EPOV
I'm full of clichés tonight. One useless expression after the next flies off of my tongue before I can stop them.
A drunk man's words are a sober man's thoughts.
Houston, we have a problem.
A chain is only as strong as its weakest link.
A mistake made more than once is a decision.
Decisions.
I stop where I am on the boardwalk, my feet sliding against the sand left from the day's use. The moon shines just enough so I can see its reflection bounce on top of the water and for the moment, it's the only thing keeping me company on this impromptu walk I embarked on a little while ago.
It may not be wise, this latest decision of mine to stray from my group this late at night at the bar, but since I'm currently questioning every decision I've made recently, it seems pretty accurate for my life as of late to make yet another questionable decision.
As I move to place a foot up on the wooden beam of the rails along the boardwalk, and I miss, I realize that I definitely had reached my limit for the night. Fuck, I had passed my limit a couple of beers ago but I had been hell bent on finding out if I could solve all of my problems at the bottom of a beer bottle.
So far? No solutions. Just more problems.
Okay, maybe not more problems. Just the same, simple, one problem that has never been a problem at all until today.
Bella.
And I'm not sure how to fix it. How can I fix it if I don't even know where to begin?
Maybe it was the way that for the second time, she demanded control and took it, and me, completely by surprise. Maybe it was the way her tits felt beneath my fingers, filling and familiar in my hands like they were meant to be there. Maybe it was when she had propped herself up on her elbows just out of view of camera, the look on her face most likely mirroring mine.
We were lost.
In the moment, in each other, whatever it was. Something happened in that moment. Something changed. Snapped me into a weird world of confusion and hesitancy but also curiosity and addiction.
I take another swig of my drink in the soft breeze of the dark ocean air around me, and no, not that kind of addiction, but a different kind of addiction that may be even worse.
I was good, I tell myself with a regretful chuckle as I drop my head down to my chin. We were good.
We're still good.
But fuck, she looks so fucking good tonight that I can barely think straight.
And I'm lost again. Which sucks because I'm drunk and wasn't expecting to look at her like this. To think of her like this.
Leaving Bella's dorm earlier today after our second session for the camera, I was expecting to feel on top of the world – I had just gotten laid. What I wasn't expecting, only a handful of hours later was to feel like I was punched in the gut when I watched her pile into our Uber looking as hot as she did.
It's Saturday night, and with only a couple of weeks of our carefree days left before half of us enter the workforce, we all decided to head down to our favorite beach bar to unwind from the week. All of us were planning on going, plus a couple brothers from the house, so we had called an Uber to fit all nine of us or so. The Uber had gotten to the house and we piled in, heading over to the girl's dorm in a cloud of cologne and testosterone, and I think I'll always remember that brief car ride as the last time I was confident about anything in my life.
One drive across campus from my house to her dorm, and my life was now split in two parts. Life before problems, and now, life full of problems.
Again, just the one problem.
Newton had been the one to open the door for them as he was sitting on the seat next to the opening door on the side of the van, and when the door clicked into the locked position to allow for three more passengers, one look at the legs that entered my line of vision, and I knew it was her.
How did I know it? Because those legs are now imprinted into my memory. Because those exact legs were wrapped around me earlier today. I know how they feel beneath my hands. I know how they look when a pair of lacy underwear slides down them into a pile on the floor.
It was my first thought when I had seen her.
The worst part is that it didn't stop there.
My thoughts kept coming.
When she sat next to Newton in the Uber for the rest of the way to the bar, I found myself suddenly pissed at a fellow brother – who did nothing other than have an empty seat next to him. It wasn't like they had never met before; they had hung out countless times in our years here at school. The only difference was that before now, before tonight, I never noticed how perfectly Bella filled out that dark blue tank top she was wearing, and an even more of a glaring difference is that I don't have to imagine what she looks like beneath the fabric. I know what that tanned, bare skin feels like beneath my hands, against my own bare skin, and I squelch away the desire to switch seats with Mike mid drive over to the bar.
