Maybe I should have told her that I was going out with Britt. Maybe it was wrong of me not to invite her, but I thought she said she was going to be busy that night. And besides, she has other friends who she goes out with on occasion without me. Sure, I get jealous sometimes, but I figure it’s normal. But apparently she’s allowed to do that and I’m not. That’s how it is, I guess.
Unless that’s not how it is anymore. Now it feels like I’m not even friends with Kelsey. I walk across the common area, trying to avoid the eyes of my schoolmates. Through one of the windows, almost in slow motion, I see Kelsey and Britt talking and laughing. Then Kelsey shoots me another look—an appraising, cold look. Britt doesn’t notice. She has her head thrown back and is covering her mouth like she always does when she laughs hard.
Kelsey slowly turns her head away from me, but her eyes trail me a little longer. I stop in my tracks. Could they be talking about me, laughing at me? If I keep going in the same direction, I’ll have to pass them. And that doesn’t seem the wisest course of action right now. Still, I’ll have to find another way to my calculus class. Kelsey had tested out of it—she was as amazing at math as she was at making me feel like shit today. Fuck it, I’ll just pass her, and that’ll be that.
“Hi Britt,” I say, as brightly as I can manage. “Kelsey,” I add like an afterthought. Who knows how she’ll punish me now?
“Hey!” Britt turns to walk with me and quickly falls in step. “Did you get your calc homework done? See you later, Kelsey!”
“Bye Britt.” The slight emphasis Kelsey gives to Britt’s name lets me know that she is definitely considering ways to punish me. And now I’ll be punished for whatever Britt does too.
I wake up with a jolt, the darkened plane humming with its solid energy. My breath is caught in my throat. I can’t tell if I’d been dreaming, or remembering. Is Kelsey my friend, or my tormentor?
And what is King? The same?
I look around frantically, catching the eye of a passing stewardess. “Yes, Madame. Would you like something?” she asks.
“I’ll get a scotch on the rocks,” I say. “Make it a double.” I don’t know why. I’m not much of a drinker, and I never drink scotch. And I think I heard the double thing from a movie or something. But she just nods, her perfectly coiffed blonde hair not moving.
“Yes of course,” she whisks off to retrieve the drink, and I realize I’m clutching the arms of my chair. I’m totally disoriented. It seems there’s nobody seated next to me to fight for the space, because it’s hard for me to even let it go. I thought it was full, so someone must not have shown up for their flight? But the attendant soon is at my side. She puts the tray table down on the seat next to me with a practiced motion, and hands me the glass. I fumble through my purse and she shakes her head no, meaning that I don’t need to pay. Soon I’m bringing the burning liquid to my lips, the fumes from the drink already searing my nostrils.
Just like it permeates my nose, the alcohol begins to pervade regions of my brain, and I let go of the armrest, and let my head hit the back of the chair again.
I guess I am just a glutton for punishment. I begin to think of King’s hands, how they could creep over me, draw me in, effortlessly, gracefully, like a cat with a mouse. Watching the mouse try to get away is always the greatest thrill, to let it almost out of reach and then to pull it back in and claim it.
That’s how I feel when he touches me, like he’s completely in control, every nerve of my body on fire, needing him as he toys with my affections, my emotions. My body. Teasing each part of me, making me wonder if he would gratify me, or bite me, his lips so close to my skin that the energy field was jumping between us, until they closed on my nipple, and I arched my back pushing myself as near to him as I could. His teeth glancing against the hard nub as his hand reached around and squeezed, hard.
My breath catches in my throat, this time from excitement, happy that he’s claiming me, feeling everything he did to my nipple like a ghost hand on my clit, bringing me close to orgasm without even being touched once. I imagine myself falling over the edge as his knee pushes between my legs, his cock sliding up my thigh.
Then his hand opens his fly, pulling it out, his cock bouncing in eager anticipation, and feeling my skirt being yanked down as he slides between my legs.
But I have to stop feeling this way. This is fantasy, that’s all.
I left Paris. Left King. And left Kelsey, even if she did leave me first. The schoolyard may have been the first place I had given up my strength and my power, and then with King. I’ll be damned if I will ever do it again. I’ll get over this situation on my own.
Maybe I’ll get a dog.
I force my mind to stop thinking about King and Kelsey and start thinking about a dog. Maybe a big dog. Though that wouldn’t fly too well in Manhattan. It’s time to leave my parents and get a place on my own, though. If I move to Inwood or something, maybe I could live by a park and still be on the subway line to get downtown. I muse about a Bernese Mountain dog. Their friendly but intimidating size is just the perfect animal to snuggle up to and to ward off would-be attackers with. I wonder how much they cost?
It’s nice to know that I have a bit of money coming to me, but I have no idea how much it is. I hope I haven’t blown through it and more already.
It’s difficult to figure how much it
is. Kelsey had some vague side business that she never really told her parents about—something online that made her some real cash, but that she didn’t like to talk about. I always encouraged her in it but her parents were not impressed, preferring to get her to concentrate on her studies.
She must have, in some rare moment, decided that I deserved some of her money, and I would be going to the lawyer to see just how much will be left, if anything, after what I’ve spent on this trip. It probably won’t be much, but it might be just enough to visit a dog breeder and get a puppy. A big clumsy puppy with giant paws, and a perma-grin. One that would never be stolen away from him. A smile and an open doggy mind, just looking for the next treat and the next walk.
I sink deeper into my chair and sip my drink, finally getting out the headphones and flicking on some movie. I’ll be home soon, and that’s what matters.
And then there he is. King. Of course, he pulled me into first class. That crazy dream must have messed me up hard.
Slipping into the seat beside me, veering his perfect hips under the tray table. Smiling at me. And God help me, I snuggle against him. I’d call myself weak, but the truth is he’s just too strong. Overpowering. I have no choice.
The lawyer ruffles his papers.
“Well as you may know, you’ve been invited here today for the reading of the will,” he says, looking at each of the four of us pointedly. “Mrs. and Mrs. Rawlings, as Kelsey’s parents, Ryan as Kelsey’s brother, and you, Jordan, you are here because you have also been specifically mentioned by name in the document.” He clears his throat.
I wonder how many times has he had to deliver bad news, unexpected news. Is there part of him that enjoys seeing the surprise on people’s faces, the shock when he delivers the final blow? I try to sneak a peek at Kelsey’s family. They’ve never been that fond of me, and I don’t really know why.