#her obsession with marina a result of feeling as if they are closer than they Actually are bc shes been constantly reading her mind and-- | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thisnerdsadventures · 3 years

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a 2021 update

Ah, so I have forgotten to update in a million years, per usual

~ Random thought section ~

I woke up this morning and read this tweet thread about Alice Wu's director's note for her movie The Half of It. It's streaming on Netflix, and I highly encourage to go watch it, it's probably one of my favorite movies from the past few years. Anyways, she talks about how she produced the film while digesting the heartbreak of a friendship breakup - the whole thread hit me on a different level, but here's a quote that really hit home for me, especially a month from graduation: "The end of the film is each of their beginnings. And for my characters, I can think of no happier ending." We spend a lot of time worrying about the end of things and the uncertainty of things to come. Yet, there was a time where we worried about the exact same things for the very chapter we are now so nervous about leaving.

1. I'm nervous about leaving school and starting the..... rest of my life???

2. I'm nervous that my friends will slowly fade away. I'm nervous that they'll get on with their lives and I'll be slowly still trying to get my bearings, stuck in limbo.

3. I'm nervous that starting adulthood will be difficult because there are no more college orientations, no more awkward freshman dinners, perfect opportunities to meet new friends who are just as nervous as you are.

In writing this out, I felt a sense of deja-vu, like I had written these words before. So I just looked back at some of my posts right before entering college, and lo and behold:

08-18-2016: Today I said goodbye to one of my closer friends, and i realized that without even knowing it, Sunday’s party was the last time I would see some of my closest friends. It’s awful that way, that you don’t even know it’s the last time until it’s passed, and you’re left to pick up the the end of a chapter of a relationship from the scraps of an unexpected and improper farewell.

I feel like I’m in a weird twilight zone between college and high school where my present friends are all beginning to fade away to move on in their lives, and I’m yet to really meet anyone in my class yet, so at the moment,,,,,,there really isn’t anyone.

I wrote this less than a week from moving to Boston, and it's so shocking to me that I also experienced the "unexpected and improper farewell" part in senior year. It's almost the exact same thing that happened in COVID and is continuing to happen. You never know when the last time you might see someone might be, except instead of consolidated over the course of one pre-college summer, it's over the course of more than a year, the time that this pandemic has been going for.

And I hate that I said the "fade away and move on" thing verbatim, literally nearly five years ago. To be honest though, it's true, a lot of them did fade away and move on. But so did I, I wasn't left behind. To some extent, I was the one who did a lot of the moving away. And like many things in life, a couple of us continue to hang around, and maybe our friendships cycled in and out over college, but have come around again after a few years. I guess those are the ones that you know will stick around. The limbo period between chapters is a hard one, and it's nice to know that present-day me isn't the only one who has felt this. It's nice to know that past me met so many incredible people so fast, that I forgot this limbo period happened.

I know this part is getting a little long, but there's just a couple more snippets I want to share:

08-13-2016: I recently read Marina Keegan’s essay The Opposite of Loneliness, and one line resonated with me a lot: We’re so young. It seems silly and almost pretentious for me to think that this party would be so final, and yet it does, even though we have decades upon decades to build and connect or reconnect.

We’re so young, but that doesn’t stop the understanding that we are going to a new chapter in our lives and that it’s going to redefine our relationships. I hope it doesn’t change them too much.

I suppose much of the anxiety of going to college results from having to build my own community from the ground up again.... I tell myself the pieces will fall together and everything will be ok, but it doesn’t stop the increasing anxiety from, well, increasing.

I loved this collection of essays, if you haven't read it, I recommend you do. In moving around for so many years, I haven't been able to keep a lot of books in my possession, but I kept this one because that essay really hit home for me, and continues to, no matter what part of life I'm currently experiencing.

I think moving to college did change my relationships. But change is not a bad thing - your childhood friendships, the few of them that survive, end up strengthening and growing into adult friendships. And in the end, isn't that better than not changing at all? I'm hoping that a few of my college friendships will do that too - we'll go from college friends to family friends, and my kids will call them "Aunt" and "Uncle" and they'll grow up watching their parents talk for hours in the front yard before finally getting in the car and leaving for home.

