In Pursuit (18 page)

Then I yelp, mostly out of fear. “Stop, Harris, stop!” 

His movements slow like he’s in a trance and he removes his lips from my neck.

“Please,” I sob. “Let go of my hands.”

This time he hears me, and he falls back on his knees.

I scramble backwards then jump off the lounge chair. My chest is heaving with the effort of breathing. Harris and I stare at each other.

“Edith, I –“

“No,” I say emphatically. Whatever he has to say, I don’t want to hear it. I need to get out of here
now.

“I am leaving, and you are staying. Don’t...” I gulp another breath. “...move.”

Harris is panting, too, his hands resting on his thighs as he stares at me, an array of emotions flicker across his face: confusion, fear, surprise and anger. His eyes darken, and now he appears pissed off.

What do you expect? You were about to maybe have sex and you just end it like that?
I don’t want to stick around to find out what he has to say.

I back away two steps, then turn and,
fucking pathetic
, run inside. I scoop my purse off the piano bench and dash into foyer.

“Come on, come on,” I mutter as I press the elevator call button. Thankfully, it whisks open and I escape inside, not bothering to look behind me and see if Harris is following. I push my back into the wall and take deep breaths.

One-one thousand, two-one thousand, three-one thousand   

I arrive at the lobby, and walk as calmly as I can to the exit. The counting helps a bit, but doesn’t take away Jared’s voice in my head.

“You worthless cock tease. You will never do better than me!”
He raged when I broke our relationship apart.

It’s not until I’m outside and a cool breeze flutters through my dress that I realize I’m less one pair of panties.
Fuck.
Clutching my purse to my chest like a protective shield, I walk aimlessly down the street. Home is less than fifteen minutes away by foot, but the thought of running into Claire and having to explain why I can’t contain these shakes makes me want to empty the contents of my stomach on the sidewalk.

I can’t face her. Or him. Or anyone.

I end up walking along Michigan Avenue towards Lake Michigan. It’s probably not the safest idea to wander here alone at night, but I don’t know where else to go, so I unbuckle my shoes and walk out onto the sand of Oak Street beach. My wobbly legs won’t take me much further and I drop into a crossed leg position sending sand up in short bursts around me when my weight redistributes it.

Soft winds off the lake cool me, making me shiver. Sitting by the water in a short dress without panties probably could have been planned better. I’m still like a derailed train from my flashback to Jared, out of alignment. And then I think of Harris looking at me bitterly. I’m sure he wasn’t expecting that reaction from me, especially after I practically begged him for
more.

Talk about mixed signals. Was I ready to have sex with Harris? My body craves it, but my emotional status is still unstable. Now I’ve more than likely lost the chance to see how this relationship could develop. Tears trickle down my cheeks.

A buzzing in my purse makes me realize that my phone has been demanding my attention for the past few minutes. I’m not sure how long. Fifteen missed calls from Harris, two from Claire and a bevy of text messages. He’s calling right now.

“Hello,” I whisper into the phone.

“Where are you? Please, I won’t... Just, please, tell me where you are so I can come pick you up.” He sounds frantic. In the background a horn angrily blasts and he yells, “Shut the fuck up!”

“I didn’t say anything,” I stammer.

“No, the asshole behind me. Where are you, Edith? I’ll come get you.”
            “Oak Street beach.”

“Fuck!” he roars, causing me to start. “Do you have any idea how dangerous it is out there? Do you see anyone around you?”

“No. I’m all by myself,” I whisper.

“Stay put. I’ll be there in two minutes.”

The phone clicks and he’s gone. I cover my wet face with my hands and close my eyes to try and block out the whirlwind of emotions swirling around me like a violent tornado.
I want to go home.
Not just the home a few blocks away, but the safety of my room in Arlington. 

I hear the pounding of sand, but I keep my eyes closed. Rough hands yank me into his arms, and he presses his face into the crook of my neck. Put side by side, his hands span the width of my back and curl around my sides. He rocks us back and forth.

“You’re safe, you’re safe,” he whispers over and over. It’s unclear if he is talking to me or to himself. We sit like that for a while, I don’t know how long, until he finally loosens his hold, and presses his forehead into mine gently.

“I’m sorry I ran,” I say softly.

“Of course you did, I attacked you like an animal. I was out of line.” We continue breathing in each others' air as the breeze whispers around us. He bunches me to him tightly, my safe haven.

“You’re not angry?” I ask timidly.

His eyes are closed when he responds, “Hell yes, I’m angry.”

I inhale deeply, waiting for what’s next.

“Not at you, Edith, only at me.”

A slow exhale lets out the breath I’m holding and I sag down in relief.

“That was unforgivable of me, treating someone so inexperienced that way.”

“Inexperienced?” I study his furrowed brow, his eyes still closed.

“You’re a virgin,” he says the word with awe, like I’m an undiscovered species.

I shrug out of his embrace, jumping up to my feet. “Virgin!” I squawk. “I’m not!”

Okay, having sex with two people doesn’t make me an all knowing sex goddess, but it’s been a few years since I lost that innocence.

He climbs to his feet too, putting his hands on my shoulders in an effort to soothe me. “Claire told me. I called her to see if she had heard from you and she – she hypothesized that you got upset because you’ve never...”

“
No,
I’m not a virgin.
This shouldn’t be too hard to figure out.” I bend down and lift my shoes and begin trekking back to the sidewalk.
Screw Claire’s games.

Harris’ hand latches on to my elbow and he yanks me back to him. “Did someone hurt you?” he spits angrily.

“
No.
” I repeat, sounding like a skipping CD. “My ex-boyfriend just,” I clear my throat and break eye contact, squeezing my eyes shut. “He held me down once when he was trying to...” The rest of the words won’t materialize. “I guess I had a flashback when you and I were together, and I got spooked. Anyway, I broke up with Jared right after it happened.”

