Chapter Four: A Trip Down Memory Lane

What happened after that?

Well, I stood there for a few minutes, in absolute shock. My car was running in his driveway, my son probably getting pissy for me taking so long. But I couldn't move. He was looking at me with an amused smirk on that handsome face. God, he was never this cocky, was he?

It had been ten years since I last saw this man. Ten years since he walked out of my life and just 'ghosted' me. I should be yelling at him, hitting him in the chest, asking him why. I should be back in my car, driving away, not looking back. But, instead, I just stand there, completely speechless. C'mon, Maxie, don't let him get to you.

"Darling?" a woman's voice comes from behind him.

Finally, his face changes from the smug smile to a creased forehead and frown. Before he can say anything, however, a redhead appears next to him.

"Oh, the food." She gives me a once over, distaste evident in her pretty features. "Took you long enough." She grabs the bags from my hand.

I still don't move.

She raises a perfect eyebrow. "You can leave now." She turns to the man that never stopped haunting my dreams, no matter how hard I pretend he doesn't bother me anymore. "What are you doing, Easton? Let's go eat. I hope you didn't tip the little rat. The food is later than we were promised."

My stomach twists into a fiery knot. That fucking whore. I'm one minute late. One minute. Not 30 minutes, not an hour.

Easton gives her a peck on the cheek. "I'll be right in, just finishing up some…." He glances at me. "I have to sign for the food, sweetheart." Smooth.

She nods, glares at me, and goes back to wherever she came from.

"Look, Max." he runs a hand through his dark waves.

Uh, no. Nope. He doesn't get to do this to me again. "Only friends and family call me, Max." I find my words and feel proud of myself. I also remember my son waiting for me and turn to leave.

"Wait!" I pause and slowly turn around, so much more than I should be giving him right now. He jogs up to me. "Let me give you a tip."

I wave my hand. "Not necessary. After all," the corner of my mouth tilts up in a sad smile. "The food was late."

He shakes his head and grabs my hand, placing a few bills in it and closing my fist around it. "Fuck her." He whispers to me. He peers into my eyes with his dark ones. Damn, those eyes could always get me to do whatever he asked and he knew it. "It's not what you think."

This time I shake my head. "Whatever, Easton. I've gotta go. My kid's waiting."

"Kid?" he asks. But I don't respond. I walk, faster than I had before, back to my car, get in it, and drive away. Silent tears trek their way down my cheeks.

After all this time, why now?

I bet you're wondering who Easton is. Well, I'll tell you. I'll give you more insight into Easton Cooper than you'll get about Patrick, aka PJ. Because Easton is so vital to me and my life. He's the reason I went to PJ. The reason why I pushed myself into a marriage I didn't really want. Why I fooled myself to love a man who had so much power to hurt me because no one could hurt me worse than Easton fucking Cooper.

If I hadn't married PJ, Easton would still be the one in possession of my heart whether he knew it or not.

Did I love him? I'm not sure but there was the possibility that one day, I could've. He didn't give me much of an opportunity to fall for him. He ghosted me before I could even put my pants back on.

And then I met PJ. He was kind, funny, and seemed to want a family with me. It was the perfect timing. I wasn't getting any younger and with PCOS, my ovaries were expiring, more and more, day by day. It felt like I was in a rush to get pregnant, so I settled. Added bonus-it allowed me to move past Easton.

The worst part about Easton Cooper? He had been my friend first. My best fucking friend.

I met him on the monkey bars in 1st grade. I was the second tallest girl in my grade, and I prided myself in my ability to skip not 2 but 3 bars. Impressive, I know.

Easton was the new kid that year and already super popular with both the guys and the girls in our school. And, like all the other girls, I had a little puppy crush on him. Unlike them, however, I was born a pessimist and didn't put much stock in it. I recognized he was cute and then promptly moved on to more important things-attempting to skip 4 bars on the monkey bars. It was a difficult mission, but I was brave and I knew I could do it.

I was standing on the silver step, about to take my shot when Easton came up behind me. "What are you doing?"

I stumbled and fell into the wood chips. "Ahhhh!"

