All In: Iggy's Story, page 10
“But that’s all gone, I see.”
“The stammering or the giggles?” she quips with a cheeky smile.
“Both.”
“I wish. You know how much I’ve spent on speech therapy? A lot! When I get really nervous it still comes out.”
“Guess you can’t be completely perfect,” I say, finishing off my glass of wine.
We’re at ease with one another as we chat. Our knees are touching, our bodies relaxed against the back of the sofa. Every now and again she grazes my shoulder or arm as she speaks. I don’t know if she’s realizes it, but I can’t help but notice because I crave her touch. I want more.
“I can talk to you all night,” I confess. “I don’t remember the last time I felt this relaxed.”
“I’m going to regret this tomorrow morning.” She yawns. “I think I’ll call it a night.”
I smile at her, and she smiles back. We’re close, just a few inches apart. I want to kiss her. I want to take her by the waist and pull her to me and just kiss her over and over and over again. I want to know if she tastes like bubblegum and Diet Coke, like she did back then. I think she knows what’s on my mind because her cheeks turn a bit red and her smile is lazy.
How drunk is she, I wonder?
“This feels odd, doesn’t it?”
“Odd or familiar?”
“Both. I’m not used to sitting on a couch with you without touching you.”
Jesus. She’s going to kill me. “I’m not opposed to touching, babe.”
I’m pretty sure she’s closer to me than she was a moment ago. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”
I cup her face with my right hand. She’s soft and warm and so fucking enticing. She closes her eyes and leans into my palm. “You feel good, Iggy,” she whispers.
I don’t speak. I’m afraid if one word is spoken, the mood will be broken.
She leans forward, lifting her ass from the sofa just enough so that she can reach my lips. Then her soft lips are on mine for the briefest of seconds, but it’s everything. It’s our past, our future, everything we’ve missed out on, everything that's still left. I don’t move.
It’s not a passionate kiss. It’s soft and sweet and so fucking special I feel as if I’m coming out of my skin.
She sits back down and licks her lips, and I groan.
“It would be so much easier if I could hate you.”
“But you don’t.”
Her smile answers the question for her. “Good night, Iggy.”
“Good night, Abby.”
A moment later she stands and leaves. I stare at the two wine stained glasses for a few minutes until my eyelids are heavy and I fall asleep.
At least I know she doesn’t hate me.
It’s a start.
10
Nineteen Years Ago
ABBY
“Abby? Abby, what’s wrong?” Iggy’s by the door of the drugstore putting away the shopping baskets. He grabs me as I run right past him.
“I...I...” I shove my face into his chest and let out a sob. “My parents are getting a divorce.”
“Shit,” he mutters, as he wraps his arms around me. He knows about my parents’ arguments because I usually go to him when it gets ugly. After Claire got married and left the house, the arguments have seemed to happen more and more often. The only thing that feels right for me lately is being with Iggy. Now that we’re more than friends, now that we’ve kissed, that’s all we do. Kiss at the movies, kiss on the way to school, kiss by the lockers… I know he wants to do more than kiss, and I do too. But every time I broach the subject he says we’re not ready, and, by “we,” he means me. He thinks I’m too young, and my virginity is too important to just give to anyone. As if Iggy were just anyone! I feel more comfortable with Iggy than I do with anyone, which is why I came straight over here when I found out about my parents.
“My dad’s moving out this weekend,” I sob.
“Stay here for a moment.” He jogs over to the owner, Mr. Riley, and whispers something. A moment later he comes back. “Come on, babe. Let’s get outta here.” He grabs my hand and leads me towards the door.
“What about work?” I sniffle.
“Fuck work. My girl’s crying, nothing’s more important than that. Come on.” He pulls me out the door. Iggy’s affectionate with me, but sometimes he’s hard to read. When we first met a year ago, I wasn't sure whether he liked me or just thought of me as a friend. It wasn't until nine-months ago, when we finally kissed, that I knew his real feelings.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see. It’s a place where there’s no way you can be sad.”
My brows furrow, but I follow him. I’d probably follow him anywhere.
“You know, I’ve lived with a lot of families, some good, some bad.” He’s told me about all the foster homes he’s lived in throughout the years. It breaks my heart that he doesn’t have a family, but I feel hopeful when he talks about Leticia. He seems to like her very much, and if it works out and he stays in town, I get to stay close to him forever. “Letty is the only single foster parent I’ve ever had. It’s always a couple. The worst have been when they don’t get along and take out their frustrations on the kids.”
“I know. And, yes, it’s probably for the best that they divorce, but it doesn’t make it any less painful. What about holidays? Graduations, my wedding...”
“One step at a time, babe. It’ll be rough at first but as they reestablish their lives separate from one another, it won’t be weird anymore. Both your parents will be at the important stuff.”
“You know that’s not true. Dad barely comes to things now.”
“Maybe because he doesn’t want to fight with your mom in public?”
I think about that, and it does make some sort of sense. But still it hurts to know they won’t be together, even if being together sucks for them. We round the corner, and he stops at Drop and Shop, a thrift store kinda like Goodwill, which I know Letty owns. I’ve been there a few times.
