Still Beating

“You should come out with me tonight.”

I’m sitting with my best friend in our favorite local coffee shop, sipping on a latte like I didn’t just attempt suicide two weeks ago.

I glance up at Lily, cupping the warm brew between my palms, considering her offer while nibbling my lip. “I don’t know. I go back to work on Monday—I should probably just rest up and relax this weekend.”

Lily fiddles with her long, dark braid hanging over one shoulder. “I think it will be good for you. You’ve been a hermit ever since…” She lowers her eyes. “Well, you know. I feel like it’s only been taking you down a black hole of despair. You need fun and friends.”

I instinctively reach for my wrist, catching myself before I start scratching at it. I finger my necklace instead. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know those words. Are they new?”

She shakes her head with a laugh. “Come on, Cora. I’m meeting Amy and the guys at the new brewery downtown. Everyone would love to see you.”

“I’m a mess, Lily. This morning was the first time in weeks I put on pants that didn’t have an elastic waistband and nautical dog patterns.”

“Exactly. It’s time to put yourself back out there.” Lily shoots me a mischievous wink from across the bistro table. “Jason will be there.”

Ugh. Jason.

“That’s not a good idea. I know you’re just trying to help, but…” I squeeze my coffee cup a little too hard and cappuccino starts leaking out the top. “I’m kind of emotionally involved with someone else right now.”

Crap. I finally said it. I finally admitted my awful, salacious truth.

Lily doesn’t know about Dean. She’s about to flip out and do that thing with her mouth.

“What? Who?” she wonders, craning her neck back with disbelief.

I cough into my hand. “Dean.”

“Irene?” She blinks. “The science teacher with the sideburns?”

I cough again. “Dean.”

“Stop coughing!”

“Dean,” I finally say, loud and clear, then slink back into my seat with reddening cheeks.

Lily does that thing with her mouth, gaping at me with her eyes bugged out. “Please tell me this is a Supernatural reference. I know those Winchesters seem so real sometimes when we’re all alone at night with our vibr—”

“Dean. Dean Asher. Dean, my sister’s ex. My almost brother-in-law, my long-time nemesis, the source of nearly every single migraine I’ve ever had over the last fifteen years, the reason I have a complex about spaghetti… and the only reason I’m still alive right now rambling off my sinful secret to you.” I say it all in one breath, placing both palms against my flushed face. I inhale deep, both shame and longing battling it out inside me.

The shame is for dodging his calls ever since I was released from the hospital, even though he’s the only person in the world I long to hear from. I’ve sent him a few texts to let him know I’m doing okay so he doesn’t worry, but I keep them brief and unemotional. And I completely ignored his text from last night asking if we could grab lunch this weekend and talk.

Lily is rendered speechless, which is uncommon. She stares at me with copper eyes, processing the absurdity I just spewed at her. “Wow.”

“Yeah. Wow.”

“That’s…” She blows out a breath.

“I’m broken.” I slouch further into the chair, hoping it’ll swallow me up. “I’m broken, right?”

“Maybe a little.”

Oof. I pick at the fuzzy snags on my sweater, then pull the sleeves down over my hands. “I don’t even know how it happened,” I whisper softly.

Lily takes a sip of her chai tea and sets the cup down on the table. “I got some vibes at Mandy’s New Year’s party, but I figured it was just tension bubbling over from everything you guys went through. I never thought…” She fills her cheeks with air and lets it out, then averts her eyes with consideration. “I mean, I guess I can see it. He’s hot as sin and he’s always been weirdly protective of you.”

I frown. “No, he hasn’t. He’s always been an ass.”

“Yeah, but in a cute way.”

“No.”

“Come on, Cora. You guys have always had chemistry. You just acted on it by torturing each other.” Lily shrugs, tapping her nails against the side of her paper cup. “And obviously, circumstances wouldn’t allow for much else.”

My jaw starts to ache from gnashing my teeth together. I look down at my latte, hoping the little design made in foam will reach out and pull me in since the chair was a disappointing failure. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

A sympathetic smile pulls at her lips, and Lily leans forward on her elbows. “Is this the point in our friendship where you come to me with a terrible dilemma and I’m supposed to offer you super sage wisdom and give you all the answers?”

“Yes. Definitely.”

She shrugs. “Well, shit. I’m not prepared at all. I’ve got nothing.”

