Ace in the Hole Ch. 03

Chapter 3

"I've been selfish," Sandra said on one spring morning as we were taking a walk. It was a beautiful day outside, and we both decided to skip out respective classes to take a stroll together. It had been a wonderful, romantic stroll, and there was little mention of sex. Strangely, I found myself happier that way. What I had with Sandra was fun. It was exhilarating. But it was confusing and stressful and ultimately unsatisfying. I missed the way our relationship was before the day she'd decided to strip naked in front of me.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"For the past month, you've been pleasing me pretty much every day," she continued. "And it's been great. But I really love you, and I haven't been fair. I've been selfish to you."

I perked up a little. This sounded promising.

"Oh?" I prompted, practically begging her to continue with the single word.

"From now on," she said, "you can kiss any part of me that you want."

I smiled. That was something. Actually, that's all I had wanted in the first place. But somehow, the victory felt hollow now. After all of the oral sex, I had come to expect sex out of our relationship. Anything else seemed almost like a placation rather than an honest effort at fairness. That was exactly what I hadn't wanted. I didn't want everything to be about sex. And yet there we were. In my lust and dismay, I decided to take what I could get. I had wanted this. I was going to take it.

"Then shall we?" I asked.

I leaned in to kiss her slowly, and she tilted her head to accommodate my approach. My heart was racing. My head was spinning. Somehow, the lips on her face had become more tantalizing than the lips on her pussy. I closed the gap quickly, but when our lips were about to touch, she backed away.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I can't do this."

"What?" I stumbled, confused.

"I just can't do this," she repeated. "I can't kiss you. I'm asexual. I can't be sexually attracted to you, so it just doesn't feel right."

"Sandra," I groaned. "Why did you do that?"

"I'm sorry," she repeated. "I'm so sorry, that was really mean."

"It's okay," I replied. "I get it."

I didn't get it. But I loved her. It wasn't lust and it wasn't a crush; I loved Sandra with every fiber of my being. I wasn't about to let a little reneging on a kiss get in the way of our happy relationship.

"You always do," she smiled. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," I replied.

I took her hand and we continued on the stroll, but my thoughts were distant and cloudy.

"Spring break is coming up," she said, breaking the silence. "It would be nice if we could do something."

"I was thinking the same thing," I replied. "Maybe we could go to New York."

Sandra laughed. Oh, I loved her laugh. "Maybe someday, but spring break is next week."

I paused for a moment, trying to think, but nothing else came to mind. Between the two of us, we were broke.

"I know," she continued, reading my mind. "I guess we could just hang out at my place."

"I don't think your mom likes me very much," I winced. Sandra and I both still lived at home. There were upsides and downsides. Her mom was one of the downsides. Not that I didn't like her. I really liked her a lot. I just always got the feeling that, no matter how friendly she acted, she didn't want me there.

"Of course she does," Sandra replied. "She likes you a lot. She's always saying good things about you."

"I don't know," I sighed. "You said it yourself. She doesn't want our relationship to be long-term."

"Well, she will learn to live with it," Sandra smiled. "You and I are going to be together. She knows it."

"I like it when you talk like that."

"I like talking like that."

It would be an understatement to say that Sandra's mother was a little bit intimidating. She was just an older, bustier version of her daughter in appearance, but there was something odd behind her eyes. Petra was born in the Soviet Union, long enough ago that she remembered communism. There always seemed to be something dark festering jut under the surface, even as she joked and made pleasantries. But worse than that, Sandra adored her. Sandra did everything that her mother said. She never went against her wishes. And Petra wished me gone.

"We could always do my place," I suggested.

"Mom doesn't want me borrowing the car," Sandra countered. "At least, not for non-essential reasons."

"Love isn't essential?" I teased.

"You know what I mean," she smirked.

"You should get your own car," I reminded her.

"Then I wouldn't have a reason to see you all the time. You're an excellent chauffeur."

"You don't need an excuse to see me, you know. My arms are always open to you."

She stopped, a gentle breeze blowing her hair across her shoulders. In the lighting, her hair looked almost amber colored. She stared at me with her big, hazel eyes and sighed.

"I do need a reason," she said. "Otherwise, I should be working. I have homework and scholarship essays and a thousand projects I could be doing instead."

"So you think you need to do the essential things unless you have a good excuse?"

She nodded.

"Love isn't essential?"

There was no smirk this time. She simply resumed walking. I didn't take her hand again. We didn't talk for the rest of the walk, both lost in our own thoughts. Feet apart yet trapped in distant worlds. When we finally parted ways, she suggested that we quickly retreat to a dark corner and have a little fun. I told her I didn't have the time and turned to leave, hurt.

As we walked away in opposite directions, I muttered under my breath, "For an asexual, you certainly have a one-track mind."

"What?" she called over her shoulder back to me.

"Nothing."