31 Plan

Amanda

I sat across the table from Porter, in the very place they had confined me. I should be upset and conflicted about being back, instead I was just excited. Excited and uneasy. A weird combination, but I was tired of letting Steven rule my life from the past. I finished my glass of wine and he poured me another.

If I drank too much, he’d just have to give me a ride home. Or, not, if he didn’t want to. Porter had been holding back since I had tentatively decided to try, and I was tired of all the restraint. I didn’t feel entirely secure with him, but I was starting to think I never would, and it wasn’t Porter’s fault. I just had to numb myself enough to take the next step, and then in would get easier.

After supper we cleared the table, and ended up on the couch I had slept on, watching a movie while I nursed my wine. I cuddled up next to Porter and he seemed happy with the contact. I was hoping he would make a move, and I wondered where all his restraint came from. I had said I wanted to take it slow, but surely the man had to snap at some point.

We sat there the whole movie, and it was nice, although his proximity was driving me crazy. We hadn’t been alone together somewhere private since I’d decided to give him a chance and it felt so long. I wanted to feel him again, and apparently I was going to have to make the first move. I crawled up onto his lap and straddled him and kissed him before he had time to react, other than to kiss me back, which he did, with dedication that ran down through me like lightning. He was so hot in every way. His hands rested on my hips, as I ground into him and let my hands wander. I could feel the evidence that he was as excited as I was resting between my legs, but after a few minutes of kissing with little touching on his part, he pulled himself back.

“I should take you home.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You don’t need to do that.”

“You’re not driving. You’ve got most of a bottle of wine in you.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He obviously wanted me, so what was his problem this time? His breathing was harsh and ragged, and the aforementioned evidence had shown no sign of softening. “Which is why you should probably go home.”

“I don’t want to go home.”

“Amanda, I can’t take this all night.”

“Then take me all night instead.”

His eyes widened and he just stared at me like a deer in the headlights. “No.”

Hurt and anger flared in my chest and I scrambled off of him and glared at him from the far side of the couch. “Fine. If you don’t want me here, that’s fine. I’ll go home. I’m trying, okay? But if that’s not good enough for you, then—”

“You know I want you here, but you’re half drunk and—”

“So was I the first—”

“And it was a mistake then, too.”

“A mistake?” So we were back to this? I couldn’t even be angry anymore, and that left only something much more unpleasant.

“We’ve been through this before. You’re intoxicated and I want you fully aware.”

I scoffed at him. “You’re being so demanding. And not in a good way. In a very Steven-esque way.”

“Steven-esque? Don’t compare me to that piece of shit.”

His brow was furrowed, which didn’t make me feel better about the situation. “I’ll compare you to whoever I want.”

“I’m not going to treat you like he did.”

I shrugged and tried not to pout. “You’re so controlling and you won’t give me what I want.”

“Not tonight, no. We decided to go slow, and I’m not going along with some drunken change of mind.” He was so irritatingly stubborn.

“I know what I want. But fine. If you don’t want me here then just take me home.”

“You know I don’t want you to leave.”

“Mixed signals much?”

“Says the queen of mixed signals.”

I narrowed my eyes at him and he glared straight back. He looked annoyingly hot when he glowered.

“Stay here and if you still want me when you’re sober in the morning I’ll make love to you all day.”

“Make love.” I rolled my eyes.

“Whatever you’d prefer to call it. It’s all the same to me.”

I really should go home, but deep down I didn’t want to go anywhere. I wanted to stay with Porter, because I wanted him. Stupid jerk. Did I even really have a good choice anymore? I craved him when I wasn’t with him, and I didn’t think that was going to change.

Of course there was rejection.

“I don’t want to reject you.”

“Wait, what?”

I sighed and looked away from him. “I’m not going to do it. I don’t want that to be true, but it is true. I don’t want to do it.”

He exhaled. “We should talk about this in the morning, too.”

I scowled at him and got to my feet and looked down at him. “Why? Why can’t we talk now? I don’t want to wait until the morning, because it’s harder then, Porter. I don’t do feelings. I ignore them, and I numb them, and you’re going to have to get used to that if you want to have me in your life.”

“You know I want you in my life.”

I frowned down at him. “Then you’re just going to be happy with whatever I’m willing to give you, when I want to give it.”

He opened his mouth like he would argue with me, but he closed it again.

“I have...liked...spending time with you. And I do really, really, like your body. And what you did with it. And you’re okay I guess. And I maybe half—no, quarter—trust you. And I can’t promise you’re getting more than that, ever. And you’re going to have to accept that, too. Can you live with that or are you going to keep pushing me, because I will do that rejection thing no matter how much I don’t want to and leave if you can’t.” I crossed my arms for emphasis and glared again.

“I wasn’t lying that I’ll take what I can get from you.”

“Yeah, and then you immediately started pushing for more.”

“I’m sorry. I tried not to.”

“Alright. I have a great plan. We’ll be mates—like friends Australia style—with benefits for now as a trial run. I can give you that. And you can care as long as you don’t get all overbearing.”

“Maybe. If you still want that in the morning.”

“I will. And don’t break the rules this time.”

“Fine, I’ll think about it. But if we move forward, I want something, too. You don’t ghost me. If you decide you don’t want me for some reason, you don’t just disappear, you tell me what you’re thinking in here.” He tapped my forehead with his pointer finger.

“Fine.”

“And we’re still going to talk about this in the morning,” he said, the stubborn beast.

I rolled my eyes. “I barely have a buzz right now.”

“You smell like a distillery.”

“Your nose is oversensitive.”

“It’s not my nose, it overwhelms your scent and I like how you smell.”

“Oh yeah? What do I smell like?”

“Deliciously human.”

“You sound like you’re going to eat me.”

“Maybe tomorrow, if you don’t wake up regretting your ‘great plan’.”

I accidentally let a smile escape from under my stern expression.

“Come here, you,” he said, grabbing my hand and pulling me forward and twisting me around to sit beside him. I didn’t try to stop him, because I didn’t want to. I leaned against his hard chest, and stared at the television.