he thought about me. But in that moment it’s how I felt.
Once he was spent he collapsed back onto the bed with a grunt and I left. I couldn’t stay. I didn’t want to stay. It wasn’t fun, it wasn’t exciting or sexy or sweet or any of the other things that it had been with Eddie. And Stephen didn’t move to stop me.