Distractions Ch. 08byHotSprings22©
Thanks for the comments and feedback and I am mean for leaving you guys hanging like that, but hopefully this chapter will ease at least some of your anxieties. Or course, it wont answer all of your questions, but that's the point inst it? I gotta keep you coming back for more right?
Thanks again, as always, I hope you.
I hesitated. I couldn't do it. Don't make that face, I know it seems like after all this time, I would be jumping for joy, breaking out the confetti and throwing a ticker tape parade, but this whole...situation didn't seem likely. For all I knew I could really be curled up on my couch dreaming about this very moment like I've done many times before. I have been known to be a tad delusional in the past.
Here was Gavin for all intents and purposes commanding, not asking, me to do the one thing I have wanted to do freely for almost six years. But there was still a problem. Why did I have to be the one to kiss him? Why couldn't he kiss me? How come he couldn't just say what was really on his mind and tell me what his real intentions were? If he wanted me so badly, why couldn't he sweep me off my feet, whisk me away to the bedroom and make endless love (I visibly cringed at the word) to me like men did in the trashy romance novels I read when I thought no one was looking? More importantly, why me? Why now? After all these years, why now?
Why the hell was I standing here thinking about this now?
I'm standing here thinking about all this now because I've been in this situation before. Wilson had done the same thing to me just before things between us had really picked up, and look were that got me. Trivial matters to be concerned with, I think not.
I'd suppressed most of the bad emotions evoked by Wilson but now they were impossible to ignore. They came rushing back and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it.
I couldn't meet Gavin's gaze, so I stared at his throat. I watched the throbbing of his pulse at the base of his neck.
The fact that Gavin and Wilson had been such good friends for so long was always lingering in the back of my mind. So if Wilson saw me as a conquest - a joke, than what did Gavin see me as? Friends, but something more? Why now? Was this just a grown up version of their Hymen Buster game? And what does that say about Gavin that he was willing to do this with his best friend's little sister, also his best friend?
Granted, Gavin and Wilson haven't had a civilized conversation in ages, but what if that was due to their extreme competitive natures? That would definitely explain why Gavin was so pissed when Wilson and I started dating. And the fight that night at Spike's, what if that started because Gavin finally got a chance to pound Wilson for getting me first? That would make sense. Right?
I couldn't do it.
I hesitated just far enough from Gavin to feel his heavy breaths washing across my face. I needed to think about this. There was no way I was going to let anyone hurt me as badly as I'd been hurt by Wilson, least of all my best friend. Gavin had the potential to do way more harm than Wilson ever could. Was it worth it?
This scene seemed eerily similar to the one that marked the beginning of the end with Wilson. I'd been pushing this thought away, but now there was no stopping it. It started just like this. Wilson suddenly showering me with lots of attention, hanging off me at parties, his body language making it known to everyone that he was with me now. I didn't mind it at first because I'd been used to the way guys were. Wilson found someone new, and that turned out to be me. I was different from what he was used to. I didn't primp in front of the mirror, I didn't flaunt my tits every chance I got, so I figured that after awhile of us just hanging out, eventually I would turn into one of the guys, just like I did with everyone else.
I expected Wilson would go from hanging on me all the time to just hanging on me when a bouncing pair of DD's wasn't around. He would share his secrets with me, but not in an intimate way, in the way that allowed friends to get closer. We would hang out and watch Sports Center together when I wasn't with Gavin and my brother. Then eventually when he found a bouncing pair of DD's to keep him company at night, he'd ask my advice: What were the best presents to get? What do girls really want? What does it mean when a girl won't answer her phone, but I know she's been waiting for me to call?
But his attention never waned. I waited and waited for it, and was surprised when he was still hanging on me at parties, like us being together was an unspoken agreement. When I'd jokingly asked him if spending time with me was disrupting his chances of a tumble in the sheets with someone else, he looked at me like I was crazy.
He smiled his devilish grin and shook his head at me. Of course, I wanted to know what that reaction was about, so I asked.
"Isn't it obvious?" He questioned like I should have picked up on the point he was trying to make by now.
