Rated M (actually MA) so be aware
Seconds felt like minutes. Minutes felt like eternity. He was standing in front of her door, knowing that finally he'd have the chance to end it. End the uncertainty. End the hostility. Or turn it into a war. He stood by her door, knowing she was in there. Alone.
He could hear no sound coming from the inside. As a matter of fact, everything around him seemed strangely quiet. Where was everybody?
There it was; scream of a girl followed by laughter. Silence again.
Maybe he should just knock. But he got that key card that Seth got for him. Was it too unconventional to sneak inside her room like a thief when she was inside? Immoral for sure, but he was accustomed to those kinds of things.
What if she was sleeping, he wondered. It wouldn't be nice of him to knock on the door and wake her up. Then again, how it would be better if she woke up and saw him next to her?
There wasn't a good choice.
Dean sighed. He took a deep breath and looked around to see if there were any witnesses. No; he was safe.
He held the card in his hand, moving it slowly, uncertainly toward the door. No, he couldn't do that. That'd be plan B.
Plan A . . . he knocks.
He heard steps as she walked to open the door. She seemed to have hesitated at the end because the sound of her walking ceased to exist but the door was still closed. "Who's there?" she asked.
An idea of lying, putting on an act where he masterly misleads her and makes her believe her life depends on opening that door, flashed through his mind. He wouldn't do that, though. "It's me." He put the card back into his pocket, trusting her to let him in.
Still, he was surprised when she opened the door.
Dean got in and closed the door. In the meantime, Renee placed herself on the bed, lying down on her back, covering her head with a pillow. She didn't seem very cheerful, but Dean doubted his presence had much to do with it. On the other hand, it was probable that her apathy existed because of him.
"Is it okay if I talk to you?"
She either didn't say anything or the sound failed to transfer through the pillow.
Dean moved closer, but remained fairly distanced from her.
"Are you mad at me?" he posed an automatic question which he didn't really want to explore. He quickly continued, "I'm not mad at you. I admit I was . . . before . . ." He sighed, leaving the area surrounding her bed and moving further away. ". . . But . . ." He didn't know what to say. "Yeah . . . there's really no reason." As he stood by the desk, he picked up a book she was probably reading before. He briefly opened it and scanned a couple of pages before putting it down again.
He found her phone. It was on the other side of the desk, charging. It was probably fully charged because the light was on and he could see the wallpaper. Renee and some guy. Her boyfriend probably. Short dark hair, beard. Smiling. She was too. Dean couldn't say that picture had no effect on him. But he let go of the sight and turned back to her.
"I'm not gonna tell you that all I'm asking for is 5 minutes. I didn't come here with a certain goal," he admitted. "I don't know what exactly I want to talk about, but we need to talk, I know that much. And I have no idea how long that can take."
She did not move nor did she say a single word.
"Of course if you have nothing to say, it all depends on me." He looked away from her, now checking the picture on the wall. A tempestuous sea and a ship; how original. "Where should I start?" He glanced at her. Nothing. "Okay," he uttered quietly just to himself. Slowly, carefully, he walked closer to her. His feet were touching the ground very silently, and with the pillow over her head, she had no chance to hear him approaching her.
"Renee," he said when he was standing right next to her. He considered sitting on the edge of the bed, but he chose not to do it. "I suppose you don't want to talk about . . . you know," he hesitated, ". . . that . . . thing. But please, if there's more I should know, tell me." Look into distant abstractness. A sigh. "I don't want to be left out. Whether it's good news or bad news . . . unexpected news . . . I want to know." In the end, he did sit down on the bed, and in reaction she moved a bit to the left, away from him. When Dean tried to take the barrier, that is the pillow, away, she grasped it more tightly. "I know that Seth knows about it. And just to give you a heads-up, Roman knows too." Dean added, "But it's not like he's gonna talk to you about it." Dean watched the pillow – could she breathe underneath? "I'm not gonna force you into talking about it either. That said, I'd appreciate if you talked . . . on your own. Let's not just sweep it under the rug."
He gave her time to react; an opportunity to stop hiding and say what was on her mind. There had to be things she wanted to talk about. Perhaps there were, but she remained quietly lying on bed, pretending she was in there alone. See no evil, hear no evil.