"Oh, man! I'm so sorry!" he rushed over to me and squatted down, looking me over with his wide, dark eyes. "Are you okay?"

"You scared the poop out of me, Easton!" My face was red, and my lip was trembling. There was no way I was going to show my weak side and cry to the cutest boy ever. Plus, he's a 5th grader, I don't want to be bullied by him and his friends. It's only scrapes, Maxie. Toughen up, grow a backbone, like daddy always says.

He giggled, making my face redden more. "Poop?"

I suddenly remembered I was 6 and immature and started to laugh with him. That was what marked our friendship, bonding over poop jokes.

"I'm okay." I responded to him when our laughter died down.

He stood up and held his hand out to me. "I'm Easton. I see you on the monkey bars a lot. You're not too bad."

"Maxie." I took his hand and let him pull me to my feet. "And thanks!"

"No problem! So, Maxie, wanna play tag with me and my friends?" he asked with that trademark grin that would make anyone weak in their knees. I was no fool, even at 6.

"Sure!"

Being 4 years older than me, Easton was always a few steps ahead of me in everything. But he always made it a point to not leave me behind. We stayed in touch after he left for middle school. He would come by during his class breaks (the middle school was connected to the elementary school) and make all my friends jealous that I knew an older boy. I'm pretty sure he did it more for himself than for me. Easton loved the attention.

When I entered 6th grade, Easton would drive from the high school across town to give me rides home. I never met his family, but he was the favorite among mine. My father gave him his blessing to marry me every time he came by our house. Easton loved that, too.

By the time I was a sophomore, my best friend was already in college, states away. He'd visit on holidays and such, a new girl attached to his hip every time. I was crushing for the guy by then, genuinely believing that we'd get married one day. So, those women he brought home…. yeah, I hated them more than Bitch Tit McGee, not much more, but more.

One girlfriend was named Stacy, a whore with fake boobs and an even faker tan. She assumed I was his little sister. I was 16 and the furthest thing from a 'little sister', at least that's what I thought.

"Oh my god! Easton! Your sister is soooo cute!" she squealed, and I wanted to pull out her bleached extensions, in hopes that it would make it stop.

Before Easton could say anything, I smiled, sweetly, and tilted my head at her. "Awe, thanks Cindy."

"It's Stacy." She frowned at me.

I could see Easton trying his hardest not to laugh. Should have been my first clue that the dude would never be a good boyfriend. He never stood up for any of the girls he was with. But they were also dumb sluts, so I also don't really know why he was with them to begin with. Boredom? Maybe. Or because his dad suggested they would be good suitors? Most likely.

Easton's family were old money. He told me that once when we were hanging out, back before he left for college…

"Oops, sorry, Stacy." I pouted and leaned toward her, whispering in her ear, "Please don't tell Easton about my mess-up. The last time I did that with one of his girlfriends, he spanked me so hard." I cringed and rubbed my bottom. "It hurt so bad."

Stacy went red in the face and I bit my lip to keep myself from laughing. "Um, Easton….?"

Easton was fully aware of our interaction. Although he had been pretending to scroll through his phone, he was obviously paying attention to every word. I expected no less from him. But he also didn't stop me. I think he was probably over Stacy, anyhow.

"Yes, Stace?"

"I'm ready to go back now." She shouldered her purse and stood from the bench we had all been sitting on. "I think I'm gonna call my father's car service to come get me. See you at school." And then she walked off.

As soon as her back was turned and she was a good distance away, I busted up. Easton smirked at me and raised a brow.

"Really, Maxie? Could you be any more immature?" he also stood from the bench but waited for me to join him.

I shrugged. "Probably."

I got up and didn't miss the way his dark eyes roamed my body. This wasn't the first time. Since puberty hit me, he'd definitely taken notice of the big changes. Big changes. I went from pancakes for tits to melons. My waist narrowed and my ass bubbled out. I still had the childish face and innocent, blue eyes but my body had become a woman's.

"When are you gonna grow up?" he muttered, shaking his head.

I glanced down at my chest. "I think I'm already close to growing up, East…"

He followed my eyes. "Jesus, Max. That's not what I meant. You are constantly telling every girlfriend of mine that I do twisted things to you. First," he rubbed at the back of his neck. "What the hell are you reading or watching? And second, why?"

