Boy in a Band (A Morgan Mallory story) (24 page)

             
“Mathew, leave Gayle out of this, now and forever. What she did last night was for me, not for you.”

             
He gave me a questioning look.

             
“She knew I wanted you, so she agreed to your suggestion. Shocked the shit out of me, I might add. If you don’t believe me, ask her. I feel guilty she went along with it. So don’t go getting some big guy ego that you had two girls at the same time. So I’m perfectly clear, only one of them actually wanted you.”

             
He listened without interrupting me. I knew I was stretching it a bit, but Gayle wouldn’t mind. I paused, taking my bra off as I wiggled a little lower so I was more on his crotch. He sucked in his breath and I took his hands, putting them on my breasts. I think he knew better than to talk.

“Mathew
, you have made me crazy with wanting you. Tell me you didn’t know that?”

             
He reached for me, trying to pull me to him with a look of denial.

             
“Fuck me, Morgan,” he said in a hoarse whisper.

             
His words made my crotch tingle and ache.

             
“No, tell me otherwise, tell me you had no clue,” I said, resisting.

             
He grinned his lazy sexy grin and I wondered if he really could make me orgasm just by kissing me.

             
“Maybe a little,” he said holding up his fingers with a small gap between them.

I poked him hard in the chest
and he grunted, caught off guard. I could tell he wasn’t sure where to go from here.
Where did we go from here?
There hadn’t been talk of a relationship because I was just happy in the moment, and he didn’t bring it up.

“This doesn’t change a thing ‘friend’
,” I said, finally bending down to kiss him.

I kissed his lips with little butterfly kisses. I teased around his lips with my tongue,
then kissed across his face then bit and kissed his ear gently. I put my hand over his heart and felt it beating rapidly.

“Do you ever feel a connection
between us?” I asked boldly.

“Of course I do
,” he said, running his hands down my body.

I’d asked the wrong question
. I meant emotional and he took it as physical. I knew we had that. He slowly took the rest of my clothes off, laying me back on the bed. He stood and took his clothes off as I watched. Seeing him naked made my loins ache and I squeezed my legs together in anticipation as he climbed on the bed next to me.

              “I don’t have much experience in this area,” I said suddenly feeling shy.

             
“It doesn’t matter. It’s new between the two of us, we’ll learn.”

             
He taught me things I didn’t know. He made me feel things I had only heard of and doubted to be true. He was patient, teaching me as we went along. He never made me feel like a novice. I had no doubt he was trying to make up for some of his past behavior. Between our lovemaking, we talked. The bed was like an island with just the two of us, no other influences. I didn’t want to leave it.

“Morgan,” I heard him whisper, pulling me up from sleep.

I felt him shaking me
gently. I tried to grasp where I was. I remembered when I opened my eyes and saw his face. I rolled my body into his; hugging into his side and he wrapped his arm around me. It felt so cozy; sometime in the night we’d gotten in the covers.

“U
m,” I sighed.

He stroked my
hair lightly as he held me. I could tell by the opening in the curtain that it was starting to get light.

“Wh
at time is it?” I asked softly.

             
“Early,” he said. “We should get back to our rooms before everyone gets up. I don’t want to piss any of them off again.”

             
I squished into him a little harder.

             
“Can we do it one more time?” I asked sleepily.

“Man
, get you started, kid,” he chuckled, rolling onto me.

Later, w
hen I crawled in the guest bed alone, the smell of him lingered on me. I liked it. My crotch ached from all our lovemaking, but in a wonderful way. I would be foolish to expect this would push us into anything more than what we were, but I hoped. I finally fell into a deep sleep. I slept late. Everyone was up when I walked into the kitchen in my sweatpants and T-shirt. Mathew smiled at me.

“Any chance I can get some coffee?” I asked no one in particular
as I pulled my hair back, figuring it must look wild.

             
“None made,” he said, getting up from the counter. “Your hair looks fine.”

He pulled the pot out
and filled it part way with water. I watched him as he moved, watched his hands in particular.
The magic they could do.
He turned the machine on.

"I can’t believe you drink the stuff.”

             
“I started about thirteen. My mom called it cowboy coffee, lots of sugar and milk, made me feel grown up. Less sugar and milk now,” I said.

             
He laughed.

“Would think cowboy coffee was the opposite, black and full of grounds.”

“I don’t know, maybe she never had cowboy coffee, just liked the expression.”

When the coffee had brewed
, I poured myself a cup. I sat listening to the TV as I drank it. I couldn’t get last night out of my head. I wanted to ask
what now
, but stuffed it down instead. I knew it would just be what it was, he was either going to change things or not, and I guessed not, especially now that we were moving.

             
“Mathew, we’ve got to finish getting the house cleaned up before they get back,” I said, referring to our parents.

             
“I know,” he said.

             
There was to be no help from Sam, Sara, or Pat, which is what scored us their silence. Mathew and I had agreed to clean up the whole house.

“One more cup of coffee first
,” I said.

