Nothing Matters (Family Matters Book 1) (17 page)

And it occurred to me that maybe the night hadn't been a total failure after all.

MAGDALA

There was something about Flynn that made me smile.  It's like he was so cute, so shy, always so awkward, that he made me feel strong, empowered, courageous.  He was exactly the tonic I needed.  I noticed he was braver by text, than in real person.  Sometimes it seemed he couldn't find the right words to say, or was too embarrassed to say anything.  On our first movie date I thought he might kiss me, but he didn't even try to.  On our second date we didn't actually do anything, we just hung out at the mall, walked along the beach to the carpark.  Maybe you wouldn't even call it a date.  On our third date we went to the beach, up the coast a little.  He said he didn't surf, but he was happy to watch me.  I packed a picnic, well some bananas, donuts, granola bars and chips.  I'd taken to wearing my wetsuit when surfing now, ever since It happened.  In my bikini you could see my scar, too obvious, ugly, repulsive.  If you saw it you would wonder how I got it.  I didn't want anyone to wonder or know that.  I would wear board shorts or wetsuits forevermore. 

He queried me wearing a wetsuit, it was a hot day.  I mumbled something about it being a second skin, streamlined, better aerodynamics in the waves.  He seemed impressed.  He was wearing board shorts and a T-shirt.  He had a tube bandage on his arm.  He'd told me the story about his arm, but I'd never seen it exposed.  It had been surprising to find out Dr Surridge adopted him.  I felt this inner bond with him, knowing that Dr Surridge had been the only one I'd connected with too.  Seemed liked we were kindred spirits in a way.  Though of course I couldn't tell him that.  Why he thought I'd even been at the hospital I didn't know; he never asked, I never offered.  At first he came into the water with me, and we splashed around.  Then he went off to the sand, and told me he'd watch me, to take my time.  The waves weren't the greatest, so I only stayed out about half an hour.  I wanted to go and lie next to him, and talk.  Plus I was feeling hungry.  He rushed down to me when he saw me approaching, and carried my board for me.  Such a gentleman I thought.  He was shirtless, and he didn't have his bandage on.  It had gotten wet and it was laid out to dry on the cooler bag we'd brought.  His scars were worse than I imagined, not that I grossed out easily.  But the skin texture was rough, uneven, making my scars seem like nothing.  He tried to sit on my right side, I notice he always tries to, but I plonked myself down on his right, and opened up the food basket.  I gave him a choice and he took a donut, so I did too.  He opened us both a can of soda.  He held the can between his knees to do it.  There didn't seem to be anything he couldn't do without a hand, though I assumed maybe holding a knife and fork.  He passed me the can, and I reached for his arm. 

He immediately tried to apologize, but I said, "Don't.  Can I touch it?"  He rested it on his knee and I stroked it, running my fingers along it.  "Does it hurt?"  I asked.  He shook his head.  In that moment, I felt like I wanted to show him my scars, to tell him we were more alike than he knew, but I said nothing.  I unzipped my wetsuit, and took my arms out, but just unrolled it down to my waist.  I had my bikini top on underneath, my hair was loose, and I brought it forward to cover the scar on my neck. 

"Are you going to take it off?" he asked, referring to the wetsuit.  I think he was meaning he'd look away if I was. 

"No, I might go back out later," I said quickly.  "Do you want sunscreen?" I asked, opening the tube.  "On your back?" You'd think I'd offered him a blow job or something.  He grinned like it was Christmas.  I momentarily thought of Nathan, and not because of Christmas.  I shut the thought down and Flynn laid on his tummy and I rubbed it over him.  He had a few spots on his back, nothing much.  I massaged it in as best I could.

"Can you do me?" I asked, thinking that came out wrong, but he made no comment, and gently rubbed the lotion over my back, avoiding my bikini straps.  I liked it, the softness of his touch, so light, delicate as if he was afraid he'd hurt me. We laid down, both of us on our sides, looking at each other, our faces less than a foot apart.  A breeze was blowing, warm, but cooling, it blew at his hair and my hand randomly reached out, pushing a stray bit back from his eyes.  He smiled, his full pink lips, his light blue eyes pulling me in.  I wriggled myself a tad closer. His eyes didn't leave mine.  His left arm, his good one stroked the back of my hair.  I wondered if we'd be able to kiss lying at this angle.  I wanted him to initiate it.  I smiled, but he seemed hesitant.  I moved my face closer, the rest of my body following.  Then slowly his mouth moved towards me and our lips met.  Gentle, tender, perfect.  He pulled back and looked at me, as if he wanted to say something, get permission, or approval, and then we both came forward again, together.  And that was our first kiss.

