ultimately allow me to cut ties with both siblings. Only now that I’ve had a taste of what it might be like to be with Willow—hearing her filthy words drip from identical lips; understanding what lies in the taboo recesses of her mind; being able to experience it while in the physical presence of Sage’s willing body, a body which I imagine to be as nearly identical to her sister’s as her face is—I’m even hungrier. Rather than satisfying my appetite, it increased it tenfold, having the exact opposite effect that I’d hoped for. It stirred glowing embers that I’d been trying to ignore. And now they’re a raging inferno.
I grit my teeth against my stupidity, against my inability to control my libido any better than this. The worst part is that I know, deep down, that all this happened because I wasn’t really genuinely interested in controlling myself. I didn’t want to stay away as much as I wanted to explore this. Once Willow’s pages were thrown into the mix, my good intentions went right out the window.
I’m walking through the door of my house when my phone bleeps with an incoming text. I don’t recognize the number, so I touch the green square to view the message.
(Sage) Ebon, it’s Sage. Just wanted to give you my new number. I took a new job. New job = new phone. I know we said goodbye, but I thought if you ever needed to reach me… xoxo Sage:)
I stop. Right in my tracks. Already, there’s conflict building inside me. I did say goodbye. I walked away. For good reason. I need to leave it alone.
But then the side of me that likes to play devil’s advocate rears its ugly head. It says that I don’t want Sage thinking I’m the bad guy, that I don’t want her thinking I’m just heartlessly walking away and that I won’t ever contact her at her new number. That would be really shitty of me, right? Right.
Before I can think better of what the hell I’m doing, I’m back in my car, driving to Sage’s. I sit in the parking lot outside her apartment for another ten minutes, at turns talking myself out of what I’m about to do and then excusing it. I look up at the balcony. I see only the pale blue glow of maybe a computer monitor from what looks like Willow’s room. No other lights are on in the apartment, but I know Sage is awake. Well, at least she should still be.
In the end, I break down and text her.
(Me) Can we talk?
I wait. That’s a pretty simple question. I’ll let her response guide my next step. If she doesn’t answer, she’s asleep. If she does, then…
About thirty seconds later, I get a response.
(Sage) Of course. Is something wrong?
I debate how to answer that. I decide to go with honesty.
(Me) I can’t stop thinking about the other night. I know we said goodbye, but…
I groan at her response.
(Sage) Me, too.
My fingers hesitate only briefly.
(Me) What are you doing right now?
Her response is rapid.
(Sage) Lying in bed.
I pull the keys from the ignition and get out of my car. Without giving it any more thought or allowing myself another opportunity to do something less crappy and more rational, I walk toward her apartment.
(Me) Come to the door.
I don’t knock. I don’t want Willow to know I’m here. In fact, I kind of like the thought of her being right in the next room…lying in her bed…possibly sleeping naked, with nothing covering her but a thin sheet…
I grit my teeth as guilt washes over me. If I do this tonight, I need to be honest with Sage about what this is and where it’s going. Which is nowhere.
But I can’t stop yet. I need one more time.
There is silence on the other side of the door for a couple of long minutes. I wait patiently because I know how women are. I know she’s likely scrambling around her room, straightening up or making sure her hair is attractively messy.
Finally, I hear the muted click
I grit my teeth against my stupidity, against my inability to control my libido any better than this. The worst part is that I know, deep down, that all this happened because I wasn’t really genuinely interested in controlling myself. I didn’t want to stay away as much as I wanted to explore this. Once Willow’s pages were thrown into the mix, my good intentions went right out the window.
I’m walking through the door of my house when my phone bleeps with an incoming text. I don’t recognize the number, so I touch the green square to view the message.
(Sage) Ebon, it’s Sage. Just wanted to give you my new number. I took a new job. New job = new phone. I know we said goodbye, but I thought if you ever needed to reach me… xoxo Sage:)
I stop. Right in my tracks. Already, there’s conflict building inside me. I did say goodbye. I walked away. For good reason. I need to leave it alone.
But then the side of me that likes to play devil’s advocate rears its ugly head. It says that I don’t want Sage thinking I’m the bad guy, that I don’t want her thinking I’m just heartlessly walking away and that I won’t ever contact her at her new number. That would be really shitty of me, right? Right.
Before I can think better of what the hell I’m doing, I’m back in my car, driving to Sage’s. I sit in the parking lot outside her apartment for another ten minutes, at turns talking myself out of what I’m about to do and then excusing it. I look up at the balcony. I see only the pale blue glow of maybe a computer monitor from what looks like Willow’s room. No other lights are on in the apartment, but I know Sage is awake. Well, at least she should still be.
In the end, I break down and text her.
(Me) Can we talk?
I wait. That’s a pretty simple question. I’ll let her response guide my next step. If she doesn’t answer, she’s asleep. If she does, then…
About thirty seconds later, I get a response.
(Sage) Of course. Is something wrong?
I debate how to answer that. I decide to go with honesty.
(Me) I can’t stop thinking about the other night. I know we said goodbye, but…
I groan at her response.
(Sage) Me, too.
My fingers hesitate only briefly.
(Me) What are you doing right now?
Her response is rapid.
(Sage) Lying in bed.
I pull the keys from the ignition and get out of my car. Without giving it any more thought or allowing myself another opportunity to do something less crappy and more rational, I walk toward her apartment.
(Me) Come to the door.
I don’t knock. I don’t want Willow to know I’m here. In fact, I kind of like the thought of her being right in the next room…lying in her bed…possibly sleeping naked, with nothing covering her but a thin sheet…
I grit my teeth as guilt washes over me. If I do this tonight, I need to be honest with Sage about what this is and where it’s going. Which is nowhere.
But I can’t stop yet. I need one more time.
There is silence on the other side of the door for a couple of long minutes. I wait patiently because I know how women are. I know she’s likely scrambling around her room, straightening up or making sure her hair is attractively messy.
Finally, I hear the muted click
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