The Sex Surrogate(29)

“Oh, babe,” he said, shaking his head, rolling to his side and bringing me with him. His hand went to the side of my face again. “I'm so glad you feel that way.”

Not 'I feel the same way too'.

No.

He was glad I felt that way.

Because, for him, it wasn't personal.

I was a patient. A client. Nothing more.

“What's the matter?” he asked, watching my face with drawn-in brows.

“Nothing,” I lied. Outright lied.

Because everything was wrong.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” I said, moving away from him, sliding toward the other side of the bed, dragging the sheet with me, staying wrapped up. Hidden.

I closed the door, sinking almost immediately down the wall, wrapping my arms around my legs. What the hell did I get myself into? What made me think I would be prepared to take something like this situation on? I was so out of my depths. There was no way I could have gone into that arrangement and not developed confused feelings. I didn't have enough experience with the opposite sex, with intimacy, to not confuse sex for something deeper.

I buried my face in my hands, feeling the tears coming, hot and unstoppable. They just needed to get out. I needed to purge the misery.

I looked up.

But not there.

Not in his bathroom. In his office.

I got up, dropping the sheet, and went to the shower, flicking it on and climbing in. If the water was hot enough, it might be able to melt away a few layers of the feelings before I had to face Chase again. Before I needed to put on a brave face and act unaffected.

I could do it.

But then the shower curtain moved and Chase was stepping in with me.

“You should have told me you were taking a shower,” he said, coming in behind me. “I would have joined earlier.”

The anxiety rose, settling heavily toward anger and I felt myself straightening. I stayed under the spray, staring at the wall in front of me as he slid in closer. His hand moved out, landing right under my breasts and moving down.

I couldn't take it.

I just... couldn't.

I was done.

“Red,” I said, my voice firmer than I thought it would be.

His hand froze for a second, then moved quickly away.

“Ava, babe... what's wr...”

But I wasn't listening.

I reached for the only towel, drying as best I could as I rushed out into room, grabbing my dress and slipping it awkwardly up my still damp skin, dropping the towel. A naked Chase came storming sopping wet into the room, eyes worried.

“Ava, please talk to me...”

My boobs would settle into the bodice right, but I wasn't wasting time with that. I grabbed my keys and wallet, reached for the door to the office and went out.

Chase had grabbed the towel, wrapping it around his waist, following me out. “Ava!”

Then I was running, in through the waiting room, unlocking the door with clumsy fingers, then throwing myself out into the street.

He might have been willing to do a lot of things, but he wasn't going to haul out into the streets wearing only a towel. I had been counting on that as I took off at a dead run toward the parking garage, bare feet slapping on the pavement.

I shoved my key into the ignition with shaking hands, pulling out of the garage as quickly as possible, taking the back road so I wouldn't have to pass by his office.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.





After the Session





I turned the heat on full blast, my wet body shaking violently against the cold.

Oh, my god.

What the hell did I do?

Fuck.

I had acted like a damn maniac.

But I just... I couldn't let him keep touching me and pretend it didn't mean more than that to me. It meant more. Even if I was just dealing with some psychological condition. It was real. It was as real as anything. And it fucking hurt. And I just couldn't keep subjecting myself to that.

It was over.

I was done.

I wasn't going back.

He could keep the money.

Even though I was more fucked up than when I first went in.

Because I couldn't imagine anyone else every laying a hand on me again.

I ran into my apartment building, hauling the door open and...

“Congratulations!” Jake's and Shay's voice chorused, sitting on the couch, a big spread of food and booze in front of them.

One look at my face and wet, disheveled body, and Shay was jumping off the couch. “Ava, what happened?”

“I can't...” I said, helplessly, shaking my head.

“Did that fucker hurt you?” Jake asked, jumping up in all his testosterone-driven masculinity.

And I wanted to say yes.

Yes.

He hurt me.

But not that way.

I shook my head and the anger deflated, leaving only worry.

“Ava,” Shay's voice snapped

“I'm not going back,” I said simply, moving numbly toward my bed.

The pretty white dress fell to the ground and I reached in my closet for sweatpants and the biggest, warmest sweatshirt I owned, escaping underneath them and climbing into the warmth my bed promised, buried deep under the covers despite my dripping wet hair.