He opens the door and leads me inside with his palm on my lower back. “Hey, Letty.” He goes around the register and gives the older woman a kiss on the cheek. Her face lights up, and my heart melts. Iggy’s mentioned that she has been fostering children for the last forty years, sometimes two at a time.
“Charlie, honey, what are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”
“I came by with Abby.”
She turns her head. “Oh, I didn’t see you there. Come ‘ere, honey.”
Iggy moves aside. The place is stuffed in every nook and cranny. I come around to give her a hug. “You look sad. Is everything okay?”
“Been better,” I admit.
“I was going to show her the upstairs, if that’s okay.”
Letty extends her small, frail arm to Iggy and squeezes his hand. “Of course it is.” She turns to me. “It’s where we keep our treasures,” she says with a wink.
She is so sweet. The first time I met her was about a month after I met Iggy. She was making gumbo, and I stayed for dinner. She was lovely and funny and made me feel right at home. Just like right now.
“We close in ten minutes, though.”
“Maybe I can close after you and we can stay a while?” he asks.
“Oh sure,” she says, reaching in her pocket for her keys. “Here ya go. Take your time. Maybe I’ll leave now and run to the grocery store before I get home. You can handle the store for a few minutes?”
“Of course, Letty. Don’t worry. I’ll lock up.” We watch her as she grabs her purse and leaves. We linger about the store until it’s time to close up, which Iggy does.
“All right, let’s go.” He takes my hand in his big one and guides me to the back. We travel through the tight aisles until we get to some stairs that lead to some sort of loft. I follow him, marveling at all the old books, lamps, furniture…
“And this is where board games come to die or, if we’re lucky, we can salvage something.” He tosses himself onto an enormous beanbag chair. “Come ’ere,” he says, reaching his hand up. I take it, and he gently pulls me down.
I look around and notice a mammoth wall of board games stacked up to the top, as well as clear boxes full of game pieces such as dice, cards, buttons, etc. “So, our job, if you chose to accept it, is to grab a game, and make sure all the pieces are there. If there’s anything missing, see if there’s another game we can take it from or if the missing piece is in one of those miscellaneous boxes. Once you have a board game with all the pieces, put it aside and I’ll bring it downstairs so Letty can sell it.”
“Wow,” I exclaim as I look up at all the games. “I haven’t seen some of these since I was in preschool.”
“Sometimes I get sidetracked and want to play but I’m usually here alone so…”
“So you brought me here to work?”
“No, I brought you here because there’s a time machine in here.”
I laugh. “What?”
“If you could go back in time where would you go?” he asks, taking out a big, round plastic button from an old board game.
My eyes sting from the tears. “I thought my sister’s wedding was a happy time.”
“You’re in luck. I have a time machine.” He smiles. “Press the red button, close your eyes, and let’s go back to a happy time.”
He’s the sweetest, most wonderful guy I’ve ever met. He took the afternoon off, just to make me feel better. I want to grab him and tell him I love him.
Instead I hand him the button. “It’s your turn. Where would you go?”
He thinks about it and says, “I’m the best I’ve ever been right now. I don’t need a time machine.”
Oh God… My heart.
“You didn’t know your parents. Wouldn’t you like to meet them?”
“Nah.”
“I guess you can’t miss someone you never met.”
“You can,” he corrects me. “You can miss the idea of someone. The idea of parents, of someone who loves you…”
“Yeah, that’s true.”
We’ve been just talking back and forth like this for an hour now, and I feel a little better, but I know of one thing that will make me feel a lot better.
“I see the way you’re looking at me,” he says, pushing the games aside.
“How’s that?”
“Like you don’t give a fuck about these games anymore.”
“You’re smart like that.”
“But you are feeling better, right?”
“I’m with you, so yes, I feel better.”
He looks at me so sweetly. “Babe, I’m afraid you’re not ready for what I want.”
“Iggy. I want you in every way. I’m ready. I trust you.”
He pulls me by the belt loop so that I’m straddling him now. He cups the back of my neck and kisses me—hard and wet. I run my fingers through his hair until we’re both breathless. He reaches underneath my shirt, and pulls down my bra, then cups my breasts. We’ve done a little heavy petting before, so this isn’t new.
After he’s given both my breasts and nipples attention, he turns me so that I’m lying on the beanbag now and he’s on his knees in front of me.
His nostrils are flaring, and his eyes are dark. He undoes the button on my jeans and then pulls them off. I’m in just my white cotton underwear, and my t-shirt is riding up my torso.
“We’re doing this?” he asks. But it’s not a question, but more of a statement. I know he hasn’t had sex before either so I can tell he’s a bit nervous too. But I’m more nervous than he is, so I let him take the lead. He slides a little lower and slowly peels my underwear off.
I feel so vulnerable, and my instinct is to cover myself, but he gently pushes my hands away as he slides back up my body. He starts kissing me again as his hands move down to where I’m wet and exposed. My thighs are pressed together, but he parts them enough to slide his hand between them. He presses his thumb against my slit and moves in slow little circles. He’s done this over my clothes and, once, he even went into my underwear, but I’d never been this naked before. Then he slides his fingers lower and lower, my legs parting on their own before he pushes a finger inside of me. This, we haven’t done before.
