Endless Bonds

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Well, that was epic, to say the least. I straddle Trent on his coach's desk, my head on his shoulder and my breath embarrassingly borderline heavy. And maybe a bit stupid.

I was supposed to have a few days to myself to think – to dwell on the last few months and see how to move past it all.

Pierre was my safety net. I can't jump from one relationship to another and make Trent my next safety net because he deserves so much better than that. And, I want to be that better.

He deserves that, does he not?

Which is why I haven't text him. I cut off all communication with him so I could get into the right mind set.

I'd been with Pierre for quite some time and, to be honest, he was my longest relationship. I had to remind myself what it was like to be alone. Truly alone. Not alone in Vancouver with a fiancé strapped in Paris kind of alone.

I needed to be the kind of alone that was me, myself and I.

Because a strong, independent woman like myself knew how to truly be alone, right?

I just don't want to be alone anymore. I want to be with Trent.

But I still need a few days before we can turn things official.

I have exams and reports due and I need to channel my focus on that. Not my asshat of an ex or my currently best-friend-turned-hot-flame.

And, of course, all my avoidance game went to crap when I saw Trent in the flesh. Thanks a fuck ton, raging hormones.

Life called bullshit on me. Here I was, my jaw sore and my hair tangled after a hot oral-sexcapade with Trenton 'Panty-Melting' Reynolds.

I'm not a prude; I like sex and I like it rough – apparently. But never in a million years would I have considered myself an exhibitionist.

Honestly, the thought that Trent and I could get caught while I'd sucked down those inches? Super hot.

Even hotter was how he'd looked down at my face with a mixture of reverence and pain, fucking my mouth while he held my head in place. Never done that and I'm looking forward to doing it again.

My makeup is probably ruined but I don't care that I might be looking like a clown.

Because Trent is looking at me like I'm the utmost perfect thing to ever grace this earth.

"So that was a really good game you played." I rub his chest affectionately, over his hoodie. Conversation is good after a blowjob. Yeah. Real good.

"Hmm. You think so?" he humors me, too.

His inhale nearly lifts me up. "Yeah. Kind of makes me wish I came to more of them."

"Yeah?" He's breathing a little ragged. "Wish you came more, too."

I've always loved watching him play. Football was nice and all but something about Trent's passion for the game – not to mention his broad shoulders fit for climbing and aggressiveness on the field – always made watching better. Something about him on the field was plain HOT. "Me, too. Let's set a schedule – you make me cum four times a week and I make you cum three times a week. That way we're busy cuming seven days a week."

"You think you're funny?" he laughs. "Silly girl."

I know it's stupid. Maybe giving blowjobs makes me lose brain cells. I don't know. But I keep on laughing for a while until my own stupid joke isn't funny.

"You good there, baby?"

I smile into his chest and nod. I'm better than good. I'm great. I kiss his heart over the fabric of his hoodie. "Hmm."

I feel his chuckle vibrate against me. "Good. That's good, Hermosa."

"What does that mean?" I ask him, kissing his jaw and feeling a few day's worth of growth against my lips. Trent never spoke much Spanish around me or his house, now that I think of it.

"Beautiful." He cups my chin and tilts my face up to his so I can stare into his blue eyes – so alive and vivid. "It means beautiful."

Trent kisses me then, melding our mouths together in a slow and sweet conquest. My heart beats fast, as if it's pulsating only for him. The effect he has on me is insane – a piece of my chest moves around and makes room for him.

I mold my hands to his face, pushing my tongue against his lips and demanding entrance. Telling him with my kiss that my heart has always had space for him. There's a little bit there that's labelled Trenton Reynolds and always beats just for him – No one else.

"You're beautiful," I tease him. It's true. This guy is so beautiful inside and out.

His puff of breath stutters over my mouth and he bites my bottom lip, tugging. "Yeah, baby?"

"Yeah."

"Your face is a mess, by the way."

"Whose fault is that?"

"Yours." He places soft kisses down my neck. "You wanted me to fuck your mouth. I did. Quit your bitching, Cher."

I stick my tongue out and he tries to tickle me.

My legs, which were bound tightly around his waist, loosen and I almost fall.

He catches me, of course. But, just for shits and giggles, Trent pretends to drop me, and I yelp. His boyish laughter carries out in the darkness – I love it.

"Like that's not going to get us caught!" I shriek, laughing, the blood rushing to my face.

He pretends to toss me in the air as he rises. He catches me again, our mutual laughter filling the office.

Trent kisses me again, messy and sloppy and I love that, too.

He lowers me to the ground after a moment, still glued to my mouth.