Dean stood up. Maybe by giving her space she would feel like having more freedom to talk. He went all the way toward the other side of the room so that she would have no reason to feel intimidated or pressurized by him; that, of course, only if she knew he was no longer beside her. Whether she felt or not like under attack from her ex, she did not let anything show. She kept her uninviting position, and it appeared she could stay like that forever.
"Maybe you don't want to talk about it, Renee, but I do. The truth is, I thought about it. Seth had told me that my reaction to that news was absolutely inappropriate so I let it sink in. And remembered what you said . . . well, your nodding and shaking your head," he said smiling, suggesting he was either amused by it or found it cute, "but, well, that wasn't much. All you said was . . . fundamental information. I needed to know more. Something more personal. So I went through our conversation. The one we had on Valentine's Day, you remember? I'm sure you do," he added almost immediately. "I read what you wrote . . ." He paused to reflect. Right before coming here he read it again just to be sure he remembered it correctly. "You wrote 'It's probably for the best that things developed the way they did. Now I'm free to do whatever I want.' " Dean made another break. Maybe to see if she lifted her pillow now, but she was just as unresponsive as before. "Before, I thought you referred to our break-up. But I reassessed that and I figured you're glad you're not having my baby. Correct me if I'm wrong," he uttered in a casual way, but he really hoped she'd prove him wrong. Which, of course, she didn't. "Then, when I said I was sorry you felt that way, you accused me of having wanted that. A break from the relationship and commitments. And, I gotta say, it kinda hurts you think that of me." For a second there, he was certain she would jump up and ask 'Isn't it true?' Again, there was no response.
Dean took out his phone. Although it wasn't unusual for him to memorize lines, this seemed difficult. Even more when it mattered so much to phrase it correctly. He read the messages to himself and then prepared to speak to her. However, before opening his mouth, he took a minute to watch her ignoring him. A sort of anger passed through his body when he realized all those things she accused him of. "You said you were glad," he put a special emphasis on that word, "that there were no complications." He was hurt. He felt disappointed, having had realized she did not trust him and did not want him to be part of her future. At least not anymore.
Only noise that could be heard were his steps as he once more walked closer to her, stopping beside the bed. "The way I see it, there are complications. Many. We both fucked up so much this year; it'd be hard to count it. And clearly life likes to screw with us too. But I realized one thing. Unexpected pregnancy would not be a complication." He saw her peeking at him, then quickly hiding again. Still, it was somewhat satisfying to see her interest. "I know, I was the one who broke up with you, so me saying this now doesn't make sense to you, but it's true."
She was back at her ignorance. Dean sat down on the bed again, but this time she did not move away. He lifted his hand and moved it over to her side, planting it close to the edge of her body. He wondered whether she could feel his presence, his hand so electrifyingly close to her waist that he was almost touching her shirt. Maybe it looked like he surrounded her, but the truth was, if she wanted to escape, she always could. She didn't. Not even when he stretched his finger and touched her.
"I was stupid to let you go," he said while gently caressing her waist, slowly engaging more and more fingers, until the palm of his right hand was feeling the heat from her body. He noticed goosebumps on the skin of her arms that were on top of the pillow. "You know why I did it?" Dean asked rhetorically. "I thought having a serious relationship was not compatible with my wrestling career. I thought it'd be better to let you go and focus on wrestling because that was always the highest priority. I did not think you were as important to me . . . I never considered reassessing my priorities . . . But almost two months later, here we are and you're still on my mind. And I wish I could . . ." The mouth stopped talking as eyes lingered on her lower waist, his hand's playground. He was squeezing the fabric of her T-shirt, touching her body through it. Then he moved his hand just a bit lower where the division between the shirt and pants was. He couldn't see her skin, but he imagined there were goosebumps on that part of her body too. The finger sneaked between the two parts of her clothes and moved the grey shirt a bit up, just enough for his hand to have access to her ice-cold skin. And yes, there were goosebumps which he was certain he caused.
To be honest, he was kind of surprised when she did not push him away, not even tried to pull her shirt down again. She lay there and let him press his hand against her waistline, moving up and down in slow, caring movements. But soon he started to doubt the rightness of what he was doing. Sure, she did no object, but with her eyes hidden underneath the pillow and her mouth shut, he felt like betraying her trust, doing something without her permission. "You mind?" he asked. This one time he was glad not to get any response. A smile emerged on his face as his hand continued its movements alongside her waist. At one point it found itself so high up that it discovered her bra. As if reaching the enemy's lines, his hand jerked away and returned to the lower region, moving to the left, feeling her stomach.
