You have been thoroughly warned.
If you are squeamish about colorful language, don't like sex scenes, and honest dialogue makes your hair curl, walk away now. Do not read this.
I'll be posting installments every day until the end. I don't know how many days that will be because I am still writing this story. You can read it or not, share it or not, like it or not. It's up to you. Unlike me, you have a choice. I can't not write it.
As You Were
Copyright © 2013 by Melissa Lummis
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the above author of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
“I bet she’d love it if you reached out,” Erik soothed. “I know she would. I, uh, actually talked to her this morning. Told her where I was and uh,” he hesitated. “Shit.” He slumped back in the chair, throwing an arm over his head, leaving me sitting half on his lap and wiping angrily at my stupid leaky eyes.
“What?” I reached for my soda and chugged the last third. I burped. It was Erik, after all. He’d seen and heard much worse from me. When he didn’t answer, I nudged his shoulder. “What?” I demanded.
“One more confession.” He dropped his arm, meeting my gaze with a guilty twist to his mouth.
“What the heck, Erik?” I was starting to imagine all kinds of things. Had he met up with her recently? Were they getting back together? Then why the hell had he been doing what he’d been doing with me earlier? I smacked his arm. “What?” I barked. “You better start talking because—“
“I knew you were coming here. That’s why I’m here.”
The ocean rushed in my ears. The smell of salt and sea filled my nose. “What are you saying? I thought you were here with some of your Air Force buddies.”
“I am, but,” he sat up, sliding me between his legs and wrapping his arms around me as if he anticipated me making a run for it. I stiffened in his arms. He rested his chin on my shoulder. “Don’t get mad but I called your mom. She told me you were here, who you were with.”
I relaxed a fraction. “So, you followed me here?” There were worse things he could have done. Like trying to sleep with me when he was seeing my ex-best friend. Then I tensed up again. “Did she tell you about me and Jack?”
What kind of show was he putting on back there on the beach telling me to end it with Jack when he already—
“No, she didn’t say thing one about that. I asked her if this was your last hurrah before getting married and she said ‘Something like that.’” Erik kissed my shoulder, clasping his hands under my unrestrained breasts. Oh, sheesh. I felt a warm flush race up my throat and over my cheeks. I’d never put my bra back on.
“Something like that,” I repeated in a monotone. So like my mom. She didn’t want any drama in her life, and her daughter calling off her wedding two months before was definitely drama.
“Anne Marie Williams,” she’d reprimanded when I told her what had happened, just like when I was nine years old and had gotten into her makeup bag. “Marriage is not a game. When you make a commitment, it’s sacred. You don’t just walk away at the first hint of trouble. Marriage takes work. It’s not a romance novel with dresses falling off shoulders and men who’ve lost their shirts.”
I laughed out loud and Erik lifted his head. “What’s so funny?”
I snort-giggled, patting him on the arm. “At least you haven’t lost your shirt.”
“What the hell are talking about?” He gently bonked his head against mine, like he used to do when we were partying too much and I was getting loopy. “You’re not making sense, Anne the Man.”
I laughed harder, falling against him. “It’s just…” I lost my breath as I clutched at his T-shirt. “My mom said…” More painful laughter. “It’s not a, ahahahahahhaha!” I couldn’t even make the sounds anymore. I was silently laughing my guts up, my stomach clenching in painful spasms.