But now, with Jeremy coming to live with me I knew it would have to stop. There was no way we could carry on forever. There would come a time when it had to stop, and having Jeremy with me might just be the end of it. A part of me broke with the thought, but another part of me knew this was the best solution.
The problem was it may already be too late. My heart already ached at the thought of not seeing him again, of not feeling his touch, of not ever hearing his raspy voice again. I felt conflicted about that because the only boy I ever loved with all my heart was Dean. I still dreamt about him, too. I still called out to him in my sleep. I still wondered what he was doing, if he was married, had kids. It hurt to think about it all. In a sense, I would feel completely betrayed by that. He always promised he would come back for me. Not anyone else. Me. I still couldn’t understand it and it was probably that which made it hard to let go.
My doorbell ringing pulled me from my deep thoughts. It was funny how you could sometimes stand there in a daze and the minutes just pass you by without you thinking about it.
I walked out of my bedroom to open my front door. Ian was standing there with his normal bottles of red and white wine. He stood there, his hair cropped, his blue shirt buttoned up to his chest, sporting the cheekiest smile he could muster. He inhaled deeply, just like he always did, and gave me that satisfactory smile when he knew the Bolognaise was on.
“You look gorgeous, Tyler,” he purred, giving me the once over. “Practically perfect in every way.”
I laughed. “Hey, I’m no Mary Poppins, Ian.” I gestured for him to walk in and he followed me into the kitchen. I had to keep my eye on him just in case he stole some of my sauce when I wasn’t looking.
“Oh, I think you are. Still on for when we turn thirty? You could stay at home and make me Bolognaise every night.” He stood there for a moment, scrutinising me. “There’s something different about you. What is it?”
I shook my head, getting a little panicked that he could see right through me. As a nervous gesture, I tucked my hair behind my ear and fidgeted a little. He watched, then gasped a little when he saw my wrists and neck.
Rushing over, he grabbed my wrists to inspect them. “What the fuck is this, Tyler? Has someone hurt you?” I tried to let go of his grip, but he was pulling my hair out of the way so he could inspect my neck. “Shit. What the hell have you gotten yourself into, girl?”
Pulling away, I smiled nervously and started stirring the sauce. “It’s nothing, Ian. Just a little bit of playing, that’s all.” I couldn’t meet his eyes because I felt somehow ashamed to admit I was like this. Ian didn’t know I was sleeping with anyone, let alone playing these types of games with him.
Suddenly, Ian was intimately right beside me and I had no choice but to look up. His smile was wide as he suddenly pushed himself into me. “You kinky fucking bitch, Tyler. I never knew.”
“Oh, fuck off,” I said, throwing a small piece of spaghetti at him.
“I never knew you were like this, Tyler. I don’t quite know how to feel about it all.”
I rolled my eyes. “Well, judging by your sudden third leg, I would suggest maybe the thought turned you on.”
Ian growled a little in my ear, then moved away with a smile. “If you ever want to play games with me, you know where I am.”
Turning my head to him, I scowled. “Of course, Ian. You’re always so ready for action. Speaking of which, have you gotten any lately?”
Ian sat down and huffed. “Not as much as you, it would seem. Why are you changing the subject anyway? I never knew you were seeing anyone. You never said anything.”
I looked down at the sauce. “That’s because there’s been nothing to tell, really. I’ve met someone. I don’t know his name, but we have an arrangement.”
Getting up from his seat, Ian grabbed two glasses and poured us each a glass of wine. “Fucking hell, that’s hot. I never knew you were like that, babes.” Ian cocked his eyebrow and was about to say something else when the doorbell rang again. “I’ll get it!” he shouted as he ran for the door. I heard him greeting Louisa as her chirpy voice radiated into the kitchen.
“Something smells absolutely fucking divine in here!” Louisa shouted.
“I told you she did a mean Spaghetti Bolognaise. The best in London.”
Shaking my head, I grabbed another glass for Louisa and poured her some wine. “I wouldn’t go that far, Ian.”
They sat down and it was then I noticed what she was wearing. “Fuck, Louisa. What have you got on? It’s hot!”
Louisa got up, twirled around to show me her little black number, and sat back down again. “Do you like it? It’s Donna Karan. I saved for ages to buy this.”