By no way he wanted to make her uncomfortable. All he did was following his instincts, his fundamental needs that for some reason required him to feel her body. He watched the rising and lowering movements of her chest happening at more and more irregular intervals as her breathing quickened. He linked this to the lack of oxygen her lungs were getting. The pillow needed to go away.
He was running his nails across her belly, going up again, fearlessly this time, reaching the flat part between her boobs with his right thumb, then turning right, realizing the unequal terrain, enjoying the softness of the hill. His hand embraced the cup of the bra, lifting it up a bit, but not invading her privacy. Her shirt was up, mainly because he was sitting, but he did not wonder about this, he just enjoyed the sight of her exposed flat stomach. His hand moved even higher, above her breast. He could feel her heartbeat. Being so high up her torso, and due to his arm's mostly vertical position, her shirt moved even higher and he caught a glimpse of the bottom of her dark blue bra. As he pressed his hand against her chest, getting a good feel of her boob, her heartrate intensified.
He licked his lips while considering his next move. His hand slowly retreated and finally abandoned her body completely. Dean lay down next to her, but kept his weight on the left elbow that was supporting him. His head was up as well, eyes watching the gap between the shirt and the pants that exposed her skin. A quick glance at the pillow preceded this, making him wonder what to do. What he did in the end was placing his right hand alongside her waist again, but now that his body was positioned horizontally, some of the mass transferred toward her, effectively making their bodies touch. He looked at the pillow again, letting out a quiet sigh. When he moved his right hand up the edge of her body, he decided for a more resolute action. He went higher and higher, passing her armpit and continuing alongside her arm. He reached the end, placed over the pillow, and found her palm. One of his fingers checked for its friendliness. He couldn't help but smile when her hand closed, trapping two of his fingers within the gates. He managed to get out and grab her hand from outside. Then he circled her hand and finally their palms met.
Holding her hand now, he took command of the next move. No more grasping the pillow that was hiding her face from him. In a coordinated movement, they hands changed position. Dean guided her away from the pillow, finding the sanctuary for both of their hands on her stomach. He then left her hand and went on another mission, gently grabbing her right hand and moving it between their bodies. There was only a small gap between their torsos, and their legs were in contact for sure. Moreover, Dean now decreased the angle that was between them and put more weight on his belly. Finally, the right arm reached for the pillow and tossed it away.
Now he could see her face. Her scared but beautiful face. Her eyes were closed and head turned the other way. She did not want to be facing his direction. Dean looked down and took her hand in his again. They laced their fingers – she held as much responsibility as him. But he left her this time too. His hand got out to be able to race across her arm, passing her shoulder and continuing alongside the edge. He stopped short before reaching her face. Still, he was close, close enough to stretch his thumb and touch the skin on her face. He started at the jaw. In the meantime, his other fingers, as the whole hand, proceeded under her chin, getting close to her neck. The thumb rubbed against her lips, parting them. He watched them close as soon as he withdrew his thumb. But she wasn't really protesting; it was easy for him to turn her head toward him with nothing more than a simple push from his thumb.
His hand liked the location so it remained on her neck, caressing it. He watched her for a second because the sight was incredibly hypnotizing. His body so close to hers . . . Her right hand sneakily got on his side. For this, she had to lean toward him and abandon her mummy position. Her eyes were still closed. All she focused on was breathing. She had been under that pillow for long. Dean let her take in some oxygen that he knew she urgently needed. And it'd be good if she reserved some for future.
He was so close that she had to feel his breathing. Was that terrifying? She did not protest to anything he was doing. Not even to his pushing her head to the left to have her even closer. The distance was so small, and it kept diminishing.
And then she opened her eyes. Her heart started racing again, and it was even more intense this time. That sight . . . of course it brought about a reaction. After all, he was beside her, their bodies touching, her hand on his waist, another beside his body, his hand on her neck, and his face right in front of her. He was watching her with his relentless eyes and she was looking back. One could hear a pin drop, yet they wouldn't notice even a tank making its way through the room. All they saw were the eyes of the other person and that enigmatic expression in their faces.