I told Flynn that I was going away for the summer, that my Aunt had arranged for Cassian and I to go with them to Mexico and then we were cruising, and then I said that I usually visited my mother in Hawaii.  He said his family were going away in the middle of July, vacationing  in Colorado, so he seemed disappointed that we would be apart for more than a month.  At our next date our intensity ramped up, we sat in my car kissing for some time.  It's like an urgency entered our relationship. 

I drive to Flynn's place, we have plans to go to a movie.  It's our fifth date, strange that I'm counting.  He gets me a juice and we sit out by the pool, he says his parents have gone out for dinner and a show, his brother Sam is out and his sister Emmalee is on a sleepover.  It's means we're not going to be interrupted.  A shiver gives me goosebumps, a mild panic embraces me, but strangely also an air of anticipation.  I'm thinking, If I make love again, I'd like it to be with Flynn.  With Flynn I feel safe, I feel warm, I don't feel threatened, I don't feel the weight of expectation. I'm wondering if he'll suggest it.  He looks at the time, says we'd have to rush to make it to the screening, but neither of us move.  He asks if we should just hang out here.  I shrug, nod, smile, say, "Why not?"

I know Flynn's a virgin.  He hasn't actually spoken those words out loud, but he's insinuated it.  He may have assumed I'm not, I don't know.  He knows I've had two boyfriends, but I never expanded on the relationships, so he has no idea what sort of experience I have.  And he knows nothing about the rape, of that I'm sure.  And he doesn't need to know, of that I'm sure.

We finish our drinks and we go to his room.  He only has a single bed, with a red and grey striped cover.  He has pictures of English and European soccer teams on his wall, he's soccer mad.  Like Nathan was basketball mad, I think to myself.  Why has Nathan suddenly popped into my head?  I don't want him there.

We sit on the bed and kiss.  He sits to my right, as always.  We lay down, still kissing, the room quiet.  We stop and he sits up, puts on some music from his phone, takes off his shoes.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

I nod, realizing I'm as nervous as he is.  I kick off my shoes too, we lie back down again, resume kissing.  Then he pulls away, gets up and adjusts the blinds, making the room darker.  Good, I think, he won't see my scars.

He comes back to me, his voice is soft, "Do you want to?"

I nod, "Yep."  And I realize I do.  I want this.  I want this so I can erase the memory of the rape.  I want a new memory, and I want it to be Flynn, gentle, tender, innocent Flynn. He takes his jeans off, so I squirm out of mine as well, pulling up the cover as I do so, suddenly shy, and self conscious.  He kisses me, says he loves me.  It's the first time he's said it.

"I love you too," I reply, otherwise why else would I be doing this, right? 

We awkwardly both remove our underwear, another thought skims through my mind of how quickly Nathan could remove mine, almost before I knew what was happening.  I block it out, don't want him inside my head.  Flynn's ready, he moves on top of me, his lips still searching mine, he guides himself inside me, I use my hand to help, opening my legs a little wider, testing out the flexibility of the scar.  It seems fine.   I close my eyes, keep them closed, focus on my breathing.  Our bodies move together, carefully, steadily, then builds up, up, up.  I open my eyes, wanting to see him, wanting to know it's real, it's happening.  He doesn't make a lot of noise, a quiet moan escapes his lips as he relaxes himself down on me and I feel an exhalation of air warm my cheek.  I close, then open my eyes to find him smiling, a look of satisfaction, a look of contentment.  I smile back.  I'm thinking, I did it, we did it, as if it is a cure for all my ailments.  But I feel a small twinge of guilt, that I've used Flynn, used him to help me put the past in the past, used him so that I can now try to move on.

I use the bathroom, tidying myself up, and a thought comes to me:  we didn't use a condom.  I had the contraceptive rod removed after the rape, insistent I'd never need it again.  But surely the odds of falling pregnant after one time are minute, tiny, and I convince myself that it's the wrong time of the month anyway, my period finished only a week ago, or maybe two.

Flynn hugs me when I get back, says he loves me again, kisses me, his right arm touching my back.  He pulls it away as if he suddenly remembers what he's doing.