I twiddled my thumbs. "God, Easton." I whispered. "Stop acting like you don't know why."

Silence grew thick between us. He did know why. I told him every chance I got. In first grade, when I gave him the title of my bestest friend ever. Fourth, when I told him he was the only boy I liked. At 12, when I gave him my first kiss and acted like it was because of a dare from one of my friends. We both knew it wasn't a dare. Then a couple months ago, after I finished my sweet 16 with a wine cooler at a friend's house. I drunk texted him that I wanted him to take my v-card. He never responded and we both pretended like that text didn't exist.

He drove me home, both of us lost in our thoughts.

When I opened his door to get out, he finally answered me. "I know."

There was so much unsaid in those two words. He knew why I did my hardest to sabotage every relationship he had. But he also knew why he let me. We were just both very, very confused. I was barely 16 and he was 20 years old, technically an adult. It was just too taboo for anything to occur between us.

So, instead of ruining our friendship and discussing those sticky feelings we had, we both swept them under the rug.

I smiled at him and waved him goodbye as he drove away. He texted me later that night that he was going to head back to campus, but he'd see me in a few more months, around Christmastime. I knew he'd bring another girl. Maybe a brunette this time? I hoped she'd be natural and tolerable so that I would be able to move on from the only man I'd ever had feelings for.

She wasn't even remotely tolerable, by the way. She was a redhead and a total hoebag. But, this time, I said nothing to her. I went along when she called me his sister and I pretended it didn't bother me at all when he didn't correct her, either.

Easton dated Elizabeth, the bitchy redhead, longer than the others. I hated it so I started making up excuses to not hang out when he came to town. It was difficult to not see him. But we still texted daily so that helped, a little.

Before we both knew it, I was graduating high school. 18 years old. My chest got bigger, my ass rounder, my face still submersed in the fountain of youth (I'd wish for that baby face back in later years). I hadn't seen Easton in a year and a half. He hadn't responded to my last few texts so when I sent him the invite via email, I really didn't think he'd come.

But there he was. Seated with my family. Butterflies went wild in my tummy. For once, he was by himself. Not a trace of the redhead by his side. Or any other chick, for that matter.

I walked the line, received my diploma, and went to be congratulated by my loved ones.

"Wow, Max, I can't believe we are here!"

It was later that night and we had decided to go visit the playground where we had first met. Only, instead of the monkey bars, we were sitting on the swings, just swaying back and forth. I knew he didn't mean 'here' as in the school but 'here' as in our lives.

I nodded. "Yeah, it's crazy. Sometimes, I still feel like that clueless 6-year-old."

Easton chuckled. "Please, Maxie, you have never been clueless in your life. You always knew what you were doing or saying. That's why I was always drawn to you."

I looked up at him, wide-eyed. He was staring back, those dark eyes glistening. "Really?"

"You seriously don't know?"

I knew but I wanted to hear him say it. "Know what?"

"God, girl. I've loved you since the minute I saw you skipping bars on the monkey bars." And with that, he took my face in his warm hands and gave me a kiss that countered the one I stole from him in middle school.

He pulled away, my lips swollen and sore and wanting more.

He smirked. "How's that for a second kiss?"

"Whatever, jerk." I pulled him closer to me by his shirt and returned the kiss. My tongue inquisitive, probing at the lines of his lips until he allowed me entrance. I was doing what I saw in movies and read in books and it was so much better than I had fantasized. He let me explore for a few seconds before he took control and showed me all the ways of pleasure, just with his mouth.

I moaned into him, causing him to wrap his arms around me and pull me into his lap.

"I've waited too long for this, Maxie." He said into my mouth and all I could do was mumble my agreement.

"Mhm." I nibbled at his bottom lip, encouraging him to go further.

His hands slipped under my shirt, trailing fingertips over my stomach, gently tracing every dip and curve, as if committing them to memory. I couldn't speak, couldn't breathe. I just went with every motion. I arched my back, drawing my body closer to his, while my hands gripped the chains of the swing.