None of them said a word. But their heartbeats spoke for themselves. This was incredibly exciting and terrifying at the same time. So desirous that it couldn't be wrong.
Dean caressed her neck with his thumb, but all he could think of . . . Her hand somehow slipped under his shirt and he felt her cold fingers on his skin.
He was so focused that he wasn't focused at all. That skin . . . that pulsation under his touch. That breath that he felt on his face. . . . Their noses touched. Only now he fully realized how close to each other they were. But he wouldn't move away. In fact, he moved even closer.
Hot breath. Uncontrollable excitement. . . . That strong desire. His eyes stared into hers until her eyelids shut. His brain was burning; it could not withstand this for much longer. Nor could his body.
That one last inch. She took a deep breath and breathed out into his face. Dean closed his eyes and kissed her.
He felt a wave of electricity run through his body in the moment he felt her lips. Dry. Soft. And so comfortable. They engaged with his in gentle movements, longing for what he had to offer.
The left hand took charge of safeguarding her head while the right hand slipped from her neck, passed the collarbone, continued through her chest – mimicking the shape of her right breast along the way – and finally arrived at her abdomen, digging his fingernails into her side, leaving red marks there. Having his hand around her waist, he drew her closer, just as his body moved toward her.
With her hand on him, caressing his back, Dean's leg stealthily abandoned the area of its own, crossed no man's land, and invaded the trenches of the enemy. It separated her legs and got itself in between, with knee high up.
Dean's right hand turned into a hook under her arm. Half of his body was covering hers but he was hungry for more. She got her right arm under him. Actually, it was under his T-shirt, feeling the naked skin, the muscular body that belonged to the wrestler.
The lips appreciated the attention they were getting. But their significance was slowly diminishing as their hungry tongues entered the game. The kiss grew more passionate, more intoxicating. Their hands made sure the person they longed for would not slip away. The mouth made sure they wouldn't want to.
The time has stopped passing; the surroundings did not matter. Brain was shut to prevent questioning the rightness or wrongness of what was happening. This was not time for their consciousness to take charge; it was asleep; but even if they started to be aware of what was happening, nothing would change. Desires prevailed.
Dean embraced her in his arms as Renee's hands now got on his upper back. Dean's white shirt rolled up and exposed his scars. Her shirt was not safe either, for Dean eagerly moved it up and made their torsos touch without having that annoying piece of fabric between them. Goosebumps on her body were not caused by cold, he was 100% sure.
He withdrew his tongue and changed the mostly passionate kiss into a gentler one. The activity was subsiding; for the last time Dean brushed his lips against hers before moving away. He opened his eyes and waited for her eyes to open too. That did not take more than two seconds.
Renee looked at him; her brain finally managed to speak its opinion. Despite awareness, her mouth was shut.
They shared a long eye contact during which Dean caressed Renee's cheek with the back of his hand. She squeezed the bottom part of his shirt, licking her lips, and then grabbed it with both hands, slowly pulling it up.
None of them hesitated. Dean got his arms up to make it easier for her to turn her wants into reality. She pulled his plain T-shirt over his head and let it casually land on the floor next to the bed. Dean lowered his body on hers, pressing more arrogantly against her chest. Her head laid on the pillow that she found more comfortable under her head than above it, and waited for him to come closer. He did. Dean took her hand into his and laced their fingers. Subsequently he placed their hands beside her body, leaving the comfort of her palm, and moved alongside her waist. This time, however, he chose for different direction. He caressed her hip and continued on her thigh, having enough control over it to pull it closer to his hips. She bent her knee and instinctively moved her leg over his to rub her foot against it. Dean still held her thigh, having his hand on the back of it, close to her bum. They maintained the thrilling eye contact but could not stand holding on to the separation.
Renee took initiative, asking for his lips again. Dean replied to her prayer and rubbed his lips against hers teasingly. She did not want that, and made that clear when she tried to sneak her tongue in. Dean withstood the pressure for another second, but he himself was too hungry to tease both of them. When she made another request, Dean took her lower lip between his and sucked on it. Somehow she managed to slip her tongue in his mouth, and when that happened, none of them let go.
