Waiting For Me(R)
Bobby is my best friend and I've always loved him, but like a brother and not a boyfriend. That's why we've never had sex although I know that's what he's been fantasizing about for years.
Bobby's always been there for me when I've been in trouble, or sad and lonely, or in need of a favor. That's how I ended up living in his house. Poor Bobby is an orphan now. His Dad died when we were kids and cancer took his mom last year, leaving him the house.
Bobby and I had no business being friends. I grew up in the snazzy Hilltop neighborhood with expensive homes. My parents were all about money, status, reputation and image. Bobby grew up in the flats section of Hillsboro, the son of working parents and then a single mom who worked for the Town Water Department.
My parents drove new BMWs, Bobby's mom drove a ten year old mini-van. My parents belonged to the County Club, Bobby's mom belonged to the PTA. We went on vacations to Europe and the Caribbean, Bobby's idea of a vacation was a day at Sun Rise Lake.
Bobby and I were in the same class but we really had nothing in common. I was too smart for my own good, spoiled and self-centered and I used my family name and position to get what I wanted. Bobby was barely noticed, extremely quiet, and did little besides play sports to stand out among his peers.
The only reason we became friends is because one day in sixth grade a rabid dog came onto the school playground and he looked like he was going to attack me up against the fence but then Bobby came out of nowhere and literally tackled the dog, stopping him from causing me harm (I really thought the mutt was going to rip my face off). How could I not like Bobby after he saved me so heroically like that!?
My parents, of course, didn't want me hanging around with a boy from the flats. I was supposed to be friends with the other status kids, the country club kids, the kids who could afford to fly to Aspen for Christmas. But I was rebelling from my parents and other authority figures even in sixth grade and I didn't care what my parents thought of Bobby – he was my friend.
Bobby stayed my friend even when I ignored him, used him, betrayed him, and hurt him. There were times when I did mean things to him, like leave him in the cafeteria to go sit with the cool kids, or stand him up for pizza to go out with some guy, or make fun of him in front of my superficial friends.
"That's okay, Angie," he would say calmly. "I'll wait for you."
Bobby went to every one of my dance recitals and chorus performances but I could care less about his sports and I rarely went to any of his games. Even when I did I was usually with some guy and we'd leave early. Bobby was my stand by, my something to do with when I had nothing else to do, the guy I'd be with when there wasn't another guy around, but I could only play Monopoly and Scrabble so many times before I was ready to cut my throat from boredom.
I was drinking by the time I was fourteen and I lost my virginity to some preppy from the Sun Rise Lake School For Boys when I was fifteen. I found dangerous older guys to hang out and rebel with. My parents threatened to send me away to some private girl's school somewhere but I knew they wouldn't.
Bobby had no interest in most of my extracurricular activities yet he was patient with me even as I acted out in the worse ways.
"I'll wait for you," he'd say whenever I did something horrible to him (or myself). "I don't think you should be waiting for me," I'd warn Bobby, knowing that I was bad news no matter how much I needed Bobby in my life.
Bobby didn't date much in high school although he hung around with some of the girls who were athletes. I liked it when he was with somebody because then I didn't have to feel quite as guilty when I was with someone too.
"I'm still waiting for you," he'd tease when I asked him why he wasn't dating some of the jock girls.
I was going to frat house parties at Green College when I was sixteen (that's when I got a brand new BMW sports car of my own) and I was sleeping with the thirty-seven year old golf pro at the country club by the time I was seventeen.
I knew Bobby didn't approve of my behaviors but he never gave up on me and he always accepted me for who I was no matter what I did. When I was in the dumps, or recovering from some awful incident with some jerk guy, Bobby was my willing go-to guy, the one person I could trust, the one guy who would take care of me and believe in me. The one guy who always waited for me.
I left Hillsboro after high school to see the world and all that jazz. I went to college for a couple of years to placate my parents but I dropped out to travel, met people, experienced life, and generally have a good time. Bobby, meanwhile, stayed home and went to Blue County Community College. Now he works as a delivery guy for Greenville Appliances, certainly not a glamour job but he's still the same Bobby I've adored all these years.
Whenever we'd talk on the phone after I left Hillsboro, I'd ask Bobby if he was with somebody - sometimes he was but it always seemed by the next phone call that he wasn't with that person any more.
"I'm waiting for you," he'd remind me.
"You shouldn't be waiting for me, Bobby," I'd tell him, not sure why he would want to anyway.
The thing about Bobby is that he always supports me, trusts me, believes in me, and respects me no matter what, always standing by me and defending me even in my worse moments and after some of my most terrible behaviors.