I decided that shooting him daggers behind his back from my seat behind him would suffice.
Later, when she took a shot with Alice and Rose, tilting her head back in unison with the other girls, I saw exposed skin, that tiny little spot where her throat ended and her chest began, untouched by my lips or tongue, and I had tilted my own bottle back in hopes I would be able to taste something similar to what I imagined she would taste like.
Another shot for when I thought about what other parts, and not just her neck, tasted like.
We weren't even doing anything special tonight, really. We were all sitting at a high top table, at a bar we frequent at least once a week, if not twice, and all of us were just enjoying each other's company. No dancing, no live band, just all of us laughing at each other like always.
Nothing different than the countless times before.
Except this time, when Bella throws her head back in laughter and her long hair falls in loose beachy waves down her back, I remember how it felt wrapped around my hand from our first session as I took her from behind.
Another bottle to help me figure out how this unraveled so quickly.
Only two sessions in and I can't even look at her without thinking of different ways I want to have her next.
I forget how many bottles from the bartender later but I think I've found the answer – sex two times in two days after a few weeks without any action at all has turned me into a fiend desperate for my next fix.
I've become addicted to the sex. Not Bella. Just the sex.
And the only way to cure it is one more time with Bella and then it's back to the business at hand. Sex for money and nothing else.
That was the thought that led me here, to the dark and empty boardwalk down the road from the bar, with sand beneath my feet, my thoughts just as unpredictable as the waves in front of me.
I jump from thought to thought like a trapeze artist – a drunken trapeze artist, I may add, as I stumble down from my post on the rail.
This won't work if I can't look at one of best friends without thinking about fucking her – even though I already have, and will again.
I'm confusing myself. Let me try it again.
This won't work if I don't remember why we're doing this in the first place. This won't work if I let my eagerness for pussy misconstrue every little thing Bella does into something more than what it really is. I can't be the weakest link here in this situation.
I can't let my decision to do this with Bella become a mistake.
A mistake made more than once is a decision.
That's the expression that lingers in my mind, comes back around with every swig of the bottle, with every lap of the wave on the ocean shore. Even in my haze, I still know the rules to our proposition, even if we've already bent them a little.
And in the car on the way home, this time I make sure fucking Newton is nowhere near her when I sit in the seat next to her in the Uber. I slide my arm against the top of the bench seat we're sitting on, my hand slipping down between her and Alice sitting next to her. The ends of her hair just graze my fingertips, and I discreetly, or at least as discreetly as my drunken mind thinks I am, curl my finger against the silky ends.
Even though I downed far more than she did at the bar, I know she's reached her limit as well. Even though I'm way beyond my own, and she's right at hers, I look over at her, and those brown eyes are looking at me the same way they did earlier today before we had fallen backwards onto her bed, and it makes me want to bend those fucking rules a little more.
"Diner?" Emmett asks into the Uber to no one in particular but most of us agree with him. Nothing like greasy food from the diner on campus to soak up some of the alcohol. Even I could smell us within the confines of the car, myself being one of the main causes of said smell. Instead, I shake my head and lean my head back against the headrest.
"Nah, man." I reply, my words coming out looser than I intend. "I gotta do some editing."
Slip of the rules number two. For those keeping track. Bella earlier with her idea of breaking the set recording schedule, and me now, indirectly talking about our proposition in front of others. Sure, they don't know what exactly it is I plan on editing but we agreed not to plant any seeds for anyone to connect the dots.
Bella's head pops up from where she rests it on my shoulder and I watch her droopy eyes find and connect with mine. I pull a little harder on those little wisps of hair touching my fingertips. Her eyes leave mine for a moment and flash down to my mouth before Rose's voice interrupts whatever is happening.
"Editing?" Rose slurs her question. "You can't even keep your head up."