"Fuck, Maxie." He said under his breath, as he cupped both my breasts. I had taken my bra off when I changed after the dinner with my family earlier. I hadn't thought twice about it. This was supposed to just be a night of reminiscing with my best friend.

I groaned as he brushed his thumbs over my nipples. "Mmm, fuck me, Easton!"

Until I said it out loud, I had no idea how badly I wanted it, or how badly he wanted it, too. I became aware of him, hard and ready, pressing against me. My body began to move without my even thinking. One hand let go of the chain and laid itself on his chest, stroking and feeling the wild heartbeat that matched my own.

It was his turn not to breathe. He removed his hands from under my shirt and held the chains so I could fully let go and explore the man that I wanted for so long. I lifted his shirt up to his neck and gazed at his tan abs. They were like a fucking God. I wanted to lick him. I wanted to tease his nipples with my teeth and drag my tongue across his stomach, tasting every bit of him, until I made my way toward his pelvis. I wanted to reach my hands into his pants and toy with the cock that had turned me into such a horny bitch.

But I worried that if I didn't do something now, that all of this would disappear. Like I would wake up and find out that this had all just been a dream. So, I channeled my inner porn star and did something I never thought I would. I stood up, shimmied out of my leggings, glad that panties were not on my mind when I was changing out of my graduation dress, and made quick work of taking his dick out of his jeans.

Easton watched me the whole time, a shocked expression on his handsome face. He didn't do anything, however, and I think maybe he didn't want this to end, either.

So, before I could talk myself out of it, I sat my virgin pussy down on his huge, pulsing cock.

"Shit!" We both screamed out, pleasure coursing through our bodies.

There was no pain or blood, most likely because I popped my cherry a couple months ago, with a dildo I bought secretly with my saved allowance….

Once I was fully seated on him, we just sat there, kind of soaking up the emotions and feelings that were occurring within us. Easton stared into my eyes, his dark ones portraying all the words that I couldn't ever say aloud. Then, he moved. His hips began to rock, back and forth, encouraging me to also move.

I grinded myself against him, feeling so full and warm all over. Tingling sensations traveled their way up my body and I couldn't help myself any longer. I was rocking faster, edging myself closer and closer to an explosion that would make all my other orgasms look pathetic.

"Oh, fuck, Easton! I'm gonna…"

"Yes, baby!" he gripped my hips, somehow keeping us seated on the swing at the same time. "Fuck, Maxie. Me too! Cum with me, baby!"

My body shook as my climax overtook me. I could barely feel him losing control inside me. Not that it mattered, I trusted Easton, whole heartedly…and I was on birth control (much thanks to my doctor and my irregular cycles).

Also, I was kind of distracted by the extreme bliss.

(Later I would learn that it wasn't really normal to cum on command like that. With all the other guys I would explore sexually, it would take me a lot of time to get off, if I even achieved that at all.)

After we cleaned ourselves up the best we could, considering we were on a playground…at night…thank god…he took me home. We barely said goodbye to one another. Easton kissed me lightly, told me he'd talk to me later and to get some sleep.

I honestly thought that I would hear from him in the morning and when I didn't, sure, I was disappointed, but I assumed he had forgotten. But, when he hadn't responded to my text, I knew something was up. Yeah, he had gone a long time, in the past, without talking to me…. but this was different. We had sex. Things had changed for us, right?

I didn't want to blow up his phone so I ignored my urges and continued with my life the best I could. I got a job and started to work. My family was falling apart, as well, so that was an extremely easy distraction from the ghost of my best friend.

When my birth vessel left us a few months later, I tried to reach out to Easton again. I told him that I needed him, as a friend. That I would forget everything else if he would just talk to me.

I did get a response that time. But not the one I wanted.

Easton—hi, this is Easton's girlfriend, Elizabeth. We appreciate your need for attention but find it elsewhere, kay? He isn't interested in your sad, little self.

I was heartbroken. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I deleted his number from my phone. It was the final straw. He had left me right after dropping me off at home. I just didn't realize just how gone he was. Maybe he's the one who caused my abandonment issues…Sorry, B.V., for always blaming you.