The kiss was passionate from the very beginning. They wanted each other so bad. No matter the conditions, important was only the fact that they were together now.
While their tongues were playing, Dean slipped his hand under her shirt, stroking her belly and occasionally gripping her skin and massaging it, demonstrating how much he wanted her. Finally his finger slid under the bra. When the access proved difficult, he reached behind her back and opened the bra. With Renee's help he glade the straps along her arms, and then he was free to remove the obstacle altogether, tossing it across the room.
His hand got right back on her chest. He massaged her right tit with such desire that he did not care about being gentle. Playing with her nipple, it got hard pretty quickly. He continued discovering the territory for little longer while his tongue kept being occupied in the mouth region.
She moaned as he grasped to her breasts with both hands. Then one of his hands went to her thigh, slowly moving up her leg, stopping short of her groin. He moved his pelvis closer, and another moan came out of her mouth when she felt the bulge in his pants. As if it wasn't bad enough, while still drowning in the desirous kiss, she went on to explore that area. Her hand gently cupped the bulge and then she started stroking it, pressing her palm against his crotch, to what he could only answer with more passionate attitude. The fingers of the hand that was on her thigh moved between her legs and started teasing her lower region. Following her agreement with his actions, he got his hands on the outline of her pants, and while planting soft kisses on her lower stomach, he pulled her pants down, very slowly, coordinating the movement with the kisses that went lower and lower and were occasionally accompanied with his tongue sticking out and licking her skin.
She moaned as he kissed her inner thighs. She tried to pull him up to her level, but none of them really wanted that. He stayed down, enjoying the company of her recently shaved legs. As he got the pants out of the way, Dean remained holding her foot, caressing its sole, but being careful not to tickle her. He gave one last kiss to the instep before leaving the place altogether. He traced up her leg with his finger, and then he again took the position from before, with his lips on her lower stomach, fingers close to the danger zone. Encouraged by her sighs, he stroked the insides of her thighs and continued between her legs, stroking her intimate parts through her underwear. There was no need to further check how aroused she was for he could easily feel the wetness. As a result, he smiled.
He withdrew from the area only for a second, just to take his jeans off. Then he returned, laying down on top of her, tracing his hand along her waist, getting a bit annoyed by the shirt she was still wearing. Nevertheless, he moved it higher, exposing her stomach as well as her boobs that he couldn't resist grabbing in his hands.
His dick was wishing to escape the prison of the boxers, and with his movement higher to reach her lips, he pressed his boner against her wet underwear. Subsequently, she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer to her, to every inch of her body. She was craving for his presence, and the passion she put into the kiss reflected this.
Dean managed to get away with a considerate difficulty. He had other things in his mind than wasting time on kissing the lips. His tongue glued to her skin between her boobs, but within the next minute, it was focusing its attention to her boobs and her hard nipples. Then the tongue continued on its way down, stopping at the navel for a few seconds, and going lower again.
Now her underwear had to go away because it was in the way of his further plans. He was very gentle taking it off and placing it elsewhere. He looked at her and smiled. She closed her eyes and lay her head down. Dean put his hands on her hips and dove between her legs with his head. He started with a soft kiss on her clit but engaged his tongue almost immediately. She moaned and gasped for air as he started moving his tongue faster, getting it in but playing on the outside as well. In a brief second that he glanced at her he noticed that she got the pillow again, once more having it covering her head, clenching it with both of her hands. This time he didn't mind; he even found it interesting and exciting. It got him thinking about something more S&M, but other than amusement those thoughts were of no use right now.
The moans were still audible despite the barrier that she put into use in order to reduce noticeability of the effects that Dean's actions had on her. However, it was difficult to breathe under the pillow, now more than before. Finally, she put the pillow away. Her hands found their way into Dean's messy hair and pretended to be guiding him. He needed no guidance though. And when her hands slipped down on her legs to meet his, he increased the pace and the experience became more intense for her. Her body shook with pleasure that wasn't asked for but welcomed. In the end, she did grasp the pillow again, gripped to it tightly and clenched her teeth into it as she reached orgasm.
With satisfaction that pleasing her brought to him, Dean smiled at her and saw her smiling back from behind the pillow. Dean moved over her body to reach the pillow and get it away. They maintained eye contact for what appeared an eternity to them but was only about ten seconds in real life. They haven't been looking at each other so happily for a long time.