"I need to," I stress, my eyes closed again as our ride inches closer to campus. I feel Bella's head resume its place back onto my shoulder, her body nestling deeper into my side. Her leg touching mine has me wanting to do more than editing.
"It's two in the morning. What sounds better: editing or a cheesesteak?" Emmett asks the car again.
"Editing," Bella says at the same time everyone around us says, "Cheesesteak."
Once the decision has been made, our Uber drops us off in front of the diner, but I turn and stumble my way back to my room. With Jasper at the diner stuffing his face, I use this time to do what I wanted to do since Bella stepped into the Uber earlier tonight.
I pull up our video from today.
I don't edit it at first.
I'm too busy taking my dick out of my pants to even think about anything other than letting it all go for now, dying to relieve myself in a way that's been aching for hours, let alone edit anything.
There's a part of me that hates that I'm doing this, that knows that it's wrong and I should stop.
But I can't.
I see Bella appear on my screen, and I lose myself to her on my laptop screen and the sounds she's making reverberating through my earbuds.
My first stroke is to the sound she makes when I first enter her. It's only happened twice but I don't need the soundtrack playing in my ears to remember what she sounds like, that soft breathy whimper that makes me want to do things to her the exact opposite of soft.
My second stroke leaves my hand with tiny droplets of moisture before I bring it down for a third stroke, my eyes watching my laptop screen as I disappear completely inside of her, slide almost all the way out again, before slamming back into her.
I watch Bella beneath me on her back. I watch my hands slide up her body to palm those tits that I'm dying to taste. Another stroke when I think about what those pink and taut nipples would feel like beneath my tongue, against my mouth.
I watch on my screen the part that's been playing in my mind all day. The part where she sits up, momentarily forgetting about the phone in my hand, and even though her face isn't visible on my screen right now, I pump faster as I remember her face from memory. Her bottom lip clenched between her teeth to suppress her voice, even though little whimpers escape from her chest with every thrust from me above.
For the third time in two days, I lose myself in the moment, and even though I told myself back at the bar that I would get a better handle on all of this, right now I forget about it and focus on what's happening now.
What's happening now is that I'm working myself into a maddening pace, so maddening that I'm gripping the desk in front of me like my life depends on it, my other hand guiding me into a release that comes upon me so fast that with a groan into my empty, dark room, I spill out onto my hand and wherever the fuck else; I'm too busy falling apart to care about anything else.
Eventually, once I've collected myself enough to remove the rest of my clothes, I slip beneath my covers and reach over for my phone. Tired, sated, drunk as fuck, I have no business posting or editing or anything else I've done, but I have one more thing to do before I refocus myself in the morning, reminding myself that pursuing our proposition into something more is not an option. Not now, not ever.
Edited. Sent.
Only two words but my eyes are growing heavy. I don't expect her to respond but maybe she will. Maybe she's still awake. A part of me that I didn't know exists hopes she is.
A few minutes later, she responds.
Fuck.
I know that fuck. It's the fuck I've been saying since we started this whole thing. It's the fuck that reminds me that this only started two fucking days ago and I need more. It's the fuck I say when I see us and think of us or see her with new eyes. It's the fuck I say when I start to realize how truly fucked I am, the feeling of uncertainty trickling in like a receding tide. It's the fuck I say after I come in my hands, wondering if I can make it until our next session on Thursday, like I can't get enough.
She sends another right after.
Post it.
-ptp-
Unlike last Sunday, I don't wake up craving the waves or the sun. In fact, I barely wake up at all. Sleeping off a hangover seems like the right way to go, and if I'm lucky, I can sleep away all these zigzagged thoughts I've had about Bella over the past few days.
I sit up in bed, running my hands over my face and eyes in an attempt to wipe away any evidence of last night's disaster. I take one look at the time, groan when I see that I've slept most of the morning and some of the afternoon away, and flop back down onto my pillows. At this point, all I want to do is stay exactly where I am, buried under my blankets to block out the sun and everything else intrusive, but I know what I really need is a mad dose of pain relievers and a beer.
