Two weeks later Macy chewed on her pen cap, listening to the passing students take seats around the room.
Her closest friend and neighbor, Leighton, was sitting in the seat next to her, sketching the profile of a wolf. Six years ago the two met at gym, working off the ‘freshman fifteen’ and now they were next door neighbors.
Leighton took a black ribbon from her bag, magically tying all of her natural blonde hair back, when Macy noticed heavy, dark circles under her eyes.
Macy sighed, “Thatcher, you gotta take it easy on the photo shoots.”
Leighton inhaled, “Macy, I appreciate the scolding, but it pays my bills.”
Their conversation was innterruped by their professor, Dr. Thomas Fin. He was famous around campus for being intellectually stimulating but enjoyable at the same time. He was patient and connected with every single student in his classes. His stride to the massive chalk board was curt and powerful.
He turned to glance at his class then picked up a piece of chalk. He wrote a word Macy didn’t recognize in big, white letters. He walked around to his desk in front of the class and hopped on it.
“Futuéro,” he said, scanning the room, “ It is Latin, any body want to guess what that means?”
Silence over came the class.
“Sex,” he said, “Today we’ll be discussing the reasons why, we as humans, transgress the laws of physical attraction and use it as a psychological form of acceptance.”
Through the course of the next two hours Macy recorded Dr. Fin’s discussion on gender bias, human relations and sexual relevance. Why a persons attraction is usually based on their deprivations as a child.
“Now we discuss the logic between sex and love,” he paused, “I know what you’re thinking, love and sex have nothing to do with each other.”
He drew a symbol of a heart on the chalkboard, “Well, that is partially true. Sex is phsyical, love is emotional, but to some, it’s the opposite. Some people who have been deprived of love, use sex as an act of acceptance. Not of others, but themselves. They have lived a period of time where they never recieved love or it was taken away. "
Her heart instantly sped up when she thought of Caleb.
“Hey Doc,” she said, sitting up in her chair.
“Yes, Ms. Cunningham?”
“People use, sex, for um, acceptance?”
Dr. Fin sighed and leaned against his desk, “It depends.”
“Wether that person realizes it or not.”
Macy blinked and nodded. The conversation around her continued, but she couldn’t percieve it.
“I want a document on love. No length requirements, but tell me what you think of it. It’s due two weeks from the upcoming Monday.”
Leighton dropped off Macy at her house and then went to run errands.
Caleb wiped sweat off his forehead with his t-shirt. He was in the underground gym of Westpoint, taking out his frustration on a body bag. Being in the perimeters as Macy Cunningham wasn’t easy on his libido, or his heart. Making her walk away on that warm June night was the right thing to do, but he couldn’t understand why it felt like she had sliced his soul in half and had taken a part for herself.
Hit. Hit. Hit.
The last time he felt like this was when he had lost Casey. He smiled faintly at the thought of her. Her music, her smile, her plans for their future.
A lump formed in his throat, “No.”
He rested his forehead on the bag and hugged it, resting his weight against the leather.
A strong hand patted his upper shoulder, “Walker, you all right?”
He lifted his head to see Pierce looking at him with concern, “Yeah, I’m cool.”
“My ass, come on, let’s grab a beer.”
Caleb felt himself felt his stress amble away with the third beer of the night. A curvy brunette kept glancing at him and licking her lips.
Pierce leaned back, “Who’s the girl?”
“The girl whose got your head in your ass, that girl.”
He looked down at the worn out polished wood of the bar, “What makes you think it’s a girl?”
Pierce laughed, “It’s always a girl, dude, that’s what makes us tick.”
“Yeah, well I didn’t ask for your two cents, so, just lay off.”
Pierce chuckled, “All right, Walker, but last tim I saw you like this was with Casey.”
He watched Pierce walk out, “I need a smoke.”
After the last drag of his cigarette, he saw the brunette from earlier look up at him.