Dean got up but stayed on bed, being on his knees. His hand reached for her and anticipated her following suit. When she got up, looking at him the whole time, he got his hands on her body and moved them up under her T-shirt. Now even that T-shirt gave up protection from her being naked. Dean ruthlessly took it off her. Her hands came down on his body, settling on his nicely shaped butt. Dean tilted his head to be able to reach her neck and kiss it. He was making her ecstatic again. He got closer and the gap between their bodies disappeared. She felt his manhood on her belly and the anticipation vibrated through her. Although she could feel he was hard, she deliberately sneaked her hand inside his boxers to get a better feel. Yes, he was pretty hard. Of course; it's been a very long time.
Renee pulled down the boxers and released the mighty snake. She got her hands on it and started stroking it while Dean still had his lips occupied with kissing her neck. But of course he was aware of what she was doing. Showing her care and interest. She cupped his balls and then pressed her body even closer.
That was enough for him. He left her neck alone and looked her dead in the eye. He grinned. Then he looked down at his erected cock. The boxers became redundant a while ago but now it was definitely time for them to go. When her eyes became the object of his interest again, they sent him encouragement. After ridding himself of the underwear, Dean licked his lips in a deep desire that was about to be fulfilled. He got his hands on her hips and pulled her toward him rather arrogantly. His penis pressing against her, he let her know he was not going to be gentle. Or was he? That loving look and genuine smile confused her.
And then he turned her around and made her go on all four. He got behind her, and after a quick testing of her arousal with his fingers, he rammed his cock into her pussy. He heard a gasp. Loud moaning followed, and the pillow came in handy again. Dean wasted no time in being gentle, but it was clear that Renee didn't ask for gentle anyway. He continued with the hard thrusts as his hands reached to grab her tits. Then one hand let go and moved across her naked body, down her stomach, until it found itself between her thighs and searching for her clitoris. It didn't take long for his finger to start circle around the sweet spot, causing her to scream out in ecstasy. Dean quickened the thrusting, knowing neither of them would last long. In fact, it took only a couple more thrusts until he shot his load inside her and her body started shaking in uncontrollable frenzy.
As he searched for something to wipe his dick off, she lay face down on the bed, her breathing making only slow progress in getting back to normal. After putting on his boxers, Dean lay down next to her, wrapped her arms around her, and whispered, "I missed that." He kissed her neck. There was a blanket nearby that he grabbed to put over her so that she wouldn't be cold. As his arm was reaching for it, Renee noticed and followed the movement of his arm with her sight until his hand was tucking the edge of the blanket under her. She ruined his whole effort when she turned around. Her hand found his. Her eyes found his. Her lips found his.
None of them felt guilty. There were plenty of reasons to regret what they just did, but they couldn't feel that way. They felt happy, satisfied, but in no way guilty. This was their life, after all. They were adults, and nobody could tell them what to do. So what if they did something not quite right? So what if they did not follow the protocol?
"I really came here just to talk," Dean said. "But," he added, "this was better."
She smiled and subsequently their lips connected again.
"But in regard to, you know, that conversation we never had, I need to say one thing. . . . Don't keep any secrets from me, please. Just make that one promise, okay?"
She nodded hesitantly, but the seriousness of her expression made him believe she wouldn't hide anything from him in the future.
"I promise you the same thing. No more lies, no more secrets." He felt her hand gripping his tightly. "But I guess it would be alright if we together kept secrets from other people. . . . Like this one." Before his lips touched the tip of her nose with the intention to plant a kiss there, she closed her eyes. Dean caressed her cheek before getting up and leaving her alone on the bed.
There were clothes all over the room, but Dean helpfully picked up both his and hers and placed everything on the bed. He put on his pants and just as he was pulling the shirt over his head, he heard her moving on the bed. She was looking at him now, appreciating that her clothes were next to her but not really caring about covering her nakedness with anything other than the blanket.
"I better go now," Dean said. Despite letting out those words, he remained standing next to the bed, with his eyes fixated on her. It took another minute for him to be able to let go of the sight of her and her silhouette under the blanket.
