is it over now? [tom blyth]

9.

After Kira and I's stand-off the other night at Daisy's, things have been tense between everyone. And by everyone, I quite literally mean every single person you can imagine. Me, Alana, Daisy, Meg, Alex, all of Daisy's friends that were there, and now, the entire British Press.

Everyone heard our argument. Apparently the door didn't shut when Kira came outside, so everyone heard the choice words we said to each other. Alana hasn't had much to say to me at all, and maybe that is worse than her cursing me out. I think I would have preferred that. On top of it all, Alex and Kira have gone public. The first thing I saw when I opened my phone this morning was several articles declaring Alex to be 'wifed up' (I wouldn't go that far) and dishing the details of their 'secret romance' of the last 18 months. It included photos, 'exclusive statements from people close to the pair', everything you would expect in a public declaration of love. It made me sick, because she looked so happy.

There were plenty of photos, clearly snapshots of their 'whirlwind romance' and it was... beautiful? They were both glowing, literally. Life filled their cheeks as they smiled wide enough to leave only the best of creases on their skin. One photo was clearly from not long after our break-up, likely early in their relationship. Kira's hair was straight, shorter than it is now, and she sat on Alex's lap as they were photographed on a balcony that looked over the streets of Paris. I only imagine it was taken by one of Alex's friends during a trip away, but the way they were full of glee in this photo only made my heart twist. I wanted to be angry, upset, broken at the fact she moved on from me so quickly whilst I was doing everything I could to fill the empty space in my bed, as she so angrily pointed out the other night. But she wasn't, in fact she was letting someone take off her little silk blouses and make love to her the way I used to.

I locked my phone, throwing it furiously into the bed and trying not to look too pissed off whilst Alana was dressing herself for work just across the room. We locked eyes in the floor length mirror that she was standing in front of, a look on her face that I couldn't quite place whether it was sadness, disappointment or rejection. I think part of her must have picked up on my lingering feelings for my ex, considering how we spat the other night and embarrassed ourselves in front of everyone. It doesn't take a genius to have seen the tension between us.

She doesn't say anything, and when I haul myself to the bathroom to shower and get dressed, I come back to an empty room. I pull pants and a shirt on, throw the sheets across the bed in a mess and make my way down to the kitchen. I always felt like I was intruding when Alana wasn't home, like I didn't belong here. I guess that is what can be expected when I am living out of my suitcase in my girlfriend's flat whilst I decide what I am doing with myself. I had already cancelled my flight back to New York and whilst I would love to say it is because of my new-found relationship, I fear it may be because of someone else that has an aching chokehold on me.

I want to talk to her, but I am becoming increasingly aware that it won't happen, not over my dead body. The rage that Kira hosted at dinner was nothing like I had ever seen, and whilst part of me felt guilty for bringing that vicious side out of her, I was equally relieved to see that she must have an ounce of care left for me. Enough to willingly come outside where I was, stand near me, and get close enough to me that I could smell the smoke in her breath laced with wine and venom. It was a toxic combination and was keeping me from going back to New York.

It is scary to think that used to be our home. Her and I. One together. That apartment, her apartment, the way we would float between the two and make a home out of both, the way we nearly merged them together to make it a shared space. I will forever wonder what would have and could have been if I never went home for Christmas, or at least pushed her harder to come home with me. All would have been different.

I set up the coffee machine to run and the smell filled the small kitchen that looked over a green garden. Part of me could see myself putting up here and falling in love with Alana, but I also couldn't bring myself to, knowing what could be and with Kira being so close to me yet so far out of reach.

-

"We need to talk."

Ah. Fuck. I knew this had to be coming. Things have been quiet with Alana and I over the last few days and I know it is because of Kira, it has to be. I sight, putting my glass down on the bench as she leans against the opposite one. I can't tell if she decided to stand here in a pink, lace bra and my boxers as a way to make me crumble, but it was working.

"Are you still in love with Kira?"

I force my eyes to widen and show a look of shock on my face. I can't let her know that she may be on the right track with that one, and maybe she is the reason I am still here in London, but I don't want to break this girls' heart, because I do like her. I think.

"No," I pick up my glass, "no, no, no, no, not at all." Her eyebrow quirks up.

"Well, that is the impression I got when you came for her throat at dinner. You know, unresolved business?"

I move over to her, slipping my hand around her waist and pinning her against the bench. She gazes her blue eyes up to mine and encapsulates me entirely. She is, admittedly, incredibly beautiful. Free of makeup, her skin is flushed pink and her chest is heaving at how close our bodies are right now. Her throat bops as she swallows a heavy breath.

"Yes, we have unresolved business, but that doesn't mean I am not in this," I gesture between us with short movements, "for real." I plant a kiss on her lips and notice her smile as I do so. There she is. My arm snakes around her, sliding my glass to the back of the bench before I hoist her body up on top of it. Her arms go around my neck and we are pulled flush together. My desperate hands find the clasp at her back and unhook her bra, sliding it down her arms that move quickly to find the hair at the nape of my neck again. I fondle her breast, her breaths becoming short and getting caught in my mouth.

I pull away, her lips plumper than before, and kneel on the cold tiles of the kitchen. She looks down at me for the first time ever, noticing the smirk on my lips as I pull her by her knees to the edge of the bench. Her hands fall behind her and plant on the benchtop to keep herself steady whilst I slide the boxers down her pale legs. She is panting and I am like a hungry animal, pulling the matching pink thong to the side and attaching my lips to her damp core.

She is releasing little moans from her lips as I lap at her clit, devouring every part of her that she is giving me right now. She is in heaven and I have given her the path to get there. My hands rub up and down her legs, squeezing her thighs and massaging her ass to bring her closer to my mouth and prevent any chance of escape. I let one of my hands move up her inner thigh and plunge a finger into her wet pussy, looking up to see her head thrown back in ecstasy.

I love the way I can make girls feel, and I especially love when it stops them from accusing me of being in love with my ex-girlfriend.

Kira used to love being underneath me. It was almost our thing. Whilst she loved giving me pleasure and I loved receiving it, there was nothing that compared to how good she looked under my tongue, and especially under my body whilst I thrust into her. The way her eyes would roll back, her breaths would become one with mine, the rhythm being seamless and pleasurable. We had a way with each others' bodies, and we were both equally willing to try new things and experiment with our sex. Our sex. It was a team and neither of us was ever left wanting more. We would leech every last drop of each other out till we were panting and falling asleep in the others' embrace.

Our sex life was incomparable. It was every day, sometimes multiple times, playing around with our limits and finding new things that would bring each other joy and pleasure. It was our goal and part of who we were when we were together.

The excitement I feel with Alana is almost nothing in comparison. Is it rude of me to say that, even with a hot girl's pussy in my face, I can't stop thinking about someone else? Mainly because this sex is nothing in retrospect? God, I feel like an asshole, and as my tongue and fingers flick furiously over her clit to bring her to the edge, I can't seem to do it quick enough for it to be over.

When her legs shake around my shoulders, it feels like a permission slip to exit the room. I stand, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand and planting a wet kiss to her lips. Her dazed state takes all of it and doesn't question my swift exit upstairs and to the bathroom, where I run a shower and finish myself off thinking about the taste of my ex-girlfriend on my lips.