I was gone for a long time but there was always the phone, or e-mail, or texting for Bobby and me to stay in contact and bonded. That's another thing about Bobby – I could go six months without a check in but the moment I picked up the phone or responded to an e-mail, it was as if we had just talked the day before. I know that no matter what's going on in my life, Bobby is always there for me.
One of the reasons I didn't go back to Hillsboro was because my parents weren't happy with my life choices and unlike Bobby they weren't unconditional in their love and acceptance. They gave me a hard time about what I was doing, where I was, and who I was with so I broke off contact to avoid the hassle. I love them dearly but if they can't accept me for who I am and what I want to do, I don't want to hear their grief.
I remember one of the last things my father said to me at the end of a difficult and uncomfortable phone conversation a few years ago: "You'll come groveling back when you're thirty."
His remark really pissed me off and I vowed never to give him the satisfaction of me showing up at his door.
I'd been living in LA for nearly a year with a guy but the relationship soured and I realized it was time for me to move on (or back). The relationship was a mistake from the beginning and Bobby kept telling me to leave the guy but it took me months to save up enough money to come home. Bobby wired me a couple of hundred bucks after I had a knock down fight with the guy and I honestly thought he was going to throw me through the window of our seventh floor apartment so I was glad to finally get out of there.
Bobby didn't ask any questions. He picked me up at the train station and brought me to his house for a safe respite until I got my life together again. That was three months ago and since then I've gotten a job as a waitress at Johnny C's Diner and sort of reconciled with my parents although they're definitely not happy with my choices which is why I didn't move back into their house. I have much more freedom and independence living under Bobby's roof because he lets me be me.
It's the same as it's always been between Bobby and me. We know everything about each other and we are the best of friends. I know I've used him in the past and I'm probably using him now but we've always had an understanding, even if it is kind of one sided in my favor.
It's not that I don't love the guy, but Bobby's still kind of boring and set in his ways whereas I'm more of a free spirit. I still like to party and explore and experiment and try new things. Bobby's idea of excitement is taking in a Serguci League baseball game down at Beano Field! I know I've gotten myself into trouble more than once with my outgoing lifestyle and lively personality but that's just the way I am.
Bobby's not the most confident guy I've ever met and he gets hung up on stupid stuff whereas I'm the type to forget about it and move on. He'll beat himself up for a week if he was rude to some jerk in a restaurant whereas I don't give a shit what people think of me – I'm my own person.
Anyway, it's been fun living in the same house with Bobby although we have separate rooms. He let me move into his mom's old room while he kept his old familiar childhood room. We share the chores and cooking when we're home together but I pretty much come and go as I please. Bobby doesn't really go out all that much unless it's with me for a beer or something anyway. He never asks me about my intimate life and I don't volunteer much. It was always like that between us, even back in high school when I was with some guy. Bobby accepted it and it didn't come between us as friends.
Bobby works with a guy named Jeff. They played together in the Serguci League for a few years (that's a local amateur baseball league that plays at Beano Field). Bobby quit playing after college while Jeff lasted a few more years until he fractured his neck in a motorcycle accident.
I really don't understand why Bobby and Jeff hang out because Jeff is loud and obnoxious while Bobby is reserved and quiet. Jeff is opinionated and cocky, demonstrative and flirty. He started hitting on me the day I moved into Bobby's house (even though he's dating a chick named Casey) and while it's clear to anybody with a pulse that Bobby is crazy about me Jeff doesn't seem to care about the unspoken rule regarding putting the moves on your pal's gal (even though I'm not exactly Bobby's gal).
Jeff is too much like the endless array of guys from my past for me to take all that seriously (especially since he already has a girlfriend) although I like the attention and I flirt with him right back. I guess one of my fatal flaws has always been my attraction to loser troublemakers. I like to take risks and live on the edge and break the rules and it's obviously the reason why I'm always hooking up with guys I have no future with.
Jeff is definitely a hunk with muscled arms (from carrying all those appliances) and a gorgeous manly face – sandy blond hair, blue eyes, a sexy smile – but is that the kind of guy I want to seriously be serious about? Jeff isn't very bright and he's pretty self-centered but that doesn't stop me from goofing around with him in a bantering kind of way.
Sometimes I felt guilty about doing that when Bobby's around to overhear the sexual innuendos or witness the sexual attraction between Jeff and me but I figure I have a right to live my life as I please and Bobby just has to deal with it. I guess I take Bobby for granted figuring if he really cares about me he won't make a big deal out of my choices. I'm not sure if that's what Bobby bargained for when he let me move in but if he doesn't like it he can always ask me to leave, right?