Chapter 2
8

Christmas
was approaching and the weather had gotten cooler. My dad was still commuting and trying desperately to find a job in San Jose so we didn’t have to move. The house still wasn’t sold, so they lowered the price. Pat and I prayed he would find something else before it did sell.

It was my turn to lean on Mathew, voicing my discomfort and resentment
. Since Thanksgiving we had not had sex. I had not asked for any type of commitment or promise after our nights together. If I left the emotional part out, it seemed to work. One big reason was we hadn’t had any good opportunities. The physical exchanges in his room hadn’t stopped however. When I learned through Keri that he was on the trail of another girl, I decided to give up. The potential move, and his inability to see me as anything but comfortable, was too heavy a burden right now.

“We’re friends
, back to friends,” I answered Gayle when she asked me what was going on.

“After all the shit that’s gone down, you’re friends
? Friends don’t behave that way. You don’t fuck your friends, Morgan, excuse my French. You don’t expect your ‘friend's’ best friend to join in. You’re not friends,” she said, annoyed.

I felt my face
get hot and then a tightening in my throat, as the tears burned at the back of my eyes.

             
“What are we then?” I lashed out as I started to cry.

             
She gave me the
oh, Morgan
look.

             
“I don’t know what you are. How can I define it?” she said calmly. “You start, you stop. You love, he doesn’t; you hate, he wants; you give in to him. Morgan, it’s crazy.”

             
This wasn’t anything we hadn’t talked about or that I didn’t know. I’d had my self-loathing regarding my feelings.

             
“So fucking what? So crazy is what I get with him,” I said raising my voice, the tears running down my face. “It’s all too much, besides I already told you I’m giving up. Drop it already.”

             
I reached for a Kleenex beside her bed.

             
“Giving up? You’ll give him up till he wants you again.”

             
“Watch me, Gayle,” I said more determined than I felt, although I couldn’t seem to stop the tears.

             
“Besides, if we move, which looks highly likely, I have to give it up,” I sucked in a big breath, trying to calm myself.

             
“Don’t,” she said, coming to me.

“I know you hate it when girls cry
,” I choked out a laugh, thinking of him.

I broke
down again when she hugged me.

In March, our house sold, and I started dating Ben. Ironically, he was a football player Mathew had introduced me to at a party. He was two years older than me, tall, about six feet two, wavy brown hair with grey eyes. He said all the right things to my parents and me. They liked him. Gayle was over the top about Ben; he was perfect for me, the good guy, finally. I couldn’t help but wonder whether part of her enthusiasm was the distance he kept me from Mathew.

Mathew was involve
d heavily in the band, the parties, the girls, and Ben didn’t like him much. Kingdom Come was starting to play at local events, and Ben and I went with friends several times to watch the band play. The fact that Mathew and I were friends seemed to bother Ben. If Mathew knew I was there, he would seek me out, almost like he was trying to make Ben uncomfortable. We were at a party where Kingdom Come was playing. One where I hadn’t known they would be there, and Mathew approached us on a break. It was loud, the crowd all talking and laughing.

             
“Hey, Big Ben,” he slapped Ben on the back. “How’s it going, dude?”

             
“Good, Matt,” he answered loudly, obviously not happy to see him.

             
“Hey, kid,” Mathew, shouted, holding his arms open, sporting his lazy sexy grin.

             
“Hey,” I said, hugging him quickly.

             
Ben shot me a warning glance. Mathew caught it and laughed.

“Chill
, dude. Morgan, and I have been friends a long time, you know that.”

             
The way he said
friends
left the term sort of open and I knew he’d done it intentionally. People pushed around us making their way in the crowd.

“He treating you rig
ht, Morgan?” Mathew asked, knowing he was getting to Ben.

I could feel the
tension rising, feel the hairs rise on my arms. I didn’t understand Mathew’s motivation, wondered why he cared that I was with Ben now.

             
“Yeah, Mathew, he treats me right.”

             
Mathew glanced from me back to Ben and smiled.

             
“Good. Good,” he said jollily, slapping Ben on the back again. “If he doesn’t, you let me know.”

             
I saw Ben clench his jaw and I thought he might hit him. Mathew was strong, but Ben had a lot of height on him.

“Gotta run
,” he said and was gone.

He
disappeared easily into the crowd.

             
“What an asshole he is,” Ben said.

              The exchange had made me tense; my stomach was in a knot. The big-brother attitude from Mathew didn’t sit well with me either.

             
My time with Ben did keep me from being around Mathew; he did everything in his power to make sure of it. Ben was possessive, and I was in love with the fact that someone acknowledged wanting me. A girlfriend, open and claimed, for the first time. As Ben and I grew closer, so did our moving date. I could not believe I’d finally found a boyfriend, and now I had to go.

“Ben
, I can’t stand this,” I cried to him.

              “I know, baby. We’ll make it work,” he said. “You’ll be back in less than a month. I’ll wait.”

             
“What then? I leave again, and you’re here and I’m way the hell down there.”

             
“We can write, call, let’s take it a step at a time,” he said, trying to soothe me.