I groan as my face falls into my hands. “Awesome.”

“It could be worse?” she offers, giving me a triumphant thumbs up.

I peer at her through the cracks in my fingers, shaking my head, and grumble, “No, it can’t. This is literally rock bottom.”

“Ooh, so… it’s only up from here.”

“You would make a terrible therapist.”

Lily falls back against her chair with a soft smile, and I know she’s just trying to cheer me up and make a horrible situation lighter.

She crosses her arms over her V-neck sweater and sighs. “You really want my advice?”

“I’m not sure anymore.”

She chuckles, reaching for her tea. “I would go for it, woman. Get the guy, have some hot sex, and forget about everything else.”

“That’s terrible advice,” I say, pursing my lips together with narrowed eyes.

“Yeah, well, that’s why you’re my only friend.”

I gawk at Lily for a moment, then burst out laughing, the sound of it startling me.

Lily winks at me over her cup. “You know it’s true. But for real, Cora, do what makes you happy. You’ve gone through stuff I can’t even imagine and you deserve a little happiness. Dean might not be the smartest choice on paper, but it’s your life. You can’t tiptoe around your heart in fear of pissing people off or hurting their feelings. Sometimes we need to be a little selfish in order to avoid a life of complacency.”NôvelDrama.Org owns this text.

My fingers curl around my beverage, tightening their grip. “That was a little bit profound.”

“Right? I think I nailed it.” Lily performs a dramatic bow, then smiles over at me. “Also… just between you and me? If roles were reversed, Mandy wouldn’t hesitate.”

This grabs my attention and I jerk my head back up. “What makes you think that?”

“Call it a gut instinct.” Lily flips her braid over her shoulder with a shrug. “Let’s put it this way: did she or did she not sleep with that guy you were crushing on during those few months her and Dean split up?”

I scrunch up my nose. “Benjamin, the attorney? That was different. I was never with Ben—it was just a crush. Mandy has been with Dean for half her life.”

“I get it,” Lily replies, holding up her hands. “It’s not exactly the same… I’m just saying. She never even considered your feelings and she knew you liked the guy. I always thought it was shady.”

I twist the hem of my sweater between my hands. “That was also a long time ago. She’s grown up a lot since then.”

“Okay,” Lily says dismissively. “You’re right. My point is, no one is perfect. Everyone is a little selfish sometimes when it comes to matters of the heart.”

I lower my head, my chest constricting.

“Speaking of… I’m going to be selfish and drag you out tonight. I miss you.”

I wasn’t ready for this.

The lights, the noise, the music, the attention.

Everyone is looking at me. Everyone knows me. My face comes up in their newsfeeds. I’m on their television screens. My name slips from their mouths in casual conversation. My trauma is a trending story on their social media accounts.

My body freezes as I look around the crowded bar, squeezing my wrist with my opposite hand and massaging my pulse point. Hurried breaths escape my lips and I can hear my heart beating in my ears.

Lily links her elbow with mine, tugging me forward. “You okay?”

I lie with a nod. “I’m fine.”

“You seem tense.”

We approach a group of friends, and I know all of them except for one: Amy and her boyfriend, Trevor, and a nameless man with ebony eyes and long, black hair.

“Where’s Jason?” Lily wonders, leaning into Amy for a hug.

Amy is a petite tomboy, dressed in a baggy t-shirt and black leggings. She smiles bright as she embraces Lily. “He canceled last minute. I’m not sure.” She shifts her attention to me with wide, curious eyes, her smile lingering. “You look great, Cora. I’m so happy to see you.”

Amy doesn’t give me a hug, and I wonder if it’s because she thinks I’m dirty. Tainted in some way. Contagious. I force a pleasant expression and offer a wave. “Thanks. It’s definitely been a tough few months.”

I shake Trevor’s hand, having met him a few times in the past, then face the mysterious man to the right.

“That’s Lars, one of Trevor’s friends,” Lily introduces.

“Hi, I’m Cora.” I hold out my hand and he takes it, his gaze flickering to my chest, then drifting back up. “Nice to meet you.”

“Hey,” he says.

I tug my blouse up. I tried to wear something cute since I’ve been slumming it in sweatpants and pajamas for weeks on end, but I didn’t want anything too revealing. However, my sweetheart blouse is hanging low on my frame due to the weight I have yet to put back on, revealing more cleavage than I’d intended.