Even though Jeff was a jerk and kind of stupid, even he wasn't oblivious to the situation between me and Bobby and that only made Jeff even more condescending and sarcastic when it came to Bobby. I was annoyed by how much Jeff talked about Bobby behind his back. I found that very disrespectful and immature. Jeff thought that Bobby was a bore and he complained about him being a 'by the rules guy' at work. Jeff was all for taking long routes on deliveries, milking break times, hanging around people's houses shooting the shit, and generally slacking off whenever he could while Bobby was much more conscientious about their responsibilities.
"So, what's the story with you two?" Jeff asked me more than once.
"We're friends," I'd reply.
"Oh yeah?" Jeff would laugh. "Does Bob know that?"
"What do you mean?"
"He acts like you're the Princess Bride or something."
"He does?" I asked, playing dumb.
"I've been hearing stories about you for years," Jeff told me. "Even when Bob was with some other broad, he was still talking about you."
I wasn't sure if I should be flattered or frightened by that revelation.
"He says he's waiting for you," Jeff remarked.
"Oh, that's just a silly private joke between us," I insisted.
"I don't think it's a joke for Bob," Jeff remarked.
Bobby's place hadn't changed that much from our childhood days so I talked him into letting me 'de-mom' it some so it didn't feel like she was going to step through the kitchen door with a tray of home baked chocolate chip cookies at any moment. I got rid of most of her knick knacks, took down some of the stupid paintings and other decorations from the walls, moved the furniture around, and stripped off some of the ugly old wallpaper and painted the walls with bright colors to liven the place up. I'm not sure how Bobby really feels about the changes but he rarely stands up to me about anything anyway.
I also got rid of everything in his mother's master bedroom and replaced it with Salvation Army and thrift shop stuff. I think Bobby was shocked when he came home and saw what I had done but there was just something weird about living in his mother's old room without making it different.
I came home from work one afternoon but Bobby wasn't around. Sometimes it feels weird to be there when Bobby isn't, like I'm a guest visitor in his house instead of living in my own place. No matter how many changes I've made, it's still Bobby's house.
I headed upstairs to take a nice refreshing relaxing hot shower after a long day at the diner. My parents hate that I work at Johnny C's – I was supposed to have my Master's and be working in some six figure job by now – and they never come in for a meal, not that they'd ever be caught dead in a diner in the first place.
I stripped naked in my (Bobby's mom's) room – I'm not shy about my body and I'm probably an exhibitionist at heart when I think about all the skinny dipping and other nude activities I've done in my life (none of them with Bobby strangely enough). I floated into the bathroom nude, turned on the shower and stepped into the tub to let the glorious water bounce off my body before lathering up to get rid of the smells from the diner.
I heard the door open and the sound of the toilet seat being lifted.
"Bobby?" I asked with surprise since he was always the gentleman who respected my privacy and gave me my space.
"Nope," someone said with a chuckle and I immediately recognized Jeff's voice.
"What are you doing in here?" I asked, pretending to act all shocked and horrified although I could really care less.
"Taking a piss," he replied and I could hear the sound of his urine flowing into the bowl even over the sound of the shower.
"Where's Bobby?" I asked from behind the shower curtain.
"Who cares?" Jeff laughed.
The shower curtain was pulled open and there Jeff was with a wide grin on his face staring at my naked body. I could have acted all girly and screamed in petrified protest but why fake it? I hardly reacted as I stood washing my hair, not caring what Jeff saw.
"Nice tits," Jeff smirked mischievously. How typically juvenile of him.
"Thanks," I replied with a sexy smile, foolishly playing along "Are you going to join me?"
Don't ask me why I so easily invited him into my shower. I've always been like that – looking for a good time, an easy lay, doing stuff I shouldn't be doing.
Jeff smiled as our eyes locked. "Sure," he said as he quickly stripped out of his clothes and stepped naked into the shower.
I looked at his impressive manhood with appreciation and then his lips were on mine and his hands were all over my body to finally cap the months of flirtation and innuendo. I gladly returned the sentiment, kissing him deeply while rustling my hands though his hair but even as I enjoyed the sexual pleasure I knew this wasn't right. Jeff had a girlfriend and I had Bobby, whatever that meant, and this was Bobby's house and maybe I shouldn't be naked with his friend and co-worker in the shower.
But Jeff was kissing me passionately and it was more than enjoyable. He was sucking my lips off and shoving his tongue down my throat and his hands were all over my boobs and ass and suddenly I was breathing heavily. I didn't want to fuck in the shower because that's where most home accidents take place, so I turned off the water, grabbed Jeff by the dick, and led him out of the shower.