08-13-2016: But hey, this is part of what I signed up for, I knew I wasn’t going to have much of an initial safety net, but I’m sure I’ll survive. We, as humans, always find a way to adapt right?

I think I survived and adapted. Not in the way I saw things going, but we can never really fully predict things, can we? One day, I'll learn to give myself a safety net for the next chapter, I'm sure. Today's not that day though.

Going back to her director's note, there was one more thing that just struck an emotional chord for me:

Fun fact, Alice Wu actually went to MIT for a bit before transferring to Stanford, and then she became a software engineer at Microsoft! I relate a little too much to her. Maybe one day I too will dump coding for my art form. But for now, in this above example, I relate far too much. I worked on my album, Imperfect, a little too obsessively this past winter while trying to digest the throes of heartbreak from one of my own friendships that ended. I still don't know if there was an ending for that friendship. I think I've spent a lot of time trying to put off the end, like a TV series that just keeps adding more and more seasons. Regardless of whether it needs to end or not (which I have not decided and will continue not to do so), I spent a lot of time thinking about who I was before and after that friendship, and I've concluded that a lot of who I am now, what my life looks like now is a result of that friendship. I'll give you a hint: I really like who I am now, compared to who I was before, and it showed me a lot of parts of life and friendship that I never expected would happen. That friendship was (is?) one of the most beautiful things that has happened to me in my life.

Let's finish off this reflective post with a quote from Khalil Gibran, that's kinda related to that point about how transformative the past can be, and how we're far better off in future chapters of our lives because of it.

When you part from your friend, you grieve not;

For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence, as the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain.

Again, if you haven't read his collection of poems, you should absolutely 100% drop whatever you're doing right now and do so! Wow, I really just assigned an entire reading list in this post.

I hope in making this movie, Alice found peace. I would hesitate to say that I found peace when making my album. I wrote a lot of songs about the heartbreak I felt from that whole experience. But the last song I wrote, "Best Friends," ends the whole thing on a positive note, that at the end of the day, I remember how my friends (past and present) literally saved my life and how things are looking a little better, and whatever happens, I hope my best friends will be there waiting for me, whoever they end up being.

- OK I PROMISE I DIDN'T SET OUT TO BE 100% SO EMO -

But yeah, I haven't really been doing much otherwise? I guess just tryna stay alive, I've been cooking a lot and cooking a lot of good good food, I did apply to an MBA program, I got my COVID vaccine (second shot this week!), I am excited to announce I am publishing a paper in my MEng lab, which is a really big accomplishment imo, I am thriving in my (1) econ class that I kept, even though I didn't realize we had readings assigned like for the past month, I went to try pastries from this Turkish bakery, I biked, probably, 15 miles over the past month, I've read at least 4 or 5 books this year so far, and am hoping to knock another one out today. Currently dying because trying to finish my thesis in like . a week, which is looking a little challenging, but I'm sure it'll happen!!!??

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3one3 · 7 years

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The Sequel - 849

Holes

André Schürrle, Juan Mata, other Chelsea/BVB players, and random awesome OC’s (okay they’re less random now but they’re still pretty awesome)

original epic tale

all chapters of The Sequel

“Remember when you said you were going to lift weights this morning?”

“Remember when “morning” happens until noon? I have plenty of time still.”

“Yeah okay.”

“Stop poking my tummy.”

Christina asked for chocolate chip waffles and whipped cream for breakfast. She said she deserved it because Lukas kept her up all night. Thunderstorms were not his favorite thing to experience onboard a boat, even safe in a marina. While he finally got some rest, she devoured chocolate, flour, sugar, and cream in bed in her sweatpants. André had eggs, smoked salmon, and avocado on toast, in significantly smaller quantities than her breakfast. He told her he only even had substantial food to help soak up the alcohol that lingered in his system from the night before. She kept on trucking well after he cleared his plate. He entertained himself by making fun of her.