I pull away with reluctance. Pressing my palm to his chest, because honesty is the best policy, I say, "Trent, I'm sorry I didn't text you. If we're being real with each other, I still need a few days to get my head together."

His body almost violently jerks away from me. I don't let that deter my resolve. I claw for his hoodie to hold him in place so he can see that there is no uncertainty in my eyes. Only him. Just a bit of time. "Please, Trent. This is not me saying no."

"Fine," he speaks through gritted teeth. Looking anything but fine.

Not being able to resist, I peck his lips a couple of time. As gentle as a feather. "Thank you."

The tough mask crumbles, unable to resist me, I know. He smiles tenderly as he brushes the skin under my eyes and near my mouth. I almost want to cry. "Let's try to make ourselves look presentable, eh?"

"Hmm."

* * *

I definitely don't look presentable when we step outside into the hallway. Trent's gear bag is still there on the floor where he left it.

"You thirsty?" he asks, his arm curved around my shoulders.

Every word out of his mouth sounds dirty. I'm tempting to tell him I already drank but he'll roll his eyes and maybe laugh. Then again, I kind of want to hear him laugh some more.

Before I can make an inappropriate joke, Tara spots us.

She steps out of the locker room with damp hair and an equally sexed, tall football player. Aka Calvin.

"Hi," she says, folding her arms across her chest. "What are you guys still doing here?"

Trent arches an eyebrow. "Can ask you the same question, babe."

Calvin smirks but doesn't say much. Clearly, we know what Tara and Calvin were doing in the locker rooms. She has no shame. Actually, we don't have shame either.

"We – uh – Trent forgot his bag, so we came back for it," I supply lamely.

"Are you okay?" Calvin suddenly addresses me, his frown all over my face.

"Um, what?"

"Your face," Tara pipes up, cocking her head to the side and studying me more closely than her fuck-buddy. "Your mascara is smeared and your lips...Well, let's just say you look like Ronald McDonald."

Calvin snorts and I flip Tara the finger. Trent's the only one who looks angry on my behalf.

"Don't say that about her," he hisses.

Tara instantly gives me a look. "Someone's defensive. It was just a question."

Trent makes a frustrated sound in the back of his throat. "Tara –"

"Why are we still discussing my resemblance to a clown. Shouldn't we be meeting the others at Danny's right now?"

* * *

It's been two days since I've last seen Trent. We've kept communication to a minimum. He's respecting my decision because, he, too, is quite busy. We send each other one snapchat every day to make up for it.

I have a paper in two days for which I'm nearly done the first body paragraph when a knock echoes against our dorm room.

I cock an eyebrow at Sara, who's sitting on the bed next to me procrastinating with her laptop. "Did you invite someone?"

She shakes her head. "Jared and I are over, remember?"

"I meant a friend, girl." Then again, the only person who'd pass by this late is Jared.

When I get up to glance through the peephole, the blood drains from my face. My heart falls to my stomach, clamoring for an anchor.

I feel a mixture of relief and dread when I swing open the door.

The girl before me resembles a shell of who she used to be. "Teagan," I whisper, as if she's a mirage who'll evaporate any second.

She swallows, as if unsure of how to reply. Her tired eyes gleam under the hallway light. "Hey, Cher. I'm sorry to drop by like this. I just landed in the city and I had the inexplicable urge to see one of my friends. Tara was busy...and I distinctly remember her telling me this is where you are now."

Emotions have gripped my vocal cords, and I can't speak. We're standing so close, yet it feels like there are still miles separating us.

She shifts awkwardly. "Its been awhile, eh?"

My eyes sting and my throat dries up. "Yeah. Something like two years, Tee?"

"I don't know. Feels much longer." Her lips tremble before they pull into a wobbly grin. "Kind of lost my watch somewhere between here and Boston two years ago. Ever since then I've been giving my time to crappy people it seems. I'm here wondering if I can fix that. Want to grab a bite? I'm hoping I haven't burned too many bridges?"

With a cry, I lunge for her.

She hugs me back just as fiercely.

"How are you?" I choke out.

"Better now that I'm here."

* * *

We find ourselves a cozy table away from prying eyes at Le Petit Moulin, Teagan's cousin's cafe.

Elsie just brought us a variety of new macaroons she's created and some raspberry tea. Basically, enough sugar intake to last me a week.

Teagan's face is drawn and so are her shoulders. I notice the girl before me and compare her to the one in high school. While her appearance has remained the same - except for the fact that she's colored her dark hair blond - there's a world weariness to her that taints the carefree, confident Teagan Manning from Eastwood high.