"Jesus Christ!" Jeff wailed with pained surprise mixed with excitement.
I didn't bother toweling off as I led Jeff by the scrotum to my (Bobby's mom's) room, pulling him with me onto the bed as I fell onto my back and let him fall on top of me. I'm a very sensual and sexual person and I've always enjoyed sex. Jeff kissed me while one of his hands found my hair and the other my hip; his fingers grazing my pubic hair and I couldn't help but giggle.
Part of me didn't want to be doing this because I knew it was wrong. No matter how much I wanted to believe that I didn't have true romantic urges for Bobby, I couldn't deny the fact that I was somehow cheating on him by doing this with Jeff who was kissing me and fingering me. My hand found his dick and I began to rub it.
"Geez, you're not very shy, are you?" Jeff breathed, his face close to mine.
"You're the one who came into the bathroom," I pointed out. "What'd you think was going to happen?"
He smirked. "I was hoping this!"
"You don't have to talk," I told him. "Let's just fuck."
"Sure," he agreed and soon enough my cheap Salvation Army bed was squeaking beneath us as we humped.
I wrapped my legs around his back and kicked his ass with my heels as if I was riding a horse while my arms wrapped around his neck. I closed my eyes so I wouldn't have to look at Jeff's suddenly grotesque face as he made all sorts of frowns and squeezes exerting himself inside me and once again I asked myself why I was so quick to pork this guy (and so many others) even as I wanted nothing to do with the one man who truly loved me.
I felt the tears in my eyes as I realized how much I hated myself at the moment but the fantastic feeling of the fuck was too much to ignore so I began to moan and groan with my own guilty pleasure.
Jeff's panting in my ear annoyed me and even though I was the one letting him fuck me I lost respect for the guy knowing he shouldn't be doing this, as hypocritical as it was for me to be thinking that way. I thought of Bobby and wondered how he'd feel if he found out about this. Suddenly, I wanted to toss Jeff off of me but the sensation rushing through my electrified body was too great so I let him continue to pound me until there was an incredible release and I screamed out in joy.
I opened my eyes and smiled at Jeff even if I hated him. Sex is one of my biggest pleasures but I knew I was getting too old to fuck every guy I met.
"Thanks," I said, "That was great."
"Yeah," Jeff agreed as he rolled off of me.
"Maybe we shouldn't let Bobby know though," I couldn't help but say.
"Too late," Jeff laughed. "He's been downstairs the whole time!"
"What!?" I asked, horrified by the revelation. I had assumed Bobby wasn't in the house. "You bastard," I growled.
"What?" Jeff asked sarcastically. "First come first serve, right?"
"You're such an asshole," I said bitterly as I jumped off the bed and hurriedly threw some clothes on, feeling like a slut for doing what I had just done even though I had done it with my own free will and choice, as usual.
Jeff left the room naked to retrieve his clothes from the bathroom while I finished dressing in a panic. By the time I finished, Jeff had come out of the bathroom and he hopped down the stairs three at a time. I tried to hurry after him to make sure he didn't say anything to poor Bobby who was standing at the bottom of the stairs waiting for us. I felt like the worse person on the planet when I saw the look on Bobby's face.
"See ya, Man," Jeff said without a care in the world as he went out the front door.
I stopped about three steps from the bottom of the staircase and felt shutters go down my spine from the cold, hateful, hurting look Bobby was giving me. His face was red with both embarrassment and anger but he didn't say anything. I stared at him blankly, feeling shame and guilt but I knew then and there that I had lost him, maybe for good this time.
I had never performed any of my indiscretions when Bobby was around until now. I'm sure he heard the bed squeaking and me shrieking and Jeff moaning and I felt awful.
"Bobby….." I started to say but he turned without a word and walked out the door.
I burst into tears which was unusual because I'm pretty tough and indifferent when it comes to matters of sex. Why should I give a shit what Bobby felt or thought anyway? He didn't have a claim on me. I could do what I wanted, even if it was fucking his friend, right?
Bobby often told me that I had a hard time accepting right from wrong and that I was usually my own worse enemy when I got in trouble. He was right. It was often my fault for a lot of the stupid stuff in my life but I rarely took the blame for any of it. I just dismissed it as the price for doing what I wanted even if it meant hurting people. And now I had hurt the one person who really mattered to me.
Bobby didn't come home for days. After the second day, I went to Greenville Appliance but they told me Bobby had quit. As much as I didn't want to see Jeff ever again, I tracked him down in a bar. He was with his chick Casey so he had to play dumb about me. I fought the urge to tell Casey that her man had fucked me the other day. It was really none of my business what kind of relationship they had.