             
I didn’t feel reassured. Ben was good-looking and a looker. I had caught him on more than one occasion, checking out girls while I was right next to him. “Rubber Necker” Mathew called him. I thought about numerous words I could call Mathew, womanizer, cheater, my one time fuck buddy, my friend, then decided no. None of it mattered.

             
My parents had agreed to send me back to San Jose for a couple weeks once school was out, in an attempt to calm my distress. The scene in our driveway the day we left was so sad. All the neighborhood kids were there, most crying. I was crying, my heart aching, feeling like it was being torn from my chest. Ben held me close. Gayle was beside herself like I had never seen her. We’d gone to the O’Conner’s the night before for goodbyes. Mathew had held me tight, tenderly, lovingly rocked me.

             
“I’ll really miss you, Morgan,” he whispered.

             
His touch brought back thoughts of him and me, and I pulled away somewhat disconcerted by them.

             
“Play something for me,” I asked, forcing down the tears. “Nothing that will make me cry, okay?”

             
“You got it.”

I would miss him terribly
. As much as he had put me through, we had a unique friendship. I wasn’t closer to anyone other than Gayle, not even Ben. I’d shared so much with him in this very room.

It was Cinco De Mayo when we arrived in San Diego. The drive was hateful, and Pat and I had cried for different reasons the whole way. My world had indeed shattered. I understood Mathew’s
mad
. “Mad as hell” he'd said. It summed it up perfectly.
How could my parents do this to us?
I started a new school, which ended a month later with not one new friend. The cliques were established; I was the new girl.

             
The girls didn’t want to know me, and the boys, if they did, were afraid of the girls. Knowing I was going back to San Jose for a few weeks was the only thing keeping me sane. Ben and I talked on the phone. He couldn’t wait to see me. I couldn’t wait to see him. Mathew even called a couple of times to see how I was doing. My parents arranged for me to spend a week at Gayle’s; the second week at Ann and Brad’s. Ben picked me up at the airport. I’d given up any cigarette smoking.

“Hey
, babe,” he said, kissing me at the gate, bringing me flowers.

             
“Ben, this is so nice,” I said, feeling loved. “You can’t even know how happy I am to be here.”

             
“Pretty good guess,” he said, kissing me again. “I’m proud of you for giving up the cigs, they were nasty.”

             
The first week flew by. Ben and I spent most of our time at the beach, hanging out. Gayle joined us now and then for a movie or dinner. He packed in activities, and it seemed I couldn’t get him alone for more than a kiss, which perplexed me.

             
“Gayle, he seems different,” I said as we sat in her yard.

             
“No he doesn’t,” she said.

             
“Maybe I’m just feeling insecure. I have two weeks, and then I leave again. He’s not going to wait for a girl who lives seven hundred miles away.”

             
“Morgan, just have fun. Don’t get yourself down about leaving, focus on being here. I’ve been so glad to hear
happy
in your voice.”

             
“I know,” I said.

             
Gayle and I had talked on the phone a lot—my mom hid the bills from my dad. It was expensive, long-distance calls, but she knew I needed a friend.

“Ok
ay, Mathew’s tomorrow. Will you be glad to see him?” Gayle asked.

             
“I guess. I didn’t leave with us in the best place,” I said. “Ben and all.”

             
“What fucking ever,” she said. “Ben doesn’t know anything happened with you and Mathew does he?”

             
“No,” I shouted. “He would kill me, even if it was before him. He’s not a real Mathew fan, as you know. Thinks he’s too cocky. I think there is a bit of jealousy on Ben’s part because the girls rubber neck Mathew.”

             
Gayle laughed, and laughed, and I joined in.

              Ben dropped me off after our date the following day. He’d expressed his annoyance that it was Mathew’s house. I’d pointed out that the O’Conner’s were my parents friends and had willingly offered me a place to stay, his mother certainly hadn’t. It felt strange to ring the doorbell.

             
“Hey, Ann,” I said when she opened the door.

             
“Morgan,” she said, stepping out and hugging me tightly. “Ben, good to see you again.”

“You too Mrs.-“

Ann frowned at him.

“Ann,” she corrected
motioning us inside.

             
“I’ll get her stuff,” Ben said, heading back out to his car.

             
Ann squeezed me again.

             
“It’s so good to see you,” she said, leading me toward the family room and sitting down in a chair. “I miss your mom and you so much. You can’t imagine.”

             
I could imagine, mom and I had cried together several times about being so far away.

             
“She misses you too. She hasn’t made any friends yet. Me either.”

             
Her face softened and she smiled at me.

             
“You both will, be patient, give it time.”

             
I heard the front door open again.

“Morgan
, where should I put your suitcase?” Ben called.

             
I jumped up and went back to the entry, then led him to the guest room.

             
“Right here,” I said, turning on the light as he set my things down.

             
“Nice place,” he said, looking around the bedroom and then the living room.

             
“Nice? It’s more than nice,” I said.

             
This house, so familiar and comfortable to me; “comfortable” I heard Mathew say, he’d called me comfortable once. I looked down the hall towards his room.