I raised my eyebrows certain he'd gone off the deep-end. What the hell was he talking about? I was standing near the television in his apartment about to put in a DVD. I stood there dumbly as I waited for him to answer.
Wilson picked himself up from the couch and reached me in three long strides. He took the DVD from my hand and threw it behind him where it landed with a thud on the couch. His eyes trained on me and I could feel the heat beginning to rise in my cheeks. I was suddenly very nervous. The air in the room was thick with tension, and I wasn't sure what to do about it.
He ran his hands up my sides. One stopped at the base of my neck and the other stopped at my jaw. My eyes flashed wide with confusion then recognition as the pad of his thumb traced the line of my jaw. I'd never been in a situation like this before, let alone with someone as gorgeous as Wilson Butler, so I stood there numbly as he did what he wanted.
His eyes fixed on my lips as I tried to moisten them. He bent down closer to my face. With a need I didn't even know I had, I rose up on my toes to get closer to his lips that were just out of reach. I was shocked when he pulled back slightly, widening the gap between our mouths. Had I read the situation wrong? If it were possible, I'm certain I turned an even deeper shade of crimson.
Wilson stood a little straighter, and said to me, "I want you to kiss me."
My brows knitted in confusion, if he wanted me to kiss him, then why did he pull away? The thought wasn't at the forefront of my mind, because I was distracted by how damp my panties had become. I'd kissed him before, that night at the bonfire, so I thought I knew exactly what I was getting myself into when I stepped closer to him, eliminating the space between our bodies.
I stared up into his face searching his features for an answer I could understand. Did he really want me, plain old Isabelle? After all the exploits I'd heard about, I was certain he couldn't be interested in me.
"Kiss me," he commanded again, his tone no longer soft and compassionate. I'd never done this before, so I thought it was appropriate. I watched the ocean blue of his eyes change as he looked at me. There was something in the way he said it. I didn't question it, mostly because I didn't know any better.
Wilson stood up tall and I rose onto my toes to get closer to his mouth. He didn't meet me half way like they do in the movies. It was all me. I was the one that went to him, and I guess that's exactly what he wanted.
I kissed him. He didn't really kiss me back. I didn't realize until later that that was the problem. He commanded me to kiss him, and I did. He didn't have to do anything; I was ready and willing to do anything he'd asked. I was so caught up in the fact that Wilson Butler wanted me, that I never questioned him.
I'd never had sex before, so when things progressed to his bedroom, I thought him demanding I do this, or do that, was how sex worked. He should know, right? After all the girls he'd been with, he would be the perfect person to teach me, right? But he was never satisfied. Nothing was ever good enough for him. Nothing I did was right...
Do you have any idea what that feels like? You're in the bed naked with someone, at your most vulnerable, and they are telling you that you aren't any good. They don't sugar coat it by saying 'practice makes perfect', with a loving look. They say 'I thought that girl Sandy from the bar was bad at sucking cock, but you're way worse. Just stop'.
Do you know what that does to a person?
So I resigned that I was just one of those people sex didn't really work for. It seemed like a good idea at the time.
After awhile we stopped having sex all together. We didn't even try. It was nearly impossible for Wilson to get hard with me naked and him demanding I turn, this way or that.
I was too stupid and I to know better and believe me, I hated myself for it.
Gavin was the only person to truly arouse sexual feelings in me. That night in the coffee shop bathroom was the first time I'd ever had an orgasm. But maybe Gavin was just better at sex than Wilson. I had sex with Gavin that night because it was an impulse and I forced these troubled feelings deep down but now they were back with a vengeance.
I regarded that night as a fluke. But now this, this was different, today was different. That night was just sex and by the way Gavin was talking, he wanted more. How much more I wasn't sure and I didn't trust myself enough to ask. And I'm ashamed to say I didn't trust Gavin enough to answer. After Wilson, there was no way I could do this again.
"What are you thinking?"
How long I stood there lost in thought was beyond me, but Gavin's rich voice shocked me out of my thoughts so unexpectedly, I almost yelped.
I still wouldn't meet his gaze. I continued to stare at the hypnotizing fluttering of his heartbeat pulsing at the hollow of his throat. My jaw clenched and my eyes clouded over with tears.