"Have you heard from Bobby?" I asked Jeff
"Nope," he replied with disinterest, not even bothering to look up at me.
"He quit his job?" I asked with disbelief.
'Yep," Jeff confirmed, his eyes fixed on his beer mug.
"Do you care?" I wondered.
"Nope," Jeff answered bluntly.
"You really are an asshole," I said.
"And you're a sleaze," Jeff replied.
I took Casey's beer glass and tossed the contents of it into Jeff's face before marching out of the bar. Jeff was totally right, of course, but I didn't have to listen to a creep like him insult me.
I felt like shit and I was really worried about Bobby. I knew he hated me for what I had done in his house of all places, with his friend of all people, and I thought about moving out in his absence, but I couldn't bring myself to go to my parents and there really wasn't any place else for me to go.
The house felt sadly empty and sometimes I sensed the presence of Bobby's mom around the rooms. She had been nice to me even though she knew I was all wrong for Bobby and that I treated him like shit half the time. It amazed me that both of them stuck by me through my immature and self-centered behaviors. I really was a rich bitch who got what she deserved which was why I was estranged from my parents, worked as a waitress in a diner, and was alone in the house of the one guy who really ever cared about me and whom I had finally chased away.
I hated myself more than ever. I had been acting out all my life and now I was paying the price for my selfish don't give a shit attitude. Was fucking a creep like Jeff really worth losing the only person who was important to me? I wanted to hurt myself for my inexcusable behavior so I went on a two day binge drinking sulk, missing work and spending half the time comatose and in a drunken fog.
Booze had always been my other weakness and alcohol had gotten me in just as much trouble as my poor taste in men and my easy temptation for sex. It was alcohol that usually led me to the wrong men in the first place. It was easy to get drunk trying to forget about that look on Bobby's face and to stay drunk.
It was totally dark when I heard the noise in my room. I had no idea what day it was or what time it was but I saw a figure standing in the doorway to my (Bobby's mom's) room. I wasn't sure if I was awake or dreaming, sober or hopelessly drunk, sane or completely crazy. I carefully sat up in the bed, trying not to feel dizzy even though my head was pounding.
"Bobby?" I asked tentatively.
"Why is the house trashed?" He asked.
"Where did you go?" I asked with worry.
"Are you drunk?" He sighed. His voice was exhausted and defeated.
"Not now," I realized. "But I was."
"Great," he moaned.
"Are you still mad at me?"
He didn't answer which said it all.
"Do you want me to leave?" I sighed.
"I want you to do a lot of things but since when do you listen to me?" He asked. "You always do what you want no matter what."
"I'm sorry," I said softly, knowing he was right.
"Are you?" He wondered.
"Where did you go?" I asked again.
"I needed to get away for a while," he answered.
"You quit your job," I said sadly.
"Yes," he said.
"Because of me," I sighed. "What are you going to do now?"
"I got a job at the candle place today," he replied. "Please don't sleep with anybody who works there, okay?"
"Bobby…" I tried not to cry.
"You don't have to say anything," he said, still standing in the shadows and I knew he was definitely not happy with me.
But I was glad he was back. I missed him, I was worried about him, and I felt horrible about what happened. I wondered if he missed me or if he thought about me when he was gone. Hell, I knew he thought about me – the real question now was what did he think of me?
A ton of uncertainty sat in my stomach like cement. I felt unsure, confused, and sad. Thoughts of what I had done flashed through my mind and I sighed bitterly, struggling to keep myself from bursting into tears.
"I'm done waiting for you," Bobby said. "I've been waiting since junior high for you to get whatever it was you needed to get out of your system but I've finally figured out that you're never going to be ready. You've been dating losers and psychos and creeps for fifteen years and it's pretty obvious you're not interested in growing up or getting serious about how you want to live your life. If fucking a guy like Jeff is what you're interested in doing, good luck to you."
"You can stay if you want." He said it so quietly that I barely heard him.
"Thank you," I whispered in reply.
I felt humiliated. I was shaking with regret and sorrow. Bobby was suddenly gone from the door frame and the house was eerily silent. I didn't feel forgiven as I glanced down at the bed self-consciously, feeling guilty for what I had done to our friendship.
In the morning I helped Bobby clean up the mess I had made in my drunkenness. There were beer cans and wine bottles all over the place, the kitchen was a mess, I spilled spaghetti sauce on the carpet, I apparently puked in the bathroom, and I broke a pitcher all over the kitchen floor, but the scary thing was I had no real memory of any of it. I must have really tied one on although I wasn't quite sure why I had gotten so drunk. Sleeping with Jeff wasn't even in my top ten of all time worse transgressions.