He walked slowly, without confidence that was typical for him, and he stopped before stretching his arm to grab the handle. In a moment of weakness, he turned around to see her one more time. Thee blanket was away and she was sitting there in her underwear and a T-shirt. The pants and bra were still aside, as were the socks. Her legs were partly crossed, her hands on the bed, ready at any moment to jump up and run toward him.
Seeing her half-naked body, he was getting hungry for her again. But he should go if he indeed wanted this to stay their dirty little secret. Turn around, he ordered himself. Stop staring at her and leave! Except he couldn't. "Tell me to leave," he asked for her help.
"Stay."
"What?" It's been forever since he heard her voice, and he stopped believing she would speak in his presence.
"Let's talk. Let's come clean."
"Okay." Dean walked over to her, hesitant about what was going to happen. Maybe it would have been better if he left right after the reconciliation, but he had to face the uncertain. Even if it were to result in hatred, it was the right time for them to talk to each other.
He sat down and waited. Who was supposed to begin talking?
"I was supposed to tell you," said Renee. "You were meant to be the first one to know. I'm sorry."
"So . . . what . . . how did you . . .?"
Dean's questions did not set the direction for their conversation so she chose to start somewhat at the beginning. "I never really knew I was pregnant. There were so many things going on, I was busy, stressed out . . . I didn't notice. I was oblivious to the signs." She paused. "Even more after the break-up. But then came the miscarriage and . . . it started to make sense."
Dean timidly opened his mouth and asked, "Was it my fault? Because I . . .?"
"No. No!" She took his hand into hers. "Those things happen." He nodded. "And hey," she made him look at her, "those things I said – or wrote – to you on Valentine's Day, I didn't really mean them. I was mad at you. I don't want you to think that I wouldn't want to have a baby with you. . . . Well," she hesitated. "It's kind of strange to talk about it. We've never really talked about having kids. I mean, at least not seriously. Anyway, I just want you to know that it was really stupid of me to say things like I'm glad that there are no complications."
"So how do you really feel about it?"
"I don't know. I wasn't ready to face that situation. It caught me unprepared. You know, on the one hand, I am glad I'm not pregnant, because of the timing and . . . well, there are other things on my mind now than having a baby, but on the other hand . . ." She stopped talking. "It's difficult to deal with what happened. You know?"
Dean's expression did not make her believe he understood.
"You want me to be honest?" he asked.
"Yes."
"I don't know how to deal with it. I don't know what I'm supposed to do in this situation. I'm . . . I . . ." Dean sighed. "I really don't know. I feel . . . I feel like I'm betraying you because I can't make myself imagine that situation. It feels strange and . . ." He lowered his head, embarrassed for feeling the way he did. "Impersonal. Like it's not really happening to me. Like none of that is real." He looked away, angry at himself for having those feelings . . . or lack of them. "I'm sorry, Renee. I don't want you to think that I'm immature, insensitive, that I'm not ready for this stuff."
"Dean, it's okay."
"How is it okay if I don't even get emotional when I find out I could have become a father?"
Renee reacted with a reserved smile. "I did get emotional. And I hated myself for that. I was asking myself, why am I crying when there's nothing to cry about? I never knew I was pregnant, I never wanted to have the baby so why am I sad when I find out I lost it?"
"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you."
"You didn't know."
"True, but it was not supposed to be like that. We should have been together."
Renee looked away and then back at him a second later. "Imagine it this way. We are together, happy, I find out I'm pregnant, I tell you, we get excited about having a baby, and then I lose the baby. What if we couldn't get over it? What if we ended up breaking up because of it?"
"I guess then we'd be where we are now."
"No," Renee said and shook her head. "I can't really explain it, but it'd be different. Our relationship, our break-up, our relationship after we broke up, it would all revolve around it. This way it doesn't. The break-up and the miscarriage are two separate things. So is our relationship. I know that lately I made you think otherwise, but the way it happened made it possible for us to work things out. . . . Or I'm just hopelessly trying to justify it. I don't know."
"What should we do?"
"Get over it. Forget. Or at least not dwell on it."
"Alright."
"Now it's time for you to do some explaining."
"Yeah," he sighed and chuckled at the same time. "It's stupid."
"Prioritizing your career?"
"Yeah. I don't know, I never seriously thought about it until . . . until that day."