The evening presses on with idle conversation and a few rounds of drinks. I nurse a rum and Coke the entire time, trying to be invisible as the friends catch up and joke around. Lars is quiet, not saying much, but his stare is piercing—and often fixed on me. It makes me nervous, prompting me to start scratching my wrist again, even though I told myself I would stop.

“I like your eyes. They look like lily pads,” Lars says at one point, earning my full attention.

Lily perks up at the sound of her name. “What about my pads?”

“Not you, girl,” Amy says, swatting at her arm.

I send Lars a half smile, clearing my throat and forcing a small laugh. “Thank you. That’s sweet.”

Something tells me Lars is anything but sweet.

“Wanna dance?” he asks, not waiting for my reply and snaking his fingers around my wrist.

I jump back and drop my glass.

Everyone stops talking to stare at me, and I wonder if they would forget I was ever here if I made a mad dash to the exit right now. “S-Sorry, I’m such a klutz,” I mutter. I lean down to pick up the glass, but a bartender is already headed over with a broom.

Lars’ fingers are still curled around my wrist. My reaction didn’t seem to phase him, and he pulls me over to the dance floor with an impish smile stretched across his wide jaw. I catch Lily winking at me as I blindly follow the stranger out into the crowd, his large palm reaching behind my back and resting there. Tension and nerves sweep through me as the music blares louder, the crowd grows bigger, and the lights flash around me like a strobe, making me dizzy.

“Relax, doll,” Lars whispers, his voice buttery smooth.

It’s just a dance. You’re fine. You’re safe.

I rein in a sharp breath, trying to let go of the apprehension.

This isn’t me. I’ve always been fun and flirty, unafraid of male attention. I’m social and outgoing. I’ve never shied away from dancing, or casual touches, or compliments.

“I heard about your story,” Lars says, pulling me to his barreling chest. He’s a huge man, well over six-foot, with muscles and tattoos. “You’re a fighter.”

I inch back, keeping a gap between us. “It’s been hard,” I respond, feeling his hand squeeze mine. “Sorry if I seem like a spaz. I’m still adjusting.”

“No need to apologize, kitten.”

My blood runs cold, and I glance up at him through timid lashes. Lars smiles down at me, his fingers skimming up and down my spine with sensual strokes.

Suddenly, I’m in that basement again. Earl is violating me while Dean talks me through it.

Look at me. Focus on me. It’s just you and me, Cora.

These hands on me feel strange and unfamiliar. His eyes are much too dark, his voice missing that playful edge. His skin is too rough and his hair is too long.

This is wrong. It’s all wrong.

I feel like everything is spinning, and I’m not sure if I should hold on for dear life or run away.

“You all right?” Lars asks, tipping his head back to study me.

I’m certain I’ve gone ashen, and my chest feels like it’s going to explode. “I-I can’t do this.”

“Need some water?”

I shake my head, taking hesitant steps backwards. “I think I need to go.”

I don’t wait for Lars to respond. I make a quick stop over to Lily to let her know I’m not feeling well, then I call an Uber and get the hell out of there.

Ten minutes later, I’m standing on his front stoop.

I knock four times before the door swings open and Dean is standing in front of me, tired and disheveled, with a look of utter confusion creasing his brow. “Cora? Are you okay?”

My gaze trails over him and I feel safe again. He’s only wearing sweatpants, no shirt, and his hair is tousled from sleep. His eyes, his eyes, they are beautifully blue like a summer sky, and his hands are perfect and soft and reaching for me. “Dean…” I whisper, and I’m not sure what it’s supposed to mean. Relief? Longing? Sadness?

Love?

Those hands graze up and down my upper arms, the worry in his face etched tight. “Are you hurt?”

I shake my head as my eyes fix on his bare torso, well-muscled and lean. Smooth to the touch, yet rough and powerful when he’s holding me, moving with me, our bodies intertwined. I glance back up to him and note the flash of desire that flickers across his face when he catches my unabashed perusal.

It’s all I need.

I place my palms against his chest, pushing him back gently until we’re both walking inside his townhouse. I kick the door shut with my heel, and then I’m all over him. Dean intakes a gasp of surprise when my hands clasp his face, pulling him to me, and my mouth collides with his. I kiss him hard, furious, full of need and want and everything inside me I’m able to give. When our tongues meet, it’s like I’m home.