It was still gray and gloomy outside, and there was some leftover drizzle in the forecast. There was no light coming through the blinds in the master stateroom. Christina was tired of bikinis and lounge chairs and sightseeing anyway. She said she wanted to work out, have a bath, and then hang out in bed all day with Lukas, André, Spencer, Lucky, toys, and Law & Order: SVU reruns. Not only had it felt like an eternity since she last had that opportunity, but that was the first morning she expected that kind of day to actually feel as relaxing and rewarding as it once could. Everything she tried to explain to the player about how she felt being with him was real and true, and while she couldn’t quite understand why that seemingly meant much more to her than it did to him, she was incredibly relieved. She was incredibly grateful to whatever happened in the universe, be it a solitary event or a series of efforts, that allowed sharing the same space as André to feel like her Happy Place™ again.

He was still figuring out how he felt about her explanation. There was no denying that her happiness was dear to him, and that he was relieved to be able to think of her as “out of the woods”, so to speak. The urgency of her uncertainty and chronic depression was gone, and it was a load off his shoulders. There was just no solitary event or series of efforts he could pick out and actually believe led to that situation. He’d been arguing for months that all they needed was for Christina to get on a winning streak and be happy and comfortable in the saddle again, but for some reason he struggled to accept that it worked. To him it was more likely that she experienced some kind of quieting peace sharing her nights and most of each day with Juan, and that that in turn led to better riding. The player hated that he sent a troubled girl who was trying to be happy and clinging to the prospect of a positive streak of good show results and little fighting at home off to Cannes with Juan, and got her back “cured” of all major ailments. Her ankle even seemed less swollen to him at night, and there was no complaining about her knee. In the mean time, while he processed and internalized, just being with Christina was great. She was his best friend.

“How did we even have chocolate chips on the boat?”

“Luke likes these mini ones on his ice cream so it was on the list,” she explained with her mouth full.

“When are you going to wake him up?”

“I’m not. He can sleep as long as he wants. He cried for like three hours straight.”

“My mom says we need to start toilet training.”

“I know. I’m letting Espen handle it. She’s a pro. You have to help her though because you’re the only person in the house who knows how to pee standing up,” the rider winked. “I think she wants to wait until August, when he’ll be home for a while...” Her casual tone became slightly tentative, and she trailed off as if she were leaving something unsaid. Obviously, it was the Olympics. Lukas would be home with his dad and his nanny while Christina went off to Tokyo if she made the team, and there was a little break after the games too and thus no need to travel. If she didn’t get in the team, there would be other shows to attend while her colleagues were in Asia.

“Yeah that’s a good idea,” the footballer nodded. “Dom says the best way is to keep him naked all day so he has nowhere to put the poop.”

“He’s just go on the floor or something. Or he’ll find a towel or a blanket and try to use it like a diaper, and I will be mortified and probably throw up.”

“And I will laugh,” he smiled. “How is your pooping, by the way? I know you have trouble when you’re on the road.”

“Boyfriend. Have I not made it clear that I never want to discuss that with you?” His wife glared at him before shoving another waffle square dripping with melted whipped cream in her mouth.

“Except when you can’t go, and send me 20 messages about how uncomfortable you are and you’re afraid that if you try to push it out it might start to come but it won’t get all the way-“ She reached over the plate in her lap and clamped her hand over his mouth. Then she lifted her other hand to her mouth, still holding her fork, and held her pointer to her lips to shush him. “You are such a baby,” he chided when she withdrew.

“I’m your baby though.” Christina turned a cheesy grin on him and leaned over to kiss his forehead. Then she looked back to make sure she didn’t get any chocolate on him. If she had, she would have licked it off. “Also, I’m ready to try that whole getting off before working out thing.”

“You’re not going to want to have sex after you finish eating that.”

“There are other ways to get off.”

“Like binge-eating waffles?”

“Like...you can put your hand in my undies and I’ll put mine in yours.”

“Maybe you should just take yours off.”

“For easier access?”

“No, because the elastic is holding your waffle-belly in and probably damaging your stomach,” André sniggered.

“You’re the worst.”

“That makes you Mrs. Worst. Want to watch porn?”

“It’s 10 in the morning.”

“So?”

“I dunno. That’s weird. Can you take this? I’m done.” Christina lifted her plate and attempted to hand it off to André, who was no closer to a place to put it than she was. He frowned at her and reluctantly accepted the empty plate anyway. The second he put it down on the tiny nightstand to his left, she asked him to pass over her green juice. He in turn asked if she needed him to digest the food for her too, and “poop it out” after. The rider told him that if he didn’t stop talking about poop, there would be no pre-workout orgasms for anybody.