Bobby wouldn't talk to me and it was the first time he had ever given me the silent treatment. I couldn't blame him – I had trashed the house and fucked his friend, plus I got rid of his mother's stuff. I really did think the world revolved around me, didn't I?
I chewed on my lip, mad at myself for being so stupid and pathetic as we cleaned up the mess. I wanted to curl up in a ball and die and I almost wished Bobby would go off on me instead of silently and methodically cleaning up the house while ignoring me.
Bobby left for work at his new job without saying a word and I had to drag myself to Johnny C's Diner to see if I still had a job after missing my shifts.
Birdy Braft was the guy who owned Johnny C's and he was pretty good to work for. He probably saw how horrible I looked as soon as I walked through the door so he didn't give me a hard time, although he made me apologize to Kathy who covered my shifts while I was indisposed.
The days went on and there was an uncomfortable awkwardness between me and Bobby. We lived in the same house but we barely spoke to each other. He was clearly angry at me and not willing to forgive me and while part of me resented his attitude I also understood his hurt and sense of betrayal.
I worked some of Kathy's shifts to make it up to her and I stayed out a couple of nights, mostly because I couldn't face Bobby's unhappiness and misery but after a few evenings in the bar I realized that I was getting to old to be doing that routine every night. It was obvious that my life choices had finally caught up to me: I was a self-centered bitch who did what I wanted and now here I was nearly thirty with no career, no degree, no relationship, estranged from my family, waitressing at a diner, and living in the house of a guy who hated me.
It was up to me to do something about my situation but I wasn't sure what that was. I missed Bobby even though we lived in the same house and when I realized that most of my contemporaries were well into their careers, some married, many with kids, I knew I had wasted my opportunities.
I did what I had vowed I'd never do: I went to my father groveling, asking for his help so I could enroll at Green College and finish my degree. He didn't say 'told you so' but I could tell from the smug look on his face that I had finally hit bottom. My parents got me a car and I felt like I was sixteen again, although I resisted my mother's invitation to move home even though Bobby and I were miserable living together.
Six weeks had passed since my indiscretion and Bobby was still punishing me. Or maybe he was simply finally over me after twenty-five years. Maybe I had used him one time too many. Maybe I was mean to him one time too many. Maybe I thought of myself first one time too many. Maybe I let sex get in the way one time too many.
I tried to jump start our friendship several times but Bobby wasn't interested. He barely participated in small talk, he wouldn't engage me in a meaningful conversation, and we never did the things we used to do together – go out for pizza, watch movies on the DVD, take walks around the neighborhood. I was miserable.
One night I came home from working second shift at the diner after a few classes earlier that day. Bobby had already gone to bed and I stopped in front of his bedroom door when I went upstairs. I reached for the doorknob desperate to slap some sense into him and get him back but I hesitated, annoyed that I had to grovel to him too.
I knocked on the door with more anger than I meant to. "Bobby?" I practically yelled.
"What?" He said with surprise.
I opened the door and it was obvious that he had been asleep. He rubbed his eyes and peered at me with bewilderment.
"We need to talk," I said.
"What's there to talk about?"
I stayed in the doorframe. "Are you going to stay mad at me forever?" I demanded.
"I don't know," he admitted.
"I need to apologize to you but I can't if you won't let me," I said. "It's hard to ask forgiveness of someone who refuses to forgive you."
"You don't have to apologize to me," He mumbled, falling back on the bed. "You have the right to fuck whoever you want."
"Fuck you!" I screamed, kicking the door so hard it flew back and almost hit me in the face but I stuck my leg out to stop it.
I groaned and stepped into the familiar room. How ironic that I had been in Bobby's bedroom more often than any other man's bedroom. He looked up at me from underneath his covers, his face cast in the shadows of the night but he wouldn't look me in the eyes, instead glancing down at the floor.
"What do you want from me?" He sighed.
"Forgiveness," I begged. "I'm sorry," I added before he could say anything. "I'm sorry that you heard us. You must have been so disgusted. I had no idea you were here. I shouldn't have done what I did. I'm really sorry, Bobby."
"You don't owe me an explanation," he replied after a few moments. "You always do what you want."
"I'm also sorry for all the awful things I've done to you over the years," I said honestly. "I haven't been a very good friend, I know."
He didn't say anything and that made me feel even worse. He obviously agreed with my observation.
"Do you want me to leave?" I asked.
"Listen, it's none of my business what you do with your life," Bobby said quietly, his gaze still down at the floor and I knew he couldn't bring himself to look at me.
