Frayed Silk(15)

And cue the eye roll because yes, I’m still a virgin. I’ve never had a boyfriend for longer than a few months, so I never got around to trusting them fully and giving it up.

“What does it matter?” I try to sound bored.

“Look, I’m not interested—okay no, that’s a lie, I’m totally interested in fucking you.” His honesty has me laughing again.

“Seriously, though, I just want to take you out, and keep taking you out until I devise a plan to make you mine. Permanently.”

I guffaw. “A little presumptuous, aren’t you?”

He shrugs, leaning in to tuck some of my blond hair behind my ear. “You can call me whatever you like. Just say yes.”

Butterflies swoop violently in my stomach and cause my heart to flutter alongside them. The way he looks at me and the sincerity in his blue eyes is getting harder and harder to ignore.

He’s a junior, the captain of the swim team and one of the most popular guys on campus. He and his friends stink of money and have no issue flashing it in people’s faces. I came here on a scholarship, and I work two jobs, one as a tutor and the other a barista just to get by. Worse than all that, he could crush me and make me wish I’d never laid eyes on him.

But when he leans in to softly press his lips to mine, I don’t move away, and I’m rewarded with a feeling I’ve never felt before. It feels like I’ve been sleepwalking for the past eighteen years, and I’m finally starting to wake up. It’s a feeling so addictive that I surprise myself by rising onto my toes to wrap my arm around his neck and tilt my head, parting my lips to deepen the kiss.

He groans when I hesitantly skim my tongue along his, causing delicious shivers to rake their way over my entire body. We get lost in the slow exploration of the heat and curves of each other’s mouths as if they’re old friends who’ve finally reunited once again and have all the time in the world to catch up.

Until someone calls out, “Woo! Get it, Vandellen!”

I pull back slightly; our chests heave with our ragged breaths.

He gives me a crooked smile that I feel all the way down to the soles of my feet and tightens his arm around me. “You’re mine now, Dahlia.”





And I was. Despite courting me as he promised, from that night on, I was irreversibly his. I’d like to say that I wish I could turn back and shake my eighteen-year-old self and warn her of what’s to come for us, but I can’t bring myself to regret a thing. Not our years together and most definitely not our children.

We’ve had our ups and downs, as most couples do. We’ve never been much for bickering, no, we’d usually let it all out heatedly because we both knew what came after. That amazing, passionate, angry make-up sex. In the months after he started to slowly pull away from me, I tried to bait him. Tried anything to get that heated look back in his eyes. The one he’d get right before he’d lock us in a room and cover my mouth while he fucked the shit out of me.

But it didn’t work. Nothing has worked.

I’ve often wondered what he’d do if I left; if I just walked out. But the kids … This is their home. Leo is their father, and despite breaking my heart, he’s still good to them for the most part, just more absent than he used to be.

I pick the dress up, running my fingers over the smooth silk and spreading the skirt over my lap. I have no idea how much time has passed, but I feel him, standing in the doorway behind me. He doesn’t say a word, just watches silently as I continuously run my finger over the fraying tear in the fabric. I feel his eyes on me for another minute before I hear him quietly walk away.





I lean back against my car, listening as Fiona tells us about her latest fight with her husband.

“Over socks! I mean, can you even believe that shit? All I did was ask him to pick the filthy things up off the floor and put them in the hamper instead of in front of the damn thing.”

“Ugh, Trey did the same thing, so I thought, you know what? Fuck him. And started leaving them there, unwashed. He’s a quick learner, thankfully.” Lola smirks, and we laugh.

“Thank God my cleaner does our laundry because there’s no way in hell I’m touching them. Just seeing them lying around is bad enough.” Fiona’s eyes flick to me. “How’s Leo? Has he been driving you mad? God, it feels like forever since we all hung out together as a group.”

It has; the last time was at her and Dylan’s anniversary party. Our husbands, even with their differing career choices, all get along really well, which is great when we all want a night out. I lift my shoulders in a shrug, deciding to dodge the question as best as I can. “I’m just so used to him now that I guess nothing fazes me.” The lie slips past my lips so easily that Lola’s eyes narrow on me.

But I don’t want Fiona to know all about our dirty laundry, excuse the pun. It’s not that I don’t trust her, but the more people who know, the more chance of others finding out about our sham of a marriage. And if he refuses to divorce me, then I’m not about to make waves when I’ll still be here to endure the fallout.

“Anyway, what’s up with those new school hats they’re trying to bring in? What the hell was wrong with the old ones?” I change the subject.

Fiona groans. “Right? Have you seen them? They’ll all look like mini tennis players. Ridiculous.”