Hair of the dog.
I also need to add some more to my portfolio for my internship requirements due by the end of the semester. I have a paper to write for the night class I have with Bella. There's an exam for that class that I have to study for, too.
Most importantly, I know I need to talk to Bella. Not about how all of a sudden Thursday's have become my new favorite day of the week, but just to remind her, actually both of us, that sticking to the rules of the proposition is going to be key to making this work. We knew going into this that things had the possibility to become messy. Blurred. That's why we made these rules in the first place – to remind us that even though the power of sex and money can be addicting, it has the potential to destroy.
To be honest, I didn't expect this all to come at me like a tidal wave. I had imagined, briefly, that if this situation were to happen, it would be gradual. Like a storm over sea that you watch from your balcony, giving time to prepare for the storm to make landfall.
So instead of being proactive, I'm being reactive. I'm in disaster mode trying to salvage what I can before anything becomes too damaged to be fixed.
"You plan on moving today?" Jasper asks from his bed on the other side of the room. He's not buried under the covers like I am. He at least has his laptop and a textbook open working on some school shit.
I answer him with my face planted firmly into my pillows. "Not if I can help it."
"You got shit to do?"
"Fuck. Yeah," I groan, attempting to sit up again to spy a pile of work to finish on my desk.
Laughing, Jasper closes his laptop. "Alright well I'm heading to the beach later if you finish and want to meet up."
Once Jasper leaves, I head into the shower to wake myself up for what's left of the day and everything I have to do. Working on my portfolio is something I've enjoyed doing this semester, and it shows with every update. I have two more weeks until I have to turn it in, and with each week it becomes more of a professional testament than the last. My dad always told me to find a job that I love doing so it wouldn't feel like work, and it's something that I remember each week when I see how it's all coming together.
Once I'm satisfied with this week's addition to my portfolio, I save it and close the lid on my laptop, eager to be done with work for the day. I put off the paper for my night class, figuring I'd make time during the week to get it done before it's due, and text everyone to see where they are. The girls ended up at the beach earlier in the day, so I hitch a ride with Jasper and Emmett to join them. Not up for surfing today, I leave my board behind and steady myself for the next thing on my list for today.
Bella.
She's sitting in a beach chair with her face to the sky when we find them on the beach, the golden sun painting her skin a flaming ember in the four o'clock sun. Her eyes are hidden by a pair of dark sunglasses, her brown hair pulled up into a knot on the top of her head. She looks messy, beach battered by the sun and sand, and I swallow a lump in my throat at the sight of her. Content, peaceful, maybe even sleeping in her chair, so much so that I try my hardest not to disturb her when I place my own chair next to hers.
"Took you long enough," she jokes and moves her beach bag to the other side of her so my chair can fit.
"I had some school shit to do," I say with a shrug. "You don't?"
"Oh, I do." Bella answers and then points out towards the turquoise ocean in front of us. "This seemed more important, though."
She has a point. I listen to the ocean waves as they calm me with each passing minute, unlike last night when their crashing sound against the shore churned up more than just sand and shells. I wait until we're alone on the beach in our chairs before I bring it up, and as I turn my head to speak to Bella, she beats me to it.
"Did you post it?"
I nod, digging my feet into the sand in front of me. Out of habit, I go to run my fingers through my hair only to remember that I had thrown on a black fitted hat. "Yeah, I did last night. Right after you told me to."
"Did you check it yet?" She asks, reaching over to grab a bottle of tanning oil from her bag. I'm grateful my eyes are hidden beneath my own pair of sunglasses as I try to tear them away from watching her spread the oil onto her skin.
"No, actually." I clear my throat and reach for a bottle of water to distract me. "I think we should only check it once a week. On Thursday's right before the next one."
