Falling for Ocean Blue [BxB] ✔️

Chapter Thirty three

I wake up in a cold sweat.

Upright and panting heavily.

My lungs inhale the crisp air and deflate with the feeling of helpless disillusion. The sky is losing its opulence, a string of dawn cuts across the horizon, teasing a bright morning.

The world is failing around me, collapsing under the weight of water-logged brick walls. My legs cramp with tension. I reach for my phone. The screen burns blue as I pull it upright. Thirteen missed calls.

I click it shut. The only reason I don't shatter the SIM card is because it holds the phone number I gave to Fray. I don't want him asking anymore questions. The boy is like a tidal wave against frail walls.

We kissed.

My mind races to keep up. I suddenly have the urge to throw my head into my headboard. Fuck. I don't know what he expects now. Maybe he'll go back to ignoring me again. A part of me would be relieved. It's easier to pine than it is to have an affair. 

After last night, he left me alone with only a text message.

Practice. Your place.

The finality in his periods hound me the rest of the morning as I busy myself with tidying the piano room. Soren is away at a Sunday morning practice. Kitty and Mum are shopping in the Hills until late. I know that because she waltzed in to 'borrow' a charging bank. I hate how nefarious a piano practice has been warped into so that I am sneaking around preparing for it. I take my time in the shower, scrubbing my neck where both lovers have left their imprint. I don't remember when I became this philandering.

It pulls at my heart when I hear gravel crunching underneath rubber tires.

It's barely midday.

I was hoping for more time.

The intercom buzzes.

My mouth waters in anticipation.

I catapult out of my room before Yvette can open the door. I catch her in the hallway with a hand on the door and a scowl plastered over her face.

"It's for me!"

Yvette rolls her eyes and retreats back into the kitchen.

I swing open the door a touch too far to a beauty dressed in jeans and a number 12 sweatshirt. He stares back at me, unaffected. I adjust the width of my grin, beaming a little less to match his veiled indifference. Veiled because his appearance is immaculate. Comb marks in his side-swept hair, an expensive watch adorned consciously on his wrist, starched collar underneath a wrinkle-free sweater. Fray Anderson is dressed up.

"Are you going to invite me inside?"

I nod.

Fray ambles into the warm light, his gelled hair deepening into a chestnut hue. I note that I prefer his trademark bedhead, but perhaps that's too confrontational to say aloud. I find myself trailing behind as he takes lead, both of us in terse silence.

The music room door is opened then slammed shut and he's pushing me into it. His mouth is rough against mine, begging for entrance with every lapping stroke of his tongue. Fray bites my bottom lip, using the leverage to slip past my defences. His taste overloads my senses. I inhale the light of him. His strong body moulds to the contour of mine. He lifts my hands, so they are holding the slope of his waist, whilst his clutch either side of my neck. One thumb gently traces the underside of my jaw, in overwhelming contrast to the death grip he has over my thrashing pulse.

Fray is undeniably erect, pushed taut against my hipbone. I swallow his moans, nibbling his bruised lips between my teeth. He lifts his head to let out a roused sigh. I dreamed of this. A chance to mark him like he marked me. I latch onto his tanned neck with a fierce determination to leave a constellation in his universe.