Page 19 of Falling Back to You

“You don’t own me.”

“I know it.” My voice was a whisper.

“I hardly go on dates as is because guys don’t wanna deal with the Ozzie Effect.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I don’t date either.”

“No, that doesn’t in any way make me feel better.” She raised her arms to the sky. It was spring but the air had a chill to it. Occasionally a car would zoom past on their way into town. The stillness of the night was punctured by crickets and frogs engaged in private conversations. “We can’t keep doing this.”

“You’re right that this isn’t working.”

Dial and I agreed, but not for the same reasons. In my opinion, we needed to stop denying the obvious and just accept that we were meant to be together. Maybe all our other relationships had failed because we were searching for one another in other people. I wanted love, but if it wasn’t with Dial, then you could keep it.

She examined my face, testing my sincerity. “You just can’t keep doing shit like this.”

“I know it.” Wringing my hands, I wished I was more eloquent, like Cy. “I’d rather eat a bedazzled jean jacket than hurt you.”

“But somehow I keep getting bruised.” Her arms were pinned across her chest.

“If I could take it all back, I’d make it so I never walked into Mozz tonight.”

She scrubbed her face. “What am I gonna do with you?”

“Maybe give a little grace? Players fuck up, and I can admit I fumbled the ball tonight.”

Dial let out a soft laugh. “I thought Shelton was gonna shit his pants when you sat down.”

“His eyes were as big as saucers. Did you notice that?”

“Well, shit, we’re not beating the ‘toxic ex-couple’ label,” she said.

“When were we ever toxic?” I thought we were relationship goals.

She stared at me in disbelief. “You and I are the king and queen of breaking up.”

“That’s what happens when you’re young… figuring things out.” Dial rolled her eyes, but I continued, “We were good at breaking up, but we were better at getting back together.”

Dial leaned against my truck, staring off into the distance. When she was my girl, I was usually able to predict what she needed before she knew it. That’s what happens when you love someone. It’s less about words and more of a vibe. I wasn’t really into that New Age shit, but I always felt like Dial’s energy was connected to mine. Over time, the signal had grown fainter, but it was still there—we just needed some fine tuning.

Most of her fight had subsided; she was resigned to the fucked-up night. I vowed to do better, giving her a chance to genuinely find love. Any relationship would pale in comparison to ours, but if she preferred, she could settle into a mediocre love story. Yep, I’d give her space. But not tonight.

“I sure hope Shelton told you how pretty you look.”

“He did.”

Stepping in front of her, I asked, “Is it okay if I tell you?”

The corners of her bee-stung lips twitched. We could salvage this night with a few well-timed strokes. Dial released a long, low hiss. Closing her eyes, she shook her head, probably willing herself to remain strong and not give in to what I was suggesting.

A car honked a hello as it drove by, and when she opened her eyes, I knew she’d lost the internal battle over going straight home or hanging out with me.

“Maybe… you could show me… just how pretty I am.”

I chuckled, my eyes pinging from her breasts to her lips. “I can do that.” If Dial wanted to be fucked, I was the right man for the job.

In the back seat of my Ford, she was now slowly riding my dick. When we were younger and both still living with our parents, we would sneak off and have sex in the back of my hand-me-down truck. Some things never changed. While she rocked over my lap, my hands explored her body. The dip in her waist. Her apple-sized chest, which she claimed had shrunk after childbirth. The curve of her spine as she arched her back.

Pulling her close, I whispered in her ear, “You’re perfect. It’s like your pussy was made for me.” I loved the way her mouth pinched as she tried to contain a smile. “Tell me one thing you like about me.”