Buried, I let it out.

And I mean... let it out.

Loud, ugly sobs, making my body shake and my breath hitch. I buried my face in my hands, rocking my body for comfort. But there was no comfort.

Not only was I unable to have a normal sex life. No. On top of that, I was fucking head over heels for my god damn doctor. A man who didn't return my feelings. A man I was hellbent on never seeing again. A man who held the only piece of comfort I had in the whole world and would just continue living, letting other women rest their heads on my spot, offering them what should belong to me. But never would. And it never had. Not really.

Shay came in a while later, when the sobs subsided, the tears still streaming ruthlessly, and offered me tissues and a cup of tea. I took the tissues and let the tea become cold on my nightstand.

I didn't sleep. I stayed up, staring at the wall, letting the misery bury into my marrow.

“I don't think that's a good idea,” I heard Jake's distinct voice say.

Then there was mumbling.

“Jake, I dunno,” Shay's voice said, sounding like she was trying to reason with him. “You haven't seen her. She's like... bad. Maybe it will help.”

“Or it could make it worse.”

More mumbling.

I stopped listening, sniffling hard as a new round of tears started. My cheeks felt raw from them, my eyes swollen and painful.

My bedroom door opened and footsteps came forward.

Not Shay. She walked quieter.

Jake then.

Come one, come all... look at the pathetic mess that is Ava Davis.

“Baby...”

No.

No, please. Anyone else. Literally anyone else but him.

No wonder Jake was arguing with Shay about it.

I brought my legs further up into my chest, burying my face in the sleeves of my sweatshirt.

“Sweetheart,” he crooned, grabbing my arms and prying them from my face, “don't hide from me.” I kept my eyes downcast, too embarrassed by the tear-stained mess I was. “Why did you run?”

But I wasn't talking. I couldn't. Like all the other times I couldn't. Like I was mute. There was no use trying. The words would just get stuck in my throat.

Besides, what could I even say?

“You can't talk to me right now?” he asked, his hand reaching out to rub some of the tears off my cheeks, only to be replaced by new ones. I felt my head shaking slightly. “Okay. That's okay,” he said, infuriatingly patient. “I want to be here for you. Can I be here?”

No.

I needed to stay away from him. I needed distance. I needed to not rely on him. I needed to stop having flip-flopping in my belly when he talked so sweet to me. It just all needed to stop.

“I don't feel comfortable leaving you if you can't even answer me,” he said, his voice sounding very professional. “So I am going to stay right here, okay?” he said, lowering himself onto the ground beside my bed. “If you need me, I'm right here. If you don't, I'm here anyway.”

His hand fell from my face and I curled back up, hiding.

Eventually, sleep came.

I woke up later, my eyes half swollen shut, my face stinging. But not as bad as my heart. I looked down to see Chase still there like he promised, sitting on the floor, watching me like I might explode.

“Hey,” he said, softly, like a small animal that might dart.

And then I was reaching for him, grabbing him, pulling him toward me. He stood up, kicking out of his shoes and climbing into the space beside me. “Come on,” he said, putting an arm out, “come rest on your spot.”

Then the tears came again even as I moved to lay on his chest. His arms went hesitantly around me.

“I didn't know something was wrong,” he murmured, mostly to himself. “I would have helped you. You seemed fine. Happy even. I knew you were in there too long. I should have guessed something was up.”

I wanted to tell him it was okay. I wanted to ease some of the tension I heard in his voice. But I couldn't even comfort myself, how could I ever comfort him?

His arms tightened more. “I'm proud of you for using the safe word. I know that wasn't easy for you. Especially when you were so upset. I wish you would have stayed. I wish you would have talked to me about it. And not let yourself go to this place.”

I was okay with that place.

That place felt real.

No more trying to pretend I wasn't in love with him.

Or in fake love with him.

Whatever it was.

No more forcing myself to experience things that I, by nature, didn't seem inclined to do.

Just no more faking it.

I was a mess. Case closed.

The door creaked open, sending light from the living room in. Shay walked up to the bed, sitting down on the foot, reaching out to rest a hand on my leg over the covers. “Is she gonna be alright? I've seen her panic before, but this is different.”