"I just want you to forgive me," I whispered.
"I don't know if I can," he admitted and I felt crushed.
"Why not?" I asked, wiping a tear from my eye as I sat down on the edge of his bed.
"Because," he said suddenly, his voice bitter. "You never wanted me."
I looked at him with surprise and I felt myself overcome with emotion.
"You have no problem fucking anybody besides me," he said bitterly. "I'm better for you than just about every guy you've ever been with and I waited for you but I'm done."
"We've been friends for as long as I can remember," I said. "I never saw you in the way I saw other guys."
"Lucky me," Bobby said sarcastically and I felt like I was going to cry.
"I don't want to lose you," I sobbed, knowing that was the most truthful thing of all.
"It's a little too late for that now, don't you think?" He asked with resentment.
"I never wanted to hurt you, Bobby," I told him.
"And yet you always did," he commented sadly.
I bit down on my cheek to stop from crying. "Do you not want me to leave?" I asked.
He shook his head no. "Isn't it pathetic that I still want you even after everything," he sighed. "That I'm still willing to wait for you!?"
"I just want to feel like we're kids again," I sobbed.
"I don't," Bobby replied quickly. "I don't want to have to start hurting all over again."
"I'd do it differently if I could," I blurted out.
"Oh yeah?" Bobby asked with interest. "Like how?"
Now it was my turn to look down at the floor while wringing my hands nervously in my lap. "I'd do better by you so I'd still be special to you," I mumbled embarrassedly.
Bobby slowly reached his hand up and gently touched my hair and I felt myself shudder. He had never made such a provocative move before and I closed my eyes to enjoy the welcomed sensation. I turned my head and looked at him as if maybe I was really seeing him for the first time. Although he looked like always did, I saw him differently now. He was handsome to me, attractive and appealing.
"You've always been a part of me," I assured him softly.
"And you me," he replied.
"You're the only one who understands me no matter what," I said.
"And yet you fucked Jeff," he sighed.
"I don't know why I did that," I confessed. "I wish I hadn't."
"I've always loved you," he told me. "That's why I waited for you."
"I know," I replied.
"But you could never love me," he sighed painfully.
"I've always loved you too," I said, finally acknowledging it for the first time out loud.
"Like a brother," he said, repeating my oft delivered line over the years.
"No, not like a brother," I confessed as I fell on top of him and kissed him smack on the lips for the first time ever.
Bobby's eyes went wide and my instincts told me this was okay. He was staring at me with stunned disbelief and I actually burst out laughing at his reaction.
"Why'd you do that for?" He asked with surprise.
"Because I wanted to," I giggled. "And as you say, I always do want I want."
"But why?" He needed to know.
"Because it's time," I whispered.
"Time?" he asked with confusion.
"Time to finally admit the truth and stop running from reality," I told him. "You can stop waiting for me finally. I want to make love to you."
"Angie," he sighed happily. "But not because you feel sorry for me," he hoped.
"I've never felt sorry for you," I assured him. "I've always felt sorry for me." "I've been trying so hard to finally get over you but I just can't," Bobby told me.
"I don't want you too," I said.
"I want to be with you always."
"I've always been yours," I said, swallowing hard. "I just didn't know it until now."
"Really?" He asked, his eyes full of water.
"You're the only one who gets me, the only person that I want to be with."
"Angie," he mumbled, his finger tracing my lip. "These last few months have been hell."
"I know," I sighed. "But maybe we needed to experience it to realize the truth about ourselves," I theorized.
"You're so beautiful," he told me.
"Even though I behave ugly sometimes," I sighed, staring into his eyes.
"I'd never expect you to be perfect, Angie," Bobby told me as his hand ran up the side of my ribcage.
I sucked in my breath and smiled. "I could never be perfect," I teased.
"Will you really make love to me?" He whispered while he caressed my skin underneath my shirt.
I nodded affirmatively.
"I've dreamt of this moment forever," Bobby said, his eyes filled with desperate want.
I put both my hands on the cheeks of his face. "I'm yours," I said with confidence.
We stared at one another before Bobby pressed his lips to mine. I opened my mouth and let his tongue enter my mouth as he continued to feel my skin under my shirt just under the bottom of my bra. I stopped kissing him just long enough to pull his shirt over his head and then I did the same with mine, tossing the bra aside too as I sat up on his thighs and he stared at my exposed breasts with amazement.
I leaned down and kissed him again while running my hands across his chest and down to his stomach while Bobby's hands were exploring my upper torso and cautiously brushing against my breasts. His hands then found their way to my back and he rubbed them along my spine as his mouth found mine again. I collapsed on top of him and let my breasts and nipples rub against his chest as I murmured with pleasure.
