Who I could sense all around me but would flee the moment I tried to grasp her with my hands.
I’d always thought it would feel different with Megan because we were tied together so deeply by our cursed past and the cruelties of fate. But, though I definitely felt an undeniable connection with her, it wasn’t comparable to what I felt with Selene.
No, it didn’t stretch that high. Didn’t tunnel so far in or dive down that deep.
It didn’t hurt as much. It wasn’t all-consuming.
It didn’t plumb the void I wanted to fill with kisses from Tinkerbell’s magnificent lips.
It did not achieve the sensual delights of her small, delectable hands, which I longed to feel on me again. They were the only ones capable of washing away the filth and of touching my soul.
“Shit!” I snapped in frustration as I struggled to work on a project I wasn’t processing the first fucking thing about. Everything fell apart after I gave in to Megan. I had been fine at first; I’d been screwing anonymous strangers, and it had been going great. Then, because of her, I found myself in the eye of a bewildering storm.
I’d almost done it again, though, right there on the couch the next morning after we had an argument. But then one fateful slip-up saved me from making the same mistake again.
I’d whispered a name. It wasn’t hers…
I’d thought it would never happen. That name that I always kept on the tip of my tongue had wriggled its way to freedom on a whisper. It was a whisper that had been waiting too long to burst forth into the world because the other women were not enough. I needed Babygirl’s color, the shape of her, her words, and her feelings.
I needed my Tinkerbell to fly me away from reality.
“Coffee?” The sound of Megan’s voice drew my attention to her smiling face. I had no idea how she could be so good-humored after what we’d done. She shut the door to my mentor’s office and walked briskly toward me. Her black outfit was sleek and sophisticated, but her prominent curves no longer had the same effect upon me. I’d sated myself on them, and my hunger had vanished, like it had done with all the other women.
Except for Selene.
The more I tasted her skin, the more I craved her.
The more I kissed her, the hungrier I became.
The more I pushed inside her, the more I wanted to stay there.
Because that was where I belonged—my Neverland.
Did I have to fuck Megan to figure that out? Maybe.
I convinced myself that I only thought about Selene when I was in the others because we lacked an intellectual connection. But that was something that I had with Megan, and so, like the asshole that I was, I decided to test myself with her. I wanted to see if it was possible that I was deluding myself about the feelings I’d shared with Babygirl, but I was wrong. Even the woman I’d thought of as such an imposing presence that she would obliterate the memory of Babygirl had come to nothing.
It didn’t have anything to do with physical attraction or intellectual understanding. It wasn’t about shared history or the abuse we’d both suffered. I simply needed my Pearl to find myself.
“Thanks,” I answered, trying to make the moment less uncomfortable.
Megan set the steaming mug down on my desk, licked her lips nervously, and sighed as she tucked a bit of black hair behind her ear. It had been just as much of a mistake for her as it had been for me.
I could read her; her green eyes couldn’t hide anything from me.
We shared an apartment; there was no way to go on like nothing had happened, but at the same time, she could feel me growing distant. I didn’t touch her anymore or tease her with sexual innuendos or dirty jokes.
“No problem. Still working? How’s it going?” Her voice was even.
“Not great. I don’t get a fucking thing about this,” I admitted with a snort. I sat up from the suddenly uncomfortable desk chair and grabbed my coffee, walking over to the big glass windows that offered a panoramic view of Chicago.
All I ever did was fall on my ass and get back on my feet only to stumble once again. I never got it right.
I felt like a ship adrift at sea with no compass.
I didn’t know what choices to make. I didn’t know where to go or who I could talk to—who I could trust.
“You need to stop blaming yourself about stuff that’s not your fault.” Megan broke the silence, moving closer to me. I could smell her perfume, and it was pleasant, but it didn’t stir me like it had before. “What happened between us was something that I let happen,” she went on. She looked calm, but I knew that she wasn’t really. She’d been walking around with a wounded look lately and getting lost in thought. Proof that she’d been hurt by my careless attitude. After all, I was the prick who fucked her and called her by another woman’s name and thereby ruined everything, our friendship most of all. If “friendship” was, indeed, what it could be called.