“Megan,” she said, putting out the butt with her own cigarette with her heel. She smelled of heavy perfume and tobacco.
He gave her a grin,“Caleb.”
She nodded her head and let her eyes drop suggestively to his jeans before raising her eyebrows, “Lets get out of here.”
Macy woke up the next morning at the crack of dawn, her body felt fatigued but her mind was alert and up before the first bird had chirped. She sipped from the mug of freshly brewed coffee and headed to her porch swing, when she noticed a red, shiny car behind her white Nissan Titan. Several moments later she heard the familair rasp of Caleb’s voice and a much more femine tone with it.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” she said, bringing her knees up to her chest on the swing.
A brunette in tight jeans turned to kiss a shirtless Caleb in gray sweats, when she whispered something in his ear. He shook his head and muttered something inaudible, causing the brunette to throw her arms up exasperated. She turned and got in her car with a huff, and dissapeared down the hilled road.
She watched him take the cigarette placed behind his ear and reached in his pocket for a matchbook. Macy sipped on her coffee, fascincated by the ripple of every muscle. The tightness of his body, the toned flesh of his back. Almost as if he knew she were watching, he turned with the cigarettes hanging from his mouth. In a few easy steps, he was leaning against the wooden railing of the porch. He stood there watching her, making all the heat in her body pool in her core, taking slow drags of his cigarette.
Macy’s body was reacting, given she had no choice. She hugged her legs to herself and sipped on her coffe, while looking straight ahead. She refused to be the one who broke, but the way he stood, taking in everthing about her was affecting her more than she’d like to admit.
He was a dangerous man to be involved with, a born heartbreaker, but she found herself wanting him more than anything before.
“I haven’t had the joy of seeing your pretty face in quite some time,” he said, moving towards her side of the porch.
She took a short breath, “It’s usually accustomed to leave someone alone, once they push you away.”
He took a drag, “Touche.”
She watched the cigarette hang from his thumb and index finger, noticing even more tiny scars on his hand, “You should quit.”
“It’s not that easy,” he said, between puffs.
She had yet to make eye contact with him, “I believe you, but death isn’t something you should predispose yourself to.”
He took her cup of coffee from her hand, flicked the butt on the ground and poured the coffee over it, “You give a shit about me, now?”
She stood, meeting his intense blue eyes with her green ones, “I always did, really, the question is reversible.”
Caleb stood there, looking into her despair filled eyes, trying to find a way to kick himself in the ass.
“I care about you, Macy, more than you know,” he released in the rush.
She scoffed, “Then why are you pushing me away?”
Macy felt heat radiate from Caleb’s massive chest. He was looking away from her, like he was looking for answers around them.
When he finally spoke, his voice was oddly hollow, as if he was tring to distance himself from the conversation, “Do you know what it’s like to watch the person you love most be taken from you, to have slip through your fingers as you watch helpess, and can’t do anything about?”
Her heart was pounding against her chest, desperate to escape the now too small confinements of her body, “You know I do.”
His hands went to cup her face, his beautiful blue eyes searching for some answer in her.
Torment was flashing in the pale blue pools of his irises, “I look at you, and it’s like everything I ever tried to forget comes and reminds me of why I don’t deserve you. I’ve lived in my own personal hell for ten years. I’ve put down roots and gotten comfortable, and I’ll be damned if I drag you down with me.”
Caleb was surprised by what came next. Macy hugged him. She didn’t kiss him, her hands didn’t roam suggestively. She made no lasvicious movements, she just embraced him. Her cheek resting on his chest, her hands holding onto his shoulders.
She tilted her head back to look up at him, “I will fight for you.”
His hands embraced her, cramming her small body against his, desperate to keep this feeling. His heart was thundering under her cheek and he knew it, he was afraid of nothing. Until he’d met her.
This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than Lushstories.com
with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.
<a href="http://www.lushstories.com/stories/love-stories/reading-between-the-lines-chapter-3.aspx">Reading between the lines- Chapter 3</a>