I couldn't do this.
Gavin had the potential to hurt me a lot worse than Wilson ever could, and self-preservation just wouldn't allow that.
"Look at me."
There was no way I was going to do that. All I needed was to see pity in his eyes, and I'd be done for. Gavin knew better than to try and force me to look at him. He knew I was fighting back tears, but I'm certain he would never know why, and I wasn't about to tell him.
I felt cold. A lot colder than I should have been having consumed all that beer and being so close to Gavin's over heated body.
"Please, Isabelle," Gavin said as he stepped closer to me and wrapped me up in his securing embrace. If he felt me flinch at his touch, he didn't let on that the noticed.
He and I weren't supposed to be like this. Things were supposed to be easy with Gavin. The label of best friends was supposed to wipe away all the awkwardness. He was supposed to pull my hair, eat off my plate, borrow money and never give it back. We were supposed to go to the movies together, get drunk and talk about people together. He was supposed to tell me to shut up when I was in one of my moods. We weren't supposed to be like this. We were supposed to be best friends...not this.
The desperation in his voice was almost too much. This wasn't right. Gavin sounded sincere, but Wilson taught me that was an emotion easily faked.
I didn't want to, but I was so tired of fighting everything else, that I didn't fight his clutches. I'd been pretending for too long, and it was catching up with me.
I melted into him, and let the scorching heat of his body envelope me. It felt good, but this was how I got into trouble in the first place. Almost immediately, I threw my guard back up. I didn't push Gavin away, but I stopped hugging him. Eventually his grip on he loosened until he got the hint and let me go.
The cold came rushing back to me.
"I'm sorry Isabelle, I didn't mean to push you, but please tell me what's wrong."
The pleading in his tone was almost enough to get me to raise my eyes to him. Almost. Pleading was sincerity's distant cousin, and both were very easily fabricated. I could have looked Gavin in the eye, but I was afraid I'd see the same deception there that I'd seen in Wilson's eye. I was even more afraid that since Gavin knew me so well, he'd be better at hiding it. I didn't look up.
I couldn't tell Gavin what was wrong with me now. Voicing my fears out loud was way worse than just hearing them in my head. The fact that I kept the real details of my relationship with Wilson a secret was slowly chewing a hole though me.
My stomach churned as I could feel Gavin's gaze burning into the top of my head. I had to get out of there. It didn't matter that I didn't have my phone, or keys, or anything else for that matter. I was a coward, and I was going to do what I do best. Run away.
Wilson really did a number on me. You'd think that after a lifetime surrounded by men, I would have seen it coming – nope, and that made the pain that much worse.
Without really thinking about what I was doing, I stepped around Gavin in what little space there was between us, with every intention of bolting for the door. Gavin though, didn't let me get very far. I watched his Timbs come into view as he stepped in front of me. With the lightest touch on my hip, he held me in place. I could have pushed past him, I guess, but it was the feather light touch that kept my feet rooted to the ground. It was such a contrast from the way we usually touched each other, that I was puzzled at first.
It seemed that just the tip of his finger forced me in reverse, my feet peddling numbly backwards until I hit the pool table. I stood there, still staring down at his shoes, not sure what to do. My mind didn't seem to be working fast enough to come up with an adequate solution to this disastrous turn of events.
Gavin made sure I was flush with the table, then pressed his hips into mine. There was nothing sexual about the gesture even though I could feel the length of his erection pressing into me. He did it to keep me in place as he moved his hands to my hair.
He didn't say a word as we stood in the living room of his apartment hip to hip. He pulled my hair free from its messy bun and ran his fingers through my long curls, fanning them out about my shoulders and face. With my hair as a flimsy barrier, I began to feel better.
Gavin's feather like caresses stilled at my neck and he leaned closer to plant a kiss on my forehead. It almost seemed like he didn't mind that I lacked the courage to meet his gaze. His touches weren't sexual, but they made me feel all warm and tingly inside. I felt safe. For the first time, in a long time, I felt safe.
