“That’s good to hear. Or is that another lie?”
“I didn’t mean to lie.” I repeated the words that I had cried to him so many times in the past.
“If it had only been one small lie and you told me the truth, then I would have understood. But you perpetuated a fabrication of your life.” He stared at me with a hostile expression as his words tore into my soul. “Everything was a lie.”
“It wasn’t all a lie.” I bit my lip. I did love you, I wanted to scream at him. I did love you and you were supposed to love me. You were supposed to forgive me. But I kept quiet.
“You’d still be lying if I hadn’t caught you.” He shook his head furiously. “It was all just a game for you, wasn’t it? A high school girl caught up in a high school game.”
“I wasn’t in high school.”
“Close enough.” He looked away from me. “What difference does a couple of months away make?”
I remained silent, not knowing what to say. He was right, of course. I hadn’t known when or how I was going to tell him the truth. Of course I had felt guilty. I’d felt extremely guilty. Especially when he asked to meet my friends and family. I pretended I’d fallen out with the girls I’d gone to Doug’s with that first night and that I hadn’t made any new friends yet. Family was easy to discuss as they were all in Florida: I told him that one day we could make a trip for him to meet them and he had been fine with that. It got more difficult when he asked about work and wanting to meet my colleagues and attend one of the many happy hours I talked about. I had joined some study groups and told him I was trying to bond with workmates. I’d used sex to shut him up every time he brought up the topic. Aside from that, everything else was going swimmingly. Neither of us were great cooks, so we took up a gourmet cooking class together every Saturday morning and cooked dinner for each other every Saturday night, before making love for hours on end. I suppose eventually that would have gotten old and we would have wanted to do more than cook and have sex, but we were still in the honeymoon phase of our relationship. It was easy for me to skip the alcohol questions. I told him after the hangover I’d had that first night, I didn’t really want to drink much anymore, so I only had a few sips of wine when we were at home. When he asked to see my driver’s license picture one day, I told him I had lost it on the subway and was going to get a new one when I had more time. It didn’t matter much, as I didn’t drive, and we never spoke of it again.
Brandon loved to show me new things in the city. I was his first real girlfriend since he had left college. I tried not to think of that too much, though, as I always felt jealous when I thought about his ex-fiancé, and the subsequent women he had bedded. I didn’t like to think of him with other women. I wanted to be the only one in his life and in his memories. He laughed frequently when I asked him who he loved the most, who he thought of the most, who he wanted to be with the most. He thought it was cute that I had small insecurities about his past. He’d always kiss my forehead and tell me I was the one and only in his life, forever and always, and I would melt against him happily.
Everything was going perfectly, up until that day. I had organized my schedule so well that even I forgot that I was just an 18-year-old freshman at Columbia University and not an entry-level associate at a marketing firm in the city.
“I’ve got a work presentation tomorrow,” he’d groaned one night as I ran my hands down to his boxer shorts. “I’m not even prepared.”
“Is that your way of telling me no?” I’d laughed at him and kissed his nipples. “Are you really telling me no?”
“I know, call me an old man or something. But I’ve got to go and give a talk and I have nothing ready. I’ll have to leave early in the morning to prepare and then catch a train to the Upper West Side.”
“Aww.” I’d not really been listening, as I was too busy trying to entice him. If I’d paid better attention, instinct bells would have gone off when he said Upper West Side.
“I can tell that you care.” He laughed and pulled me on top of him. “What’s your day like tomorrow? Can you get out of work early or meet me for lunch?”
“Hmmm.” I rubbed myself back and forth on him as he reached up and grabbed my breasts. “I’m not sure. I think I have a meeting.” I gasped as he leaned up and took one of my nipples into his mouth and sucked. “I can see what I can do.” I moaned as I increased my pace as I dry-rubbed him. His cock was hanging out of his boxers and was rubbing up against me through my panties.