“Are you going to text Kyle back? You said to remind you,” he yawned as she pulled on the hot pink straw in her glass. Loafing in bed was really quite all right with him too, and he didn’t care that much about the porn or the orgasms, or even the workout for that matter. He was very good at doing nothing, unlike her. His favorite part of doing nothing was snuggling with her, and that was hard to do in the sun. A day indoors sounded nice. It would be his first in a week and a half. He sunk down the low bed, dropped a pillow on Christina’s lap, and violently crashed into it face first as a precursor to finding a comfortable position to stay in.

“No. I forget what I was going to add. I told him to hack Dirk and some of the others and I can’t remember what else I wanted, so whatever,” she yawned back. “Your hair is pretty now.” And I’m-n-a play with it! So fluffy, the lazy girl thought as she dove into his head with all 10 fingers. “I like when it gets Carolyn Kennedy blonde. It’s getting so long all over though.”

“Which Kennedy is Carolyn? I don’t know that one.”

“Carolyn Bessette. She married JFK Jr.. She was also a publicist for Calvin Klein, and Working Girl goals for every WASPy girl in my generation and the one right before mine. Her hair was like white. She died in the plane crash with him. I’ll never forget that day. The day after, actually, because the crash was at night and it wasn’t all over the news until morning. We were getting ready to go to a horse show. It was a Saturday. I think it was Salt River, or St. James or something, out east. Mom put the TV on while she had her coffee or whatever, and the news was flipping out. Then she was flipping out. I think she probably cried. The Kennedy’s were like royalty to people like her.”

“Which plane crash?”

“Seriously? You live under a rock. JFK Jr. crashed his own little private plane off Martha’s Vineyard. The theory is that fog and darkness led to him losing the horizon, and then ending up upside down. It took a few days to find the wreckage. The Kennedy family is totally cursed. He had just raised his profile big time with George Magazine and everything, and he was sooooooo hot. For every girl who was obsessed with Carolyn Bessette, he was like...the Holy Grail of hotness.”

“When was this?”

“1999”

“Your memory is ridiculous.”

“That’s why I worry so much about the future,” Christina replied quietly. Her fingers slowed their entanglement of his platinum and gold hair. “I can never forget the mistakes and problems of the past.”

“I know, pretty girl,” André replied just as quietly. He moved his left hand between her legs, just above her knees- not for any sexual purposes, but just to leave tucked in there, in the warmth of her sweatpants, where she might take it as comforting. “How many times have you seen this episode? Can you recite the dialogue?”

“No, but I remember the plot,” she chuckled back, allowing him to go ahead and steer them away from the solemn moment. “I know who did it.”

“Well don’t tell me.”

“K.”

“Does my hair feel nice or does it need coconut oil?”

“It’s very nice.”

“Good. Where is your juice right now if both of your hands are in my head?”

“Balanced precariously on top of your pillow and against my chest. My boobs are like a nice cradle. But if you move, the sheets are gonna be green.”

“Good to know.”

What was I trying to remember to tell Kyle, the equestrian wondered after a minute of silent TV-watching. A glance at her phone on the bed beside her failed to jog her memory. It did make her think of Juan though, because she owed him a text too and was intentionally waiting until a bit later in case he was sleeping in. I miss him. I’m not supposed to miss him when I’m with Schü and everything is great, but I really miss him. Mostly just his face. And his laugh. And what happens to his face when he laughs. He said he’s down with my Mallorca and Ibiza plan, so I’ll see him soon though. Oh, you know what? I should ask him if he knows any Chelsea transfer secrets, like why they haven’t signed ANYBODY yet. And on that subject, I wonder how long boyfriend can keep suppressing his need to tell me all his hopes and fears about his new manager. I don’t know anything about this Bosz character except that his team was a total fucking embarrassment in the Europa League Final. And that he coached the Chelsea Youth B Team AKA Vitesse. No big clubs. Ajax isn’t a big club anymore. And he hasn’t won anything. What were they thinking, Christina groaned inside. At the same time, her insides groaned too.

“Uhoh, is all the poop about to come now?” André teased when he heard the rumble.

“No. It’s just my organs rehydrating. They were severely dehydrated from all the alcohol last night.”

“Uhhuh.”

“Do you think Lucks and Spence went out drinking last night too? They haven’t moved in like 45 minutes. What if they’re dead?” his girl questioned absently before withdrawing her fingers from his unruly locks so that she could have another big sip of her juice. He was correct. She was feeling short on fiber since arriving on the boat. Her juice was full of spinach and kale. She was also feeling pins and needles in her legs because they were stuck between footballer and snoozing terriers.

“I can hear Lucky snoring through the blanket,” the footballer yawned.

“Are you gonna be snoring momentarily too?”

“I don’t know. It’s honestly a tough choice between mutual masturbation and a nap.”

“I’m kiiiiiiiind of leaning toward nap,” Christina admitted. “And can you move for a second so I can put a pillow under my knees?”

There was a nap. It lasted for one and three-quarter episodes of SVU. Then the dogs needed to go out, and Lukas was up, and phones were ringing and vibrating, and the world was trying to butt into Stay In Bed Time. The baby got to eat, the business calls were dealt with, the dogs went for a walk with Espen, and then Christina said she absolutely had to go work out. André wanted to keep up with his routine too. They told Lukas they needed an hour and then they’d watch The Little Mermaid with him. He liked the songs. And he was very understanding. Besides, he had his nanny to play with him, and his Toy Fox Terriers. His dad wanted to play with his mom when her exercising became too distracting for him to do his own.

I did not know when I realized the annoying feeling in my stomach after I talked to her the first day was butterflies that if I invited the girl with the great legs, fantastic ass, tits with potential to be nice if they weren’t held prisoner in a sports bra, small waist, and pizza tummy to be my partner that she would one day have even sexier legs, a tighter ass, the most nom-tastic neck and shoulder and whatever the rest of that space under her face is called area, and a stomach that is so perfectly sculpted that it’s just disgustingly sexy and all I want to do is hold her waist and squeeze it while I fuck her. I should get some kind of special prize for investing early. I mean, look at her. Ridiculous. How does she keep it so that her stomach has JUST the right amount of definition? It would be gross if she had abs like mine. She just has lines. They’re soooooo perfect. I want to pour water on her just to watch it run off in the channels, the footballer reflected while he watched Christina do burpees with free weights.

There wasn’t a lot to work with on the boat, because there wasn’t a lot of room, exercise equipment is heavy, and everything had to be securable no matter the speed at which Lilly XO traveled or the type of seas through which she went. In addition to a limited set of dumbbells, there was a high-end treadmill, a pull-up bar, a punching bag, and some yoga mats. André almost tripped and experienced a tragic treadmill accident multiple times while he stared at his girl’s torso each time she popped up from the floor and lifted her hands and the weights above her head. The definition of her abdominal muscles changed in that process. The horizontal lines appeared at maximum stretch, while in any other position it was just the vertical ones that were most apparent. To him it was like her 6-pack was playing peekaboo. She was all tan, and shiny with sweat, and it was mesmerizing. She worked out in stretchy boyshorts and a sports bra, so he could see pretty much all of her legs too. Her thighs did a satisfying jiggle when she jumped in the air, even though it didn’t seem like she had enough mass to jiggle. It was just her muscles letting go once they’d achieved the jump, and preparing for the landing. He almost marveled at her form.

How does she recreate the exact repetition every time? She never looks tired. She doesn’t do two bad ones because she’s tired and then fix it and do them right again, and she never changes the rhythm even a little bit. Gym Prinzessin is a machine. When was the last time I watched this? I’ve watched her do stretching by the pool, and her on-the-floor ab routine, and the stuff she does for her Swiss cheese ankles. We’ve run together at the house. When was the last time I watched her lift or do her intervals, André asked himself while scanning his memory. Then Christina allowed herself to collapse on the floor instead of jumping again, and wailed something about wanting to die. Her right cheek was on the sealed floor, so she could look out to the water. The gym was also part of the “toy” room, where the scuba gear and some other fun stuff lived, and had a big “door” that could be lowered out into the water like another deck, called the “tender port”. The jet skis were in there too, on a hoist system that made it easy to drop them into the water and pick them back up again. It was open for the view and to let some of the extreme air conditioning out. Water splashed up onto the wood deck each time a boat passed by on its way in or out of the basin.

“Don’t quit now,” André said with an encouraging clap. “You said you wanted to work on your thighs too, for the pain.”

“Yeah. Soon,” came the rider’s breathless reply. She was thinking about what Captain Theo mentioned to her about a regatta for boats like hers only, called the Perini Navi Cup. He said all “the others” went. The Italian manufacturer didn’t make that many boats, of course, and Christina was one of the weird outlier owners. Apparently the other lucky sailors all wanted to get together to see their brethren. The event included races, which the captain said were serious but not like the most hardcore regatta in the world as most of the crews in charge of Perini sailing yachts are there to provide a luxury cruising experience rather than pilot for extreme performance. He said most of the captains were more likely to win hospitality awards than get in the America’s Cup, for example. Some owners apparently brought in different crews and a tactician for the regatta though, to be more competitive. Rosehearty, a 56m boat just like hers but a few years older, was the reigning champion. Captain Theo brought up the Cup as if he was presenting a social opportunity for her- to get to know the other owners, meet the family that built her vessel, see the other boats, and enjoy wine and cocktail-themed parties- but Christina could see a twinkle in his eye too. He definitely wanted to show people what Lilly XO could do. She looked across the harbor at the many smaller sailboats lined up in front of the cafes, and wondered what a boat show would be like, as a way of distracting from the pain in her muscles and lungs. She loved walking around any port to check out the boats. An actual boat show did sound fun. Not moving was also a lot of fun in that moment.

“Want some water?” her workout buddy offered. Unfortunately he also tossed the full bottle to her without waiting for a response, and it arrived just as she rose up on her arms. It clunked her in the back of her shoulder. He meant for it to land near her, not on her. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!”

“Ow, fuuuuuuck that hurt,” Christina grumbled upon laying back down on her cheek. “Why you do dis, boyfriend?”

“I’m sorry!” André switched off the treadmill and scurried over to her to apologize properly, and to kiss her shoulder. She was sweaty and gross and he regretted the kiss as much as the accident. “Want me to put the bottle on the booboo? It’s cold.”

“No.”

“Okay. I’m sorry.”

“I’ll survive, probably.”

“I’m going to get a yoga mat for you so you can do the thigh lifts and things.”

“Why are you trying to be my fitness coach?” She rolled over onto her back before the textured floor could leave an imprint on her face, and because her chest felt uncomfortably smooshed.

“I’m not. I just like watching you exercise. Your body is amazing.”

“Thanks,” Christina yawned. “Yours ain’t too bad either. But your thighs could use some work too. You should do this with me. It’s a shame I don’t have another set of ankle weights.”

André decided he could humor her, and pulled up a mat for himself too. She’d packed both her medium and high resistance bands, and, being a gentleman, he volunteered to use the more difficult one for their various exercises. They did each one on the opposite side so they could face each other and talk. The first one required lying on their side and then propping up on an elbow, using the other hand in front of the body for stability, and then using the strength of their obliques and inner thigh muscles to lift their feet off the floor, with the band around both legs just above the knee. Then the top leg was raised to stretch the band, and lowered back together, in a quick but controlled rhythm. The second version was the equestrian’s least favorite. She lifted the top leg a few inches and then raised the bottom one up to meet it, even more quickly than the other version. It made the “round and juicy” muscle in the middle of the inside of her upper thigh tickle from the inside out. Then came two clamshell exercises- one regular, and one suspended, and the corkscrew lift. They took a stretching break, which André used to simulate holding his girl’s tiny waist between her open knees and fucking her, and then it was on to the things meant to help the tightness in her adductor. She lay on her side again, up on her elbow, with her top leg bent so that her foot was flat on the floor behind the bottom one, which was then lifted up for a two-count and then lowered back down for two. After 30 seconds, she held it in the raised position and moved it up and down just a little, very fast. He could do all of that and hold a conversation about spending another night in St. Tropez as if he were just lying still on the couch. The last test for each leg was circles- lifting that bottom leg straight up, opening it forward, bringing it down, and then pulling it back in before repeating the circuit. Switching the circle in the other direction was