Harris instantly drops my arms and steps back. “Edith, I...”

“Can you please take me home?” I ask in a small voice with my sight still blocked.

Harris swoops down and picks me up into his arms. “Let me carry you.” He’s pleading with me and I don’t have the energy to argue.

“You’re freezing,” he says, disapprovingly. Goosebumps have sprung up along arms and legs, giving my secret away.

My eyes flutter open and I stare up at him. His gaze is firmly set ahead, determined on our destination.

His car is parked at an ugly angle, waiting for us. He sets me carefully in the soft seat, taking care to buckle my seat belt. Before he closes the car door, the tips of his fingers touch my cheek. Then he closes the door and hurries to the other side.

            The ride home is short and quiet.

When he navigates the car into the drive, I notice he doesn’t put it into park. He’s not coming upstairs, I note with disappointment.

I do my best to unfasten my belt quickly, but of course my nervy fingers won’t work like I want them to. He ends up having to release me from the seat, crossing over the center console to unfasten the belt. As I am scrambling to escape, his hand shoots out and grabs my wrist. He immediately thinks better of it and drops my hand.

Our eyes meet over the console, my free hand resting on the door handle, ready to make my escape. Then he shocks the hell out of me, leaning close and pressing a kiss so tender it makes my heart ache, to my cheek.

“I’m not giving up this easily, exquisite Edith.”

I say the only thing that comes to mind, though my delivery is breathless. “Good.”

Finally, I figure out how to open the door and race inside.

“Little mouse?” Claire calls as soon as I open the door.

“Hey,” I say halfheartedly, my voice nearly cracking with emotion.

“Come to me.”

She’s on the couch, underneath the ivory throw. Her forever long blonde hair hangs in a high ponytail that sways when she turns her head to look at me.

“Tell me what happened,” she says as I plop down on the couch next her.

Belatedly, I realize I still don’t have my thong. Most of the sand came off in my travels back home, but there are still some grains stuck in my unmentionables.

Gross.

She tucks me underneath the blanket in an oddly maternal gesture.

“Claire, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my, I guess it was a date, with Harris.”

Claire clucks and gives me a sickly sweet smile. This is not the normal carefree grin, this one looks too tight across her cheeks, wrinkles displaying at the corner of her eyes. “Don’t fret.”

“To be honest, I was just so surprised by his offer. But it doesn’t really matter. I don’t think there will be any more dates,” I mutter unhappily.

The look on Claire’s face shifts and a genuine smile appears.
She is happy it’s not going to work out.
But then I remember the screaming match between the siblings, the night we all went to the club. Maybe she does want me all to herself. Or the opposite, she doesn’t want to share her brother.

“Tell me what happened,” she coaxes.

I explain how the night started well, the delicious dinner. She’s tense while I detail the good parts, then I dig into my lower lip with my teeth. “Then, um, something happened to remind me of my ex.”

“From DC?”

“Yeah. We broke up about six months ago because,” I halt, then steel myself to finish the story. “Basically we were together and things were never that fantastic. It was always a filler relationship for me, nothing special.” In my head I feel it all over again, his whiskey-tinged breath making hot stains along my neck. “It was all fine, but one night Jared forgot what ‘no’ means and -”

“He raped you?” she shrieks.

“No, no. Thankfully, it didn’t get to that. But he held me down, and he wouldn’t listen when I asked him to stop. He was really wasted and trying to force me, but because he was so messed up, I was able to escape. Being overpowered by a guy terrifies me now, apparently.” I put my hands into my face and let out a low groan.

Like her brother did earlier, Claire wraps me in a protective embrace. “That sounds horrible.”

“It – it really was.”

Then she turns the conversation and it makes my gut pinch painfully. “Well, at least you were able to figure this out early on. Harris just isn’t the right guy for you. There will be another one, little mouse.”

“Jared just held me down,” I repeat forlornly. “And not even for that long. I can’t believe it left such an impression.”

“You should probably be with a guy who is timid, more your speed, than Harris. My brother should be the advertisement for possessive, controlling men. Way out of your league.”

The words trigger anger inside of me. That’s what I thought at first, too, but that’s not true. A relationship has nothing to do with leagues; partners come together because they find a common bond. Harris and I connect on a deeper level than social circles and designer threads.

But I keep my face expressionless when I respond to Claire. Let her think she influences my decisions.

“You might be right.”

The wall clock chimes the hour.

“Thanks for listening, Claire.”

Her gray eyes are light and all the tension on her face from when I arrived is gone. She looks positively peachy.
Harris would laugh at that alliteration
, I think glumly, but keep my features impassive. Living with a father who wanted little to do with my emotions trained me to keep my feelings to myself whenever necessary.

Later, when I’ve washed the makeup off and brushed out the waves in my light brown hair, I’m laying in bed staring at the alarm clock when it hits me.

Why would Claire tell Harris that I’m a virgin?

T
he weekend rolls by uneventfully, Friday’s date gone, but not forgotten. Claire and Harris are out of town visiting family or something. As much as I want to see Harris, the time apart gives me the chance to recuperate.

Twice during the weekend, I picked up the phone to call my dad. In the two weeks that I’ve lived in Chicago we haven’t been in touch except for a text message letting him know I got settled in okay. We may not be the closest of fathers and daughters, but just hearing his voice could reassure me that I’ve done the right thing by moving here. Maybe.

Today, I’m at an art studio space and in the thick of a necessary evil for an interior design blogger – a DIY (Do It Yourself) project. I loathe sewing, stapling and hammering, but my readers love simple fixes for their home decorating. Those readers keep my blog going, so here I am, painting a canvas royal blue. My cell phone cries out for my attention. I swipe it and press talk blindly.