My hands found the waist band of the gym shorts he was wearing and I yanked them down in one swift motion to expose his rock hard penis for me to see for the first time. I smiled as I looked into his eyes and rubbed my hand along his cheek.
"Angie," Bobby moaned, putting his hands on either side of my hips.
I leaned my head down and kissed him. "I love you, Bobby," I whispered.
His fingers slipped inside the hem of my skirt and he gently caressed my skin. I unfastened the skirt and tossed it to the floor and I helped Bobby as he pulled my panties down, making sure they were free of my legs and now I was naked in front of Bobby for the first time.
"How I've wanted to see you like this for so long," he sighed.
"I'm glad you see me now," I replied happily, knowing he should have been the first one to see me all along.
"You're as beautiful as I imagined," he said and I kissed him as a thank you.
He ran his hands down my thighs to my wet spot and I gasped feeling him between my legs. I rocked my hips against him in rhythm as he reached behind me and rubbed my butt with appreciation. I reached my hand down and took his penis in my hand and Bobby physically shook with the contact as I wrapped my fingers around his shaft and slowly began to move my hand up and down.
"Oh Angie," he cried as he throbbed in my hand.
I rubbed my fingers along his erection while his hands went to my breasts and I arched back, letting him feel my boobs while my hand went up and down his erection and suddenly there was a burst as Bobby cried out and his semen came squirting out of his tip.
"I'm sorry," he wailed. "I couldn't help it."
"It's okay, Baby," I assured him, leaning down and licking his substance from his softening dick.
"I've wanted you for so long," he moaned. "I couldn't wait."
"We have all night," I assured him. "Don't worry."
"You've been with so many guys," He sighed with defeat. "What if I'm a disappointment?" He worried.
"You could never be a disappointment to me," I told him and that was the truth.
My unfortunate tryst with Jeff had taught me that it's not always about the sex. Love matters so much more. I collapsed on top of Bobby and kissed him on the lips while rubbing my breasts against his chest and grinding my groin into his softened penis.
Bobby groaned and wrapped his arms around my back, squeezing me tightly to him. I kissed him for reassurance and gently brushed my fingers through his hair.
"I love you," I whispered into his ear.
I sat up enough so my breast was aligned with his mouth and I let him suck on my nipple and then his hand moved down and he touched my sweet spot and I could feel how wet I was down there.
"Why do you look so perfect, Angie?" He wanted to know.
"I don't know," I whispered and I was surprised when one of his fingers entered me. "Oh, Bobby," I moaned happily.
He explored me for a few minutes with his finger and when I noticed that he had become hard again, I reached my hand down to his wrist and gently pulled his finger out of me.
"I want the real you in there," I whispered as I readjusted myself, sitting up and making sure my entrance lined up with his tool.
I helped guide him into me and he pushed himself inside. I purred contently and gripped his shoulders as I felt every inch of him inside of me. Bobby continued to push himself in and he made soft moans but his face looked peaceful, relaxed, calm and happy and I thought he was the most beautiful looking lover I ever had.
"You're doing great," I whispered happily.
Bobby was squeezing my breasts with each thrust and I felt his shaft slide in and out of me. I moaned with pleasure enjoying every moment and Bobby began to move faster which caused me to cry out with pleasure.
"Keep going," I begged. "You're doing great."
Bobby was pumping faster.
"Harder," I pleaded desperately.
Bobby took hold of my hips and pushed them down against him. I stiffened as I rode him as hard as I could, panting loudly as I got closer to my O.
"We're making love, Bobby!" I sobbed.
"Finally," he beamed.
"It feels so perfect and so right. I know it was always supposed to be you."
"Angie," he groaned.
"Bobby," I screamed as I felt the sudden release of sex inside of me.
I gasped as he kept hammering into me, rocking me back and forth as I climaxed and Bobby moaned as he emptied himself into me and then, more quickly than I had hoped, it was over and I collapsed onto him as I felt him slip out of me. Bobby sucked in a deep breath as our breathing slowed and we recovered from our beautiful lovemaking.
Bobby held me against him and I wrapped my arms around his neck, cuddling him close to me.
"My love," I whispered quietly.
"At last," he said happily.
"Now do you forgive me?" I had to ask.
"Yes," he assured me. "I forgive you."
I burst into tears and cried all over him as we lay naked in his childhood bed of his childhood room but our childhood was gone and this was our new life together.
"Was it worth the wait?" I whispered.
"Definitely," he smiled happily.