"It's okay," I say and place it back where it was.

"I love you," he says again, and it feels right, it feels like it should feel when you're in love, and the pain seeps away, and everything is okay.

FLYNN

Magdala's timing was perfect.  She arrived at my place minutes after Mom, Dad and Emmalee had left to go the market, their cars probably passed in the street.  They'd be gone at least an hour, hopefully more.  I let her in, kissed her, braveness now a new quality.  No longer did I blush and flush in her presence, our relationship had moved into a new zone. 

"You seem happy," she said.

"I am," I replied.  "We unexpectedly have the place to ourselves..."

"What are you suggesting?" she teased.

"A visit to my room?" I flirted back.  "Interested?"

Our first time, a week ago, had changed me.  My status from virgin to non-virgin was like a load lifted, like I'd passed a particular milestone in life, much like learning to walk, saying your first word, learning to ride a bike.  It was like pride, even though no one but Magdala knew about it.  Even James hadn't been told.  That's how I wanted it, an intimacy between the two of us.  Neither Mom nor Dad even knew I'd been dating Magdala.  I hadn't purposefully not told them, it's just the timing or need had never arisen.  Though it was probable they would meet her today, as I'd invited her over, originally for a swim and to hang out, but now, maybe more.

I started to kiss her as soon as we closed the door.  My room was a mess, the bed not made, yesterday's clothes still on the floor.  She didn't seem to notice.  I released her, only to straighten the cover and pillows, then I brought her down with me, my good hand all over her.

"Mmmm, you're in a hurry," she remarked, as I attempted to pull her t-shirt over her head.

"Who knows how long the parents will be," I said with a laugh, kissing along her neck.  She had a scar on one side, quite long, quite new looking I'd say.  I wondered if she'd been in a car crash.  Maybe that's why she had been in hospital.  Now didn't seem the right time to ask about it.

"Do you need help with these?" she asked, running her hands over my jeans, not waiting for an answer, unbuttoning, unzipping me.  She pulled them down, a struggle to get them over my feet.  Somehow I was the one laying on my back.  She reached into my underwear, slid them down, freeing my cock.  Her hand rubbed it, up and down.  I murmured.

"What was that?" she asked, a twinkle in her eye.  My blush returned.  "Did you say something?" she persisted.  I shook my head.  "You want me to...?"  She didn't finish the sentence, just lowered her head, and took me in her mouth.  Just like that.  She'd done it before, that much was obvious, but as her tongue teased and tantalized, I thought of nothing but self control.  And I groaned. 

"What was that?" she asked again, a wickedness in her eyes now.  "You like?"

"Oh shit," I said.

"Wanna come inside?" she asked, and I chuckled at her tone, her casualness to it.  Her shorts came down and she laid herself against me and we rolled over so I was on top.  She bent her knees, letting me in.  I feared I wouldn't last long.  We moved together, it felt so good, so much better than the first time.  She wrapped one leg around me, I pumped again, going deeper.  Fuck, it felt good, and still I was in control.  I steadied myself.  She was looking at me, smiling.  I kissed her, then continued thrusting. Her fingers clung to my back, her body arched with mine as I knew I was reaching my climax.  That involuntary groan again, so primal, so uncharacteristic of me. 

"Oh shit," I cried, loathing my uncouthness, wishing I'd been more romantic.  I settled to the side of her, there wasn't a lot of room on my bed.  "I love you," I said, the grin felt permanent on my face.  "You're the best thing that ever happened to me."

She smiled, but seemed to ponder that thought.  "I think maybe your Mom was the best thing," she said unexpectedly.

"Second best?" I asked cheekily, feeling like I was invincible, on a high.

She kissed my lips, "Yeah, I'll take second best." 

We laid there for awhile, like not wanting to lose the moment, and then there was the sound of a car, and we leapt up, never moving so quickly.  We hurriedly dressed, I just pulled on some shorts, my jeans were still half inside out, and the t-shirt I picked off the floor was from yesterday.  I scooted down the hallway, Magdala close on my heels.  I grabbed a couple of boxes of juice from the fridge, opened the sliding door out to the pool and we both collapsed on chairs around the table, our hearts racing.  We looked at each other and laughed.  Seconds later Mom, Dad and Emmalee appeared, three faces looking through the glass door like we were animals in a zoo.