Page 21 of This Time Around

“Does he know we hooked up?”

“Fuck off, Cash,” I mutter in distaste, continuing to move past him.

“You’re wasting your time with him. You know that right? Luke is not a guy who does no-strings arrangements. He’s the type of guy who’s looking for a wife, Blake. He wants someone he can take home to mom, and spend holidays with.”

His words sting, but I don’t let him see the way they penetrate the armor I’ve built around myself.

“Good thing I’ve already been all those things to him. I know his mama well,” I point out, pushing into him. “And we’ve spent many holidays together. Don’t you dare try to tell me a goddamn thing about Lucas Jennings!” I seethe, “I know my fucking worth, Cash. I’m very comfortable in my skin, and confidence is not something I’m lacking. So, adjust your bruised ego and move the fuck on.” This time I push past him and don’t stop until I get to my car.

The cool air invades my senses as I make my way through the parking lot, each breath a welcome reset. When I close the door to my car and find myself alone in the comfort of my space, I laugh. What the fuck did I ever see in him? A pretty face and the desire to have a love that can withstand any obstacle clearly clouded me. There is no way in hell I will ever let someone like Cash diminish my self worth. I pull out of the lot, leaving behind the weight of it all, setting my sights on the road ahead-one leading to the people who truly matter and my first day off work in longer than I can remember.

Finding New Treasures

“This feeling’s got me weak in the knees”

-Mandy Moore

Blake

“B,” he moans as he laces his fingers into my hair. “Fuck, baby. Your mouth feels incredible.”

The view from my knees looking up at Luke’s toned body, arms covered in intricate ink, is making my core ache. I feel the heat building between my legs as I take him deeper into my throat, hollowing out my cheeks and sucking in slightly.

He curls his fingers, dancing them across the back of my head as his grip tightens and he holds on as he fucks my face with rapid thrusts. He pulls out just enough for me to catch my breath as tears trail down my cheeks. With one hand I wipe them away, and I look up to meet his whisky gaze.

But when I wipe my eyes a second time, he disappears. My sight is blurred by the sun shining through the curtains in my room, and it slams me into reality.

“Fuck, I have to stop dreaming about him like that,” I scold myself as I drag my ass out of bed.

I wander over to the bathroom and splash cold water on my face, trying to cool off.

I’m not sure what Luke actually looks like naked, I’m not even sure how far up his arms the ink decorating them travels, but if the real life view is even half of what my imagination conjures up in my sleep, he is one blessed man.

A few cold splashes on my face have done nothing to calm the wake of desire forging inside me after that dream, but food is number one on my list before I retreat to the shower to wash away the sweat formed by the heat of my imaginary rendezvous.

I walk over to the fridge and pull out a jar of overnight oats and pour a glass of iced coffee I’ve had brewing in the fridge.

I watch the cream swirl around mixing with the coffee, making intricate designs as the two colors become one. They mix with the same deliberate intensity Luke and I did in my dream.

“Damn it, Blake,” I scold myself for the second time since I woke up.

Silence is a clear enemy this morning, I clearly can’t be trusted in the company of my own thoughts, sneaky little suckers.

I hit play on my playlist and dance around the kitchen in my t-shirt and socks singing at the top of my lungs as I casually take bites of my overnight oats. When paired with iced coffee, it makes the perfect breakfast for a wandering soul like me who can’t be bothered with little things like quickly eating breakfast or drinking a cup of coffee before they go cold. It’s better when they start cold, and stay that way.

After about an hour of dancing around and exercising my toddler-like eating tendencies, I decided to hop in the shower and get ready for the day.

I don’t get many days off work but when I do, having no agenda is the best agenda.

The best part of not having an agenda is allowing myself one more day before I wash my hair. It might possibly be one of my least favorite things to do, so after I’m dressed, I throw on a baseball hat and head out the door.

With nowhere to go, I’ve got nothing but time. There is a beautiful park not too far from my apartment with walking trails that lay beneath a canopy of maple trees, and the best part is the cutest little shopping district is right on the other side.

As I walk down the path, I can’t help but admire the serenity of the scene before me. The park is full today, with families out on morning strolls, various spontaneous games taking place in the field, and dogs sniffing everything they pass. I love the bustle, especially when it’s punctuated by the melody echoing in my earbuds.

About 3 songs into my playlist, I reach the shops and stop to look around, deciding where I will indulge in my guilty pleasure first, aimlessly shopping for things I don’t need.

Oh, that’s the perfect place, I think to myself as I walk towards my favorite thrift store. There is absolutely nothing better than a thrift store, or a good garage sale, for that matter. I love breathing new life into a forgotten treasure. Repurposing old items and making them into something spectacular.