They were looking at their hands, their fingers playing with one another. It was nice to feel the closeness of the other person, even if nothing was how it was supposed to be.
"You know, when I came to the company, I set myself certain goals. And now I started to feel I'm getting myself distracted with . . ."
"Me?"
"It sounds horrible." He let go of her hand and adjusted his position on the bed. "But I've always put everything into wrestling. It was the only thing that mattered to me, the only thing I cared about. And that way, with dedication, effort, I got where I am now. I got into The Shield, and we'd owned the place. Then I returned to my singles career, and it felt great . . . but I realized it could be better. I thought that maybe I wasn't putting everything into it anymore."
"And you thought I was the reason."
"I've always had one plan. I know I don't plan," he added hastily, "but there was this one plan that I've had since long time ago. Get to the top. Become the champion, become the face of the company, become one of the greatest of all time. And then I could do all those other things like get married, start a family." Dean looked away and then at Renee again, straight into her eyes, and grabbed her hand to grip it tightly. "And then you appeared and ruined everything." The smile that was on his face and the caring tone he used saying it made it clear it wasn't supposed to be an accusation but more like a compliment. "You made me question what I wanted in life. Whether long unforgettable title reign was what really mattered."
"How come you never told me this? And how come I never noticed anything?"
"You wouldn't want to hear me talking about my questioning our relationship. I wasn't, anyway. Not once have I considered ending our relationship before actually doing it. The thing was, most of the time it wasn't a problem because I was happy. Only at those moments when I saw others achieving what I aimed for, I started asking whether I was doing something wrong. Why am I not where others are? Reaching for that top championship . . . But in the end, yeah, you can say it was an abrupt decision. I guess it just occurred to me in that moment that breaking up with you could be a solution. I could fully focus on my career again, give it all, and become the top star."
"And then?" Renee asked.
"Then . . ." Dean sighed. He was aware how it would sound if he said that then they could get back together. That would get her mad instantly. "Then I'd realize what a huge mistake I've made. Actually, I'm realizing it already."
"If you had the chance to take it back or make that decision again?"
Dean chose not to answer the question directly. "I've fucked up. But let me try to work on it. I don't want to make the same mistake ever again, and if I had the chance to go back in time and undo what I've done, there's a chance I'd do it later. Maybe I wasn't really as mature as I thought. But one thing remains the same. I do want to become the champion. Even if it's stupid of me to say, and maybe I don't really mean it, but I want to be better than Roman and Seth. Because honestly, it feels like a competition to me. It is about who wins, who was the best part of The Shield, and right now I'm on the losing end. I want to do something about it. And, in a way, I still think that to win this, I need to give 100%. But that doesn't mean you mean nothing to me, Renee."
She nodded, trying to understand.
"You can't imagine how I miss you. Not only as a lover but as a friend, too. I wish we could hang out, talk, or just fool around. But most of all, I wish you were there with me when I win that championship. I wish I could go back into the backstage with the belt over my shoulder, see you there cheering with other people, smiling, and I wish I could just come over to you and kiss you."
Dean wasn't really looking at her whilst saying those things, maybe because he felt embarrassed, stupid for saying it or stupid for ruining his chance to have it that way. She placed her hand on his cheek and stroked it. He looked at her and saw that the distance between them was diminishing. And then he felt her lips brushing against his, and answered to her request for a kiss.
Twenty seconds later, when their lips parted, she looked at him again and said, "You should have told me. We could have worked it out."
"Yeah, maybe you're right. But what if we –"
Renee shushed him before he'd get to say what he had on his mind. "It doesn't really matter, does it? The important thing is that we've talked about those things. Finally."
"You wouldn't believe how happy I am you're talking to me again," admitted Dean, with his hands covering hers.
She was watching his palm, her fingers in it, but he was watching her. This way he noticed the sudden emergence of a smile and the moment she looked at him.
"This isn't over, is it?"
"I hope not," Dean responded.
"But we broke up."
"Yeah."
"And I'm in a relationship."
"Yeah."
"I've just cheated."
"And I'm sure you will again if you keep being in a relationship."
Renee shook her head, smiling. "You are a complication. Can you imagine how much simpler my life would be without you?"
"But can you really imagine your life without me?"
"I hate you, Dean," she whispered before leaning for a kiss. "Now leave before someone sees you."