Bella tips her sunglasses to the top of her head so I can better see how crazy she thinks I am based off of the look she's giving me. "A whole week?" She leans back into her chair and shakes her head. "You're talking about a certain amount of willpower that I'm not sure I have."
Truthfully, it sounds difficult even just thinking about not checking our stats for a whole week. But maybe that's the distance I need to get my head on straight.
"It's not exactly a week," I remind her, referring to the less than twenty four hours between our first and second videos. "We broke that rule, remember?"
"I know." I detect a hint of regret in her voice. "I'm sorry."
"What are you apologizing for?" I ask with a laugh, tossing a small pile of sand onto her recently oiled leg with my foot. She rubs it off with her own foot before tossing another pile back at me.
"It was my idea to do another one," Bella admits, continuing. "I just got a little caught up, I guess."
I think back to her fuck in her message the night before. Drunken Edward thought maybe she was getting the lines blurred too, but sober Edward hadn't thought of that since the early hours of the morning when I was adding images of Bella to my spank bank. Her words now bring it all back.
"Caught up in what?"
If her answer is similar to mine, similar to what I've been feeling the past two days, then I'm not sure where to go from here.
"All of it," she answers, shrugging her shoulders and looking out towards the water. "Worried that none of this would work. Excited that maybe it could."
"It may not work," I remind her. "I think we need to acknowledge that that could be a real possibility."
"I know." Bella says, slapping her hands against the arms of her beach chair as if she is infused with a new purpose. "I should probably have a backup plan."
"It's not a bad idea." I finish off the water I had and reach into the cooler for a beer to dim the edges of my still present hangover. "Do you have any though? Ideas?"
She hesitates before answering with a sigh. "I'll have to ask my mom. She thinks she can buy her way into a relationship with me anyway, so she'd happily loan me the money."
"At a high cost." I know how much asking Bella's mom would kill her but it may give her some peace of mind to know she has that as an option if it comes down to it.
"Extremely." She exhales in defeat. "But I'll do it if I have to."
"You know what else I think you should do?" I know I brought it up already but I want to stress it to her again to put her a little more at ease. "Don't look at the traffic counts or the bank account. You'll drive yourself crazy that way."
"Just on Thursday's?" She repeats and I can hear the doubt in her voice. "I need to be able to track something. To make sure it's not all for nothing."
"I don't think it's for nothing," I joke and nudge her knee with my own. "Pretty sure you're getting something out of it." Pictures and videos can be deceiving but I remember how she felt around me when she came, how her face contorted in waves of pleasure, the way she sounded when she tried to muffle the volume of the noise she tried to stifle.
"And you're not?" She laughs, too. "I'm not surprised, though. That's our thing. We always end up having fun, no matter what."
We sit in contemplative silence for a couple of minutes, small smiles playing on our lips as we think about the friendship that led us here in the first place.
"I like this type of fun," I say, running my hand along the back of my neck in slight embarrassment. Bella and I have always been honest and open with each other so it would feel strange if I keep what I'm feeling from her. She doesn't need to know everything. Just enough to let her know we'll be okay. I tell her this so I can convince her, and more importantly, to convince myself.
She smiles back at me and offers me a fist bump. "But I need to stick to the rules. I get it."
"Not just you," I add, returning the fist bump with fervor. "I broke some rules last night, too. Talking about it in front of other people in the Uber."
"You weren't as obvious as you thought," she says with a shake of her head, "I mean, I knew what you were talking about but everyone else thought you were just doing your normal editing for school or work or something."
"Good, but still, I was a rule breaker. Forgive me?"
She takes this time to lower her chair into an almost completely horizontal position. It offers me a fantastic view of everything I've been trying to put out of my mind. I hope to God she forgives me for breaking rules and for eyeing every inch of her next to me now on the beach, hopefully beneath the darkness of my sunglasses.
"Forgiven."
Tides are changing, folks! Make sure to wear your lifejackets.