“Oh…” I whimper when he begins moving in and out, in, out. He rubs my clit with his thumb as he fingers me. “I’m so fucking turned on,” he whispers into my ear. Suddenly, I’m falling apart on the beanbag chair while he hovers over me. I’ve come before when he’s touched me while we were making out, but it’s never been this intimate. He reaches into his pocket and takes out his wallet. He pulls out a condom, puts it between his teeth and tosses his wallet aside. Then he stands, careful not to hit his head on? The low ceiling of the loft, unzips his jeans, and pulls them off, along with his boxers.
I’ve seen and felt his dick before, but I’ve never seen it like this. It’s hard as a rock and big. He has it in his hand, rubbing it as he gets back on his knees. He rips the condom wrapper open and takes it out and slides it on his dick.
Shit. We’re really doing this.
He kneels back down between my legs.
“Are you sure? We can stop if you’re not sure,” he says, his voice husky.
“I’m so sure,” I say, reaching for a kiss. He lowers himself and starts kissing me again.
“All right, baby, it might hurt.”
I nod and close my eyes as he positions himself and then in one long, swift move he slides all the way in.
“Oww,” I yell as he stills.
“I’m sorry! I thought it would be better to just do it in one move than drag it out.”
My eyes are closed, and I let the burning feeling wash away while he kisses me all over my face and caresses my hair.
“I-I th-think you should move.”
He starts to stroke in and out, and soon the pain becomes need. He’s kissing me wildly as he loses his rhythm, and a few seconds later, almost as fast as it started, he comes.
“Are you okay?” he asks breathlessly, his face tucked into my neck.
“I’m perfect.” I wrap my arms and legs around him. “I love you, Iggy. I’m glad you’re my first.”
“Your first, your last, your only,” he says, which makes me so happy and so full of love I could burst. A little while later, we stand and dress. As we go back downstairs to head home, he gathers my long, red hair in his hand and places it over my left shoulder, leaving my right shoulder bare. My back is to him, and I get goosebumps all over my body. “Remember what we were talking about earlier? About missing someone we’d never met?”
I nod.
“I know I’d miss you if I’d never met you, baby,” he whispers by my ear, his breath tickling my neck.
He never said he loved me that afternoon. But he didn’t have to. Those are words I’ll remember and cherish for the rest of my life.
11
Present Day
IGGY
“How are you feeling?” I ask when she walks into the kitchen the next morning.
“Tired,” she yawns. “You?”
“I’m great. I don’t need a lot of sleep.”
“I don’t either but I do love to sleep. I think I’m going to play hooky today. I’ve never done that but I’m exhausted, thanks to the wine and the conversation that kept me up most of the night.”
“Should I be sorry about that?” I wonder if she’s going to talk about the kiss. And I wonder if we’re going to be doing more of that. I’m not usually a hesitant man, as I tend to go all in with everything I do. But with Abby, and our past, I have to proceed with caution. I need her to take the lead, or I’ll scare her off.
“Yes, you should. Two days back in my life and I’m already being irresponsible.”
“Eh… We all need to take some time off every now and again. I wish I could tell you to go back to bed while I take the kids to school but…”
“But I’m on babysitting duty and can’t be left alone.”
“Something like that,” I say. “The good news is that you can go with me in PJs if you want. You don’t even have to change.”
“That sounds like a dream. And then we can go straight back to bed.”
She stops and looks at me, her face flushed. She quickly adds, “Separately. We can go back to bed, s-separately. Sh-shit that came out wrong.”
I try to hold back a smirk, but it doesn’t work. “It’s okay. Relax.”
She makes a little noise of disgust, and I laugh some more before turning back around to finish making breakfast. Abby goes upstairs to get the kids up, and they slowly shuffle downstairs to eat. I get grumbly and sleepy good mornings followed by thank yous for breakfast. Abby does her morning ritual of yelling at the kids to hurry up, and the kids do their ritual of whining until everyone’s in the car. On the road the kids talk about school things, and then they both say their goodbyes once we get there.
“I’m exhausted,” I tease. “This happens every single morning, huh?”
“Yep. If I had one wish in the world it would be that one day they’ll magically wake up at the sound of the alarm, make their own breakfast, and wait for me patiently by the front door.”
“They’re great kids, Abs, but I don’t think that wish is coming true anytime soon.”
“I know.”
“Did you call in to work already?”
“Yep. I got a substitute teacher and I’m free to do absolutely nothing today.”
“Do you want to start with breakfast or with sleep?”
“Sleep. Definitely sleep.”
“Okay. I’ll stay out of your hair. I have to make some calls for work.”
“Night club, MMA gym, or super-secret special forces work? Which one?”
She’s funny. “All three.” I have to call my partners at the club and the MMA academy, and I also want to cancel my overseas missions coming up next month. I hope that by then, Abby and the kids will be out of trouble, but I think I’d like to stick around Tarpon Springs for a bit. I know I’m jumping the gun, but I forgot how much I loved this town and how I like being in Abby’s orbit, even if we’re just friends.