Without so much as a grunt, or an expression of exertion, he grabbed me by the hips and hoisted me up onto the lip of the pool table. The table allowed us to be eye level with each other, but I still wouldn't meet his gaze. Instead I watched his chest. I examined the weave of his undershirt with undaunted concentration. I began to question everything about it.
Where was it made? How long did it take to make it? How many yards of string was it made from? My mind was flitting from question to question – anything to keep my mind off the present. I was one hiccup away from freaking the fuck out.
Gavin stepped closer to me as I tried to imagine the process of his shirt being made. He gripped me around my thighs and pulled me closer to the edge of the table. He separated my legs so he could fit between them. My arms hung limply at my sides as I tried not to imagine where this situation could end up.
My mind had been working on overdrive for so long that it seemed to have run out of steam. I didn't feel capable of rational thought at this point, so I sat there. I didn't want to think anymore. If I were being honest, I didn't want to feel anymore either. Maybe Gavin would tire himself out if I just let him do what he wanted. Then I wouldn't have to run from him, he'd run from me. Then I could walk away and never come back. I didn't think there would be anyway I'd be able to look him in the eye ever again. Self pity was eating me alive.
Isn't it funny how things change?
Gavin said nothing as he stood in between my legs. Judging by the lump I felt, I knew his erection still hadn't subsided. Even with the physical presence of his arousal between us, his caresses still didn't feel sexual; they felt comforting. He continued to twirl my hair through his fingers. He ran his hands down my sides as he searched for my eyes. I turned away, not wanting him to see my face.
He placed both hands on the pool table on either side of me, and leaned down. It was the pose of someone who was about to give up, and I couldn't help but sigh in relief. Finally, this would all be over.
Gavin watched my profile then stood. He slid his hands to my lower back as if trying to hold me in place and leaned my body towards his. I would have been afraid of falling if his frame wasn't supporting mine. More gently than I could ever have imagined, he pressed his lips to my temples. Once he was certain that I wasn't going anywhere, he slid his hands up to the base of my neck.
I tired not to flinch as he touched me. The flood of memories of the things Wilson did to me made me feel dirty. I wouldn't be good enough for anyone, and Gavin was about to find that out. I tried to tell him the nice way, but he just wouldn't listen. This wasn't how I wanted our friendship to end. If anything, I wanted us to be friends long into our old age. Now I'd have to wait until he found out for himself and decided I was just as useless as Wilson said I was.
God, how pathetic am I?
I sat stoically, waiting for him to reach his conclusion.
I closed my eyes as I felt the thumbs of his hands gently press my chin higher. I heard his sharp intake of breath and didn't realize I'd been crying until I felt his lips connect with the wetness on my cheeks.
I remained still, determined to not feel any more humiliation than I already felt. Crying is a useless emotion, but I couldn't help it.
I got close, but never managed to keep the tears from falling. I never cried, especially in front of someone else. This was beyond humiliating. Now I was crying and didn't even know it. Surely my best friend had to be having some second thoughts now. Maybe he'd realize I wasn't worth it and let me go. I could only hope.
He continued to plant feather-light kisses on my face. The tears were falling in earnest now and I didn't even try to stop them. I kept my eyes closed as I felt him kiss them away. He moved to my eyelids, then my cheekbones then back to my forehead. Once he kissed the furrows from my brow, he moved to my jaw.
Gavin began to kiss down my neck and tickled my collarbone with his growing stubble. I stifled the moan that cautioned escape. If I just kept a clear head, I wouldn't get caught up. I'd be able to wait it out. Surely, Gavin wouldn't want to expend that much energy on me.
Keeping a clear head was easier said then done.
Gavin began to hold me tighter to him as his kisses increased in potency. I felt his tongue snake out of his mouth and tease the dip in my neck where my collarbones joined. He traced my jaw with his lips allowing his tongue to sneak out every now and then, his teeth nipping at my chin. I was beginning to see why he liked it so much when I did that to him. Involuntarily, I moaned into his mouth as he moved to kiss the edges of my lips.
I didn't realize until he grabbed my hands and laced his fingers through mine that I'd been shaking.
"God Isabelle," he never called me Isabelle. Here it comes, I thought as I squeezed my eyes shut. It was almost over.