“I know what happened that night, with my dad… I remember things I don’t want to remember, and I’ve seen the police reports from the parts I don’t. But I can’t get past the feeling I’m missing something. I thought I would be okay a few months later. I knew he was gone, and I knew that I was safe, but then the nightmares started, and now,this.” It’s hard to voice my unease about that night, simply because it makes me sound crazy. “I’ve done the research, in fact, I’ve done it multiple times, hoping the results will change, but they never do. The therapist and the internet just excuse what I see in my dreams as exactly that. I see myself curled on the floor, out cold, hearing voices that I know weren’t actually there. Research says it’s just my mind trying to create its own version of events. To bridge the gap in my memory,” I pause, considering how to sound a little less delusional. It’s not uncommon, and actually happens to people outside of trauma, too. Our brains don’t like gaps, so we unconsciously pull from other places, other memories, creating something easier to accept. Sometimes we know these memories to be fictitious; other times, we truly believe in the version of events we craft for ourselves.
“I don’t know what to believe anymore. I would have thought three years would be enough for my brain to accept the gaps, but I still find myself playing out different scenarios that just can’t be true.” I let my body sag as the weight of my stress feels a little lighter.
“Oh, Zander…” She pulls me into a tight hug. She doesn’t offer advice, she doesn’t try to explain what I’m experiencing, she simply holds me, and it’s exactly what I needed. I don’t want her worrying about me, though. Not when she’s facing so much, but I can’t resist taking the comfort she offers. It was definitely a learning curve for us both; her having to set limits onher affection, and me having to recognise that kindness does exist without conditions.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jules - Three months later
Age 19
“Cocktail or…?”
“Are you trying to get me drunk?” I ask Zander. He’s currently working the bar, all confidence and charisma with his teasing smiles and sneaky winks. He leans across the bar, closing the distance until his mouth is beside my ear–
“Maybe I am,” his voice, smooth and low, flows through me like thick, sweet honey. The suggestion lacing his words isn’t lost on me, and the thought of the freedom and courage alcohol gave me last time is almost tempting. He nips my earlobe between his teeth before sucking it into his mouth. The tickle of his breath, along with the feel of his warm and wet mouth around my ear, sends a surge of confidence straight from my crotch and out of my mouth.
“I want to go further tonight,” I tell him before I lose the confidence his attention fills me with. Zander pulls his head back sharply, forgetting his mouth was attached to my ear and almost taking it with him. His eyes are wide, looking almost black in the dim lighting the pub offers. His mouth moves,but no words come out. “If– I mean, we don’t have to, I just thought–”Too far, Jules.Zander’s silence fills me with dread. I was stupid to think I even had a shot; he’s never shown interest in guys before, let alone me, so why am I pushing things? Maybe he thought it was what he wanted; everything has been so unsettled lately, it would make sense for him to cling to someone. Or maybe he just wants me in private? Either way, he looks ready to jump over the bar and out the door. I swivel on the stool and go to stand, not wanting to embarrass myself further. A tight grip wraps around my arm resting on the bar, it’s squeezing so hard I can feel the blood trying to pulse through to my hand.
“Wait.” Is all I get before the pressure is gone, leaving a throbbing in my arm and my chest. My path is immediately blocked by Zander when I go to stand. I don’t need to look to know it’s him; I would recognise him anywhere, his presence demands all of my attention. We’re standing so close that I can feel the intensity of his eyes on my face, but I don’t look up. His palm turns up between us, each finger spread wide–
“Come with me, Jules.” It’s not a question or a suggestion, it’s a command; he knows I will. I always do.
My hand slides along his, our palms brushing and our fingers twining together like they’re two halves of the same piece. He walks us around the bar, keeping me pulled close behind him. My hand brushes his backside multiple times, and it only adds to the anticipation and lust hanging heavy and undeniable between us. When we reach the door that reads ‘Staff Only,’Zander punches in a code, and the lock clicks open.Slowly, he turns to face me, his hooded eyes roam my face, then my body as he sinks his teeth into his lower lip.
“Did you mean it?” He asks, his voice almost inaudible. He sounds…nervous?
“Yes.” There’s no mistaking the false bravado in my voice, but I need him to know I want this, I wanthim.His eyes make another pass over my body before he nods his head once, pushing through the door and pulling me along with him.
I don’t get a chance to take in my surroundings; all I know is it’s dark, confined, and the perfect place for Zander to press his body into mine and push us up against the bare brick wall. The stone is cool against my heated skin, scraping into my back in a way that should be uncomfortable. His mouth finds mine immediately. His stubble rubbing against my upper lip creates the most delicious burn, his kiss instantly soothes. It’s fast, frantic, and needy. Our hands are a tangle of desperation as we grasp and fumble in the dark. One minute, Zander has my face between his palms; next, the swell of my behind. We can’t seem to get our fill fast enough; the anticipation of both wanting more, but neither knowing how much, is as thrilling as it is terrifying. I can feel the possessiveness of his hold as he squeezes and kneads my flesh, pulling our hips closer and dragging our clothed lengths together. The contact draws a gasp from my lips, which only encourages him to do it again, harder.
“Feel good?” He rasps against my mouth. I moan in answer, the overstimulation threatening to make me cry out. “Again?” He pulls me close. I drop my head to his shoulder and squeeze my eyes closed, nodding… panting… melting. Zander slowly grinds against my painfully hard erection, sending a shiver of pleasure through my entire body when he presses against my tip. I can hear the noise behind his lips that he’s trying to keep to himself, and it only serves to increase the thrill of what we’re doing.
On the next roll of his hips, the cold wetness in my boxers sticks to my skin. Usually, the sensation would gross me out so much I’d be stripping off and running to the nearest shower. But now, I want to strip off for an entirely different reason. I want to feel the heat of his skin against mine, to let my fingers explore the light smattering of hair that adorns his chest, and I want to watch the rise of goosebumps appearing wherever my hands trail.
It’s then I realise he’s stopped moving. He’s leaning down, resting his forehead against my shoulder, his hair has fallen forward, covering his face. The worry starts to creep in, did we take it too far? I tilt my face to look at him, but he doesn’t move; he just rests there as he works on his ragged breathing.
“Zan..?”
“Mhhm?”
“Did I do something wrong?” His head whips up and turns to face me. A lazy smile takes over his mouth, and his eyes drop to my lips as I roll them between my teeth.
“No, Jules.”
“So why did you stop?”
“I almost came…”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh,” he huffs out a laugh at myrealisation
“So you don’t want to?” I don’t get it. I think I was pretty close, too, and I definitely don’t think I could have shown the restraint he just did, sticky boxers be damned.
“Of course I want to, I just didn’t know if you would want me to…”
“I want you to feel good, Zan,” I assure him. “Can we keep going?” I ask, hoping he agrees. I always want to know everything there is to know about him, and the thought of getting to see his face twisted in pleasure gives me the confidence to encourage him. He lets out a satisfied moan at my suggestion before asking–