Dean pulls back slightly, one hand cradling the back of my head, his fingers threading through my hair, and the other grasping my upper arm. “What are you doing?” he asks through a stunned breath.

My palms skim up the expanse of his chest, curling over his shoulders. Our eyes lock and I respond, “Being selfish.”

I don’t miss the subtle frown, the hint of perplexity, but I capture his mouth again before he can reply. I keep walking him backwards through the living room, my hands in his hair, tugging and pulling, my tongue going to war with his. His groans only make me want him more. I remove my hands from his skin to discard my coat and my shoes, then unbutton my pants, sliding my jeans and underwear down my hips and kicking them off as we continue our trek to the nearest piece of furniture.

We find the couch first.

I give him a small shove until he collapses back onto the cushions, then I crawl on top of him, straddling his thighs with my knees. My fingers hook inside his waistband and he raises his hips on instinct, allowing me to yank the sweatpants down. His erection springs free, and I take him in my hand, drowning in the sounds he makes when I stroke him up and down, swirling my thumb along the wet tip. I kiss him hard as I pump my hand.

“Fuck, Cora…” We pull back to breathe, but our lips stay connected, our teeth pressed together as his hands slide up and down my back, long fingers dipping beneath my blouse. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you,” I reply, the words escaping like a rogue whimper. I lift up and position him at my core, squeaking out a moan when he grazes my entrance. I need this. I need him. He’s the only calm to my madness, the only light to my dark, the only sweet to my bitter remains.

He tames me.

He heals me.

I lower myself onto his cock, watching his head fall back, his eyes closing, his jaw tightening. His hands drop to my hips, holding me firm, feeling the way I slide down on him, taking him all the way in. God, he feels good. He’s big and thick, filling me completely. In every way.

I rock up and down, clasping my hands behind his neck and fusing our mouths back together. Dean opens willingly, digging his fingers into my waist when my tongue brushes against his. It’s tender for a moment, languid and soft, but my movements pick up as desperation floods me, and our mouths go hungry. His teeth nick my lips, and I clench my internal muscles as I ride him, causing him to tug my hair back and devour my neck. He sucks and bites as I cling to him, my pace increasing. His mouth travels up to my ear and he nibbles the lobe, asking breathily, “You still mine?”

“Always.”

I don’t hesitate. I probably should, but I don’t.

A raspy growl escapes him, something possessive and raw, and he drags his fingers backwards until he’s cupping my ass, squeezing me as I cry out from the pleasure of it all. His cock is hitting all the right places, sending euphoric tingles through me, pushing me towards the edge. I skim my fingers through his hair and drop my forehead to his, locking our eyes as I grind against his groin until my body begins to shudder. I come hard, mewling and whimpering as shockwaves light me up and send me spiraling. “Dean, Dean… Oh, God, Dean…” I chant through my climax, inciting him to squeeze me harder, pull me closer, and ram his hips up, spearing me deep with his hard cock.

“I fucking love it when you say my name like that,” he says raggedly, strained and heady. He thrusts into me three more times before tensing up and releasing, pulling me to him and clinging hard, his hands in my hair as he comes.

I hold him tight, my mouth pressed to his neck as his body tremors, a throaty groan escaping him. I kiss him then, tasting how much he wants me and burning it into every aching part of me. We come down together, our bodies slicked with sweat and the evidence of our lovemaking.

Dean wraps his arms around my middle, linking them behind my back and sighing deep into my mouth. “Goddamn, you’re sexy. You drive me crazy.”

I smile against his lips, giving him a quick kiss before pulling back. I reach for the box of tissues on the side table to clean us up, then I drag the comforter towards us, lifting myself off of him and wrapping the big blanket around my shoulders.

Dean lies down and pulls me with him, and I spread the blanket over both of us as I snuggle into the crest of his arm. My legs intertwine with his, my hair haloing his chest and shoulder, and I feel him press a kiss to the top of my head.

Peace.

This is what peace feels like.

And as our bodies relax and melt together, I realize I don’t need him to sing to me or massage my wrist, or offer any kind of escape from the dark cloud that hovers over me.

He is enough.

His heartbeat is all I need.