The one who did whatever she wanted and didn't give a fuck what anyone thought.

Maybe everyone's opinions finally caught up to her.

I don't say a word; I want her to break the silence.

She's staring at her reflection in the window, but it seems like she's not registering any of it. Her mind has wandered somewhere far away.

Tee's always been a tall girl but right now, bundled up in a body hugging scarf, with dark eyebags and hair a mess, she looks much smaller than me.

"Remember in high school when it was just us?"

I pause my hand mid-air, my teacup hovering an inch away from my mouth. "Yeah."

She shakes her head, a wry smile curving her mouth. "No - I meant you and I. It used to always feel like it was Tara and Natalie, and then there was you and I. Rose well...That's another story."

Rose...Trent...I try not to cringe. But its true, while Tara always had Natalie, Teagan and I used to whisper our secrets to one another. Our friendship was more subdued - not like Tara and Nat who were joined at the hip.

"I'm sorry I was a bad friend these last two years, Cher," she murmurs. "I'm sorry I was selfishly wrapped in my own world – in Harvard and my boyfriend – that I never bothered reaching out to you."

I reach forward to clasp her hand, my expression twisting. "Oh, no. Teagan, please. You don't have to apologize. Trust me. I haven't been that good of a friend either. I disappeared these last two years, favoring my life in Paris. Ever since I've gotten back, I realized I messed up big. I mean, at least you still came down for Quent's funeral."

She nods. "I wouldn't have missed that for the world."

Well, I certainly did. I try not to ponder over the past, so I keep quiet. Instead, I chose to gently stroke the back of her hands with my fingers.

"Tee, what happened to you?" I ask her softly. "I want to say you're tired from your flight but its more than that, isn't it? You're completely disheveled."

I may not have seen her in two years and only conversed with her briefly through text, but I'm not an idiot. Teagan was never this unkempt.

She takes a sip of her tea before raising her exhausted gaze to mine. "This is the second time I've been in Vancouver in the last two months."

I'm shocked. "Why didn't you call or reach out then? I don't understand."

She swallows again in the same way that states she's having difficulty expressing her thoughts. Such a one-eighty from the witty Teagan I remember.

"I came back five weeks ago because I had to get an abortion."

The haunted words drift in the space between us, like a passing dark cloud.

Oh, my God.

"Tee...I don't know what to say." Struggling, I reach forward with both hands to grab hers. "Are you all right?"

Her eyes water as she reciprocates my touch. "I'm okay. Fine now."

My heart is breaking. "Please tell me what happened. Of course, only if you can talk about it."

She shakes her head. For a moment, I think she'll say no, but then she speaks up. "An ex-boyfriend got me pregnant. I didn't want a baby so I got rid of it. The end."

I know that's not all of it. She's hiding something. Teagan loves children. Growing up together, we all thought she'd be the first to get married, settle down and have babies. She'd always craved stability and a big family. But right now, I sense she's vulnerable and ripping into her to get the truth will only cause her to retreat further.

"Tell me, Teagan. Why are you here now - I'm not mad - just asking. Visiting family or..."

"Family? She snorts "What family do I have, Cher?"

I say nothing because I know her parents all but disowned her when they found out that her and our gym teacher from high school, conveniently a family friend of theirs, had been fucking.

"I came to see you guys," she says. "And because I'm leaving Harvard. I'm moving back to Vancouver."

This is all a lot to take in. Nervously, I shove a few macaroons in my mouth then finally ask, "Tee - why? From what I hear you love it there. Shit you're on the honor roll, aren't you?"

She opens her mouth to answer then decides against it. Her brown eyes skirt over to the window again where she stares at her reflection.

Sad. Defeated.

But some type of force suddenly draws life back into my friend because her eyes widen, her shoulders rise and color slowly pinkens her cheeks.

I look over to see what's got her attention.

There, planted on the sidewalk, looking through the window, as ashen as ever is Oliver.

My friends continue to stare at each other as if the world revolves only around them.

Oliver looks like he's seen a ghost. His car keys clatter to the ground and the hand holding his coffee cup trembles a little. Teagan says nothing, her lips parting slightly as she drinks in his appearance through the glass barrier.

The spell suddenly broken, Oliver breaks eye contact and collides his hard gaze with mine for a brief second. Before I know it, he's walking away towards his car.

"Oliver is still kind of –" I start, but Teagan interrupts me.

Gulping, she says, "Can we talk about something else? For instance, you. Catch me up on whatever I've missed. Please. Just not Oliver."

With a deep breath, I give her the distraction she wants. "So, I was kind of engaged..."

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