Page 4 of My Weakness

I’ve seen pictures of her mother; Ava kept a few in her room when she was growing up, and she is her double. Both have the same rich red hair and striking green eyes — her eyes are even greener than mine and mine get lots of comments, but hers? Hers are a fucking tropical jungle, and I’m the sucker that gets lost in them.

It’s getting harder and harder to stay away from her, and to listen when I remind myself that she’s off-limits and can never be mine. I’ve found myself popping to the house more often over the last year, just to try and catch a glimpse of her. Like now for instance, I’m currently walking through the front door of the house I haven’t lived in for four years in the hopes I’ll see her before I start my day. She’s better than any caffeine kick.

“River, what are you doing here, darling? Is everything alright?” My mom comes walking out of the kitchen, still in her pajamas.

She might have married a millionaire and not be struggling to make ends meet now, but it hasn’t changed who she is. She’ll happily walk around the house in her sleepwear, no make-up and her hair pulled back from her face. Ava’s the same, and it’s one of the many things I love about the two of them.

I’ve spent far too many nights with women who spend an hour in the bathroom in the morning, thinking I’m still asleep, only to get straight back into bed and pretend they’ve just woken up.Fake as shit.

“I’m fine, Mom. I have a meeting around the corner and thought I’d pop in while I was passing.”

“That’s kind of you, dear.”

“Charley, please tell me you’ve brewed your nectar of the Gods. I need at least two cups before the movers get here.” Ava’s voice carries down the stairs as she makes her way down.

My eyes are glued to her legs, long and lithe legs that are revealed by her tiny sleep shorts. Legs that falter on the stairs when she catches sight of me.

“It’s ready and waiting in the kitchen for you, Ava.”

“You’re the best,” she says as she passes us. “Morning, River.” She throws a smile over her shoulder at me, and I swear my cock pulses in need.

Forget it, buddy. We don’t get her.

The thought of Ava moving out to a place of her own fills me with both relief and fear.

Relief that when I visit my mom from now on, I won’t be met with the twenty-two year old temptation that haunts me. Fear because I know where she’s moving to, I know that she’s alone, and I know that if I stop by, if I lose the battle with my will and pay her a visit, then there’s no one there to stop me from taking her. No parents to act as — completely unaware of their role — chaperones.

Ava walks back out into the foyer where I’m still standing with two mugs cradled in her hands.

“Here.” She holds one of them out to me. “I know you love this stuff almost as much as me.” I cautiously take the mug from her.Did she put laxative in it?

“It won’t bite,” she laughs as she sees me still eyeing the mug. She walks past me, back up the stairs, but not before her parting words cause a strike of lust to pass through me.

“But I might.”

***

I can’t concentrate. The meeting this morning went fine — the meeting that was very muchnotaround the corner from my mom’s house. But now, sitting in my office at the architectural firm I work for, the firm I’ve been at since I graduated with my masters four years ago, the firm I’m now a partner of, I can’t focus on a damn thing. My mind can’t stop playing over every interaction I’ve had with Ava since last night.

I don’t understand what she’s doing or why she’s being nice to me. For the past five years she’s fed into every bit of hate I’ve thrown her way, and made it easy for me to keep this façadegoing. Last night, things were different, though. Last night, she gave me that sweetness she gives everyone else.

Last night, my mask very nearly slipped.

***

It’s four p.m. and I’ve come to the conclusion that I won’t be getting anything productive done today, not project wise anyway. There is something I’ve been working on, though, something I’ve added to over the years and today my creativity has flowed effortlessly. Still, I don’t need to be in the office for that, that’s personal.

I pack up for the day and make my way down to my car. Pulling out of the parking lot our office shares with several others, I make a decision I definitely shouldn’t and head towards an apartment that offers me nothing but heartache.

Ava

The last box is finally unpacked. I am now the proud tenant of a beautiful little apartment close to the beach. Fishing my cell out of my denim cut-offs I message the girls.

Ava: I’m in

Harper: Can’t wait to see it tomorrow!

Mia: The last one finally leaves the nest