·you’d better stop and rebuild all your ruins·

[❀ Melíssa]

      “Why are we even having this conversation?” Chelsea hissed into the phone. “Again?”
      “Because it’s relevant to what we’re – ”
      “In no way is a discussion about my boyfriend relevant to finalizing the terms of a tour.”
      “It absolutely is,” Gavin began to explain, a hint a condescension in his voice. “If he’s going to be traveling with us, that’s an extra expense to consider, as we’ll have to determine insurance coverage.”
      “Let me make one thing perfectly clear,” Chelsea’s volume increased and Axel Hinrich – her boyfriend – laid a comforting hand on her arm. “My boyfriend comes along, he’s traveling with me, not us. Secondly, if it’s a matter dealing with money, then it’s something I will discuss with Oliver.”
      “Well, duh. It’s not like he’s not on the phone.” The three-way conference call was a necessity since Oliver was in London for business with another band.
      “Only Oliver,” she clarified through gritted teeth.
      “Hey, I just wanted to make sure it got brought up. I know Nati’s usually the one who handles these meetings, I didn’t know if you knew everything that went into it.”
      “Okay Gavin,” Oliver stepped in. He was content to let them battle out their issues on their own, but that last comment bordered on the type of belittling that he’d watched Chelsea’s old boyfriend put her through, and he was never going to watch that happen again. “Thank you for bringing it to my attention, though I’m sure Chelsea knows exactly what preparations need to be completed prior to a tour. Chelsea, we can discuss the details at another time.”
      “Sounds good.”
      “Now, if you two will excuse me, I have to go speak with a promoter who seems to be having trouble calculating exactly how much his two percent adds up to.”
      ‘Have fun. Love you. Bye!” Chelsea disconnected before she could hear Gavin speak again, tossing the phone onto the table and turning to Axel. “Sorry about that.”
      “No worries,” he pulled her down onto the couch, encouraging her to take a break from her angry pacing. “What’s that guy’s problem, anyway? I could hear his douchebaggery all the way from here.”
      “He’s just jealous,” was her lame offering.
      “Well geez. He’s like, obsessed with you. I mean, I could tell he was into you the first time I met him. Dude looked me over like he wanted to take me outside and kick my ass.”
      “Sounds about right.”
      “You sure you guys didn’t date?”
      “No, we never dated, were never a couple,” biting her lip, she chose her words carefully to explain the situation between herself and Gavin, instantly feeling guilty. This was how she used to answer questions about her old boyfriend, dodging the real answers, only giving people the information she wanted to share, just enough to satisfy them and prevent follow-up questions.
      Axel seemed satisfied by what she’d told him, and just shook his head, his hands going to her shoulders. “Relax,” he murmured, working the tense muscles. His touch coasted from her shoulders to her back, and he shifted as he maneuvered her into a prone position, so that he leaned over her.
      Emitting a moan, she closed her eyes as his palms and fingers worked their way over her body. When he reached her hips, he reversed and headed back up, this time with his hands under her sweater. His fingers on her skin sent chills through her, and she rolled onto her side, reaching up to grip the back of his neck, pulling his face to hers.
      “Chelsea,” he whispered so quietly she scarcely heard him, but she could read his lips. He gave in to the kiss, his hands still under her shirt, working it up to her neck. She sat up long enough for him to pull it over her head and toss it over the couch, and her fingers set to unfastening the button and zipper on his jeans. Once done, he laid his weight on top of her as she repositioned herself onto her back.
      His lips blazed a trail along her jaw and down to her neck, and she arched her back, pressing her chest against him. Returning to her mouth his kiss grew more intense as his body moved against hers. Her hands found the sensitive skin up the sides of his torso, and raked her fingernails lightly over it, feeling him grow hard against her thigh in reaction. The low groan that escaped his lips encouraged her, and she writhed beneath him.
      It wasn’t long before he could take no more, and he scooped her up in his arms, carrying her to the bedroom where he dropped her on the bed, then tore off his own shirt, letting his pants fall to the floor, climbing over in clad in only his boxers. Brushing his lips across her stomach, he slipped a hand down the front of her leggings, making contact with her most sensitive skin. She sucked her breath in through her teeth, bucking against his hand. This only made him work harder, his fingers toying with her until she begged him to stop. Obliging, he stopped only to peel the pants down her legs with her assistance, as she also reached forward to relieve him of his boxers.
      When he stretched out above her again, she slipped a hand between them to guide him to the next step. Their bodies moved together in a steady rhythm, the pace gradually increasing until the frantic ending, which was punctuated by a loud, prolonged groan from him, and a deep gasp from her.
      Lying in silence for awhile, Chelsea contemplated her small network of tiny lies that she’d constructed to keep Axel from knowing exactly what had gone down between her and Gavin, and from understanding exactly why Oliver was so protective of her. She didn’t have to make anything up, exactly, only had to downplay the truth. Staring at the ceiling, she decided that it did neither of them any good to divulge the full details of her and Gavin, and that she really had no obligation to tell him about her past boyfriends, other than the fact they existed.
      “What are you thinking about?” he asked, smiling. It was a joke between them that girls always wanted to know what guys were thinking after sex, so he would ask, thinking he was beating her to it, no matter how many times she told him that she was never going to ask him that. Usually her answer involved a grunt or something snarky.
      Today, however, it was different. “How glad I am to be with you,” she said. “I like you, and I like knowing that you actually, truly care about me. That it’s something real, that you’re not…”
      “I’m not what?” he propped himself up on his elbow and looked into her eyes.
      “You’re not… you’re not someone who is deliberately trying to hurt me.” There. She’d given up a small snippet of what her past relationship entailed.
      His face turned serious. “Never. And if I somehow do, I want you to tell me. Tell me right away.”
      “Trust me, if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s to open my mouth. Fool me once, fool me twice and all that jazz.”
      “Good,” he kissed the tip of her nose, then evacuated the bed to collect their undergarments. “Are you hungry?” When her answer was a nod, he smiled. “I’ll go find something.”
      She wriggled into her underwear and pulled on one of his tshirts that was lying next to the bed – after conducting a smell test – before leaning back against his pillows and turning on the television, thinking to herself how lucky she was to find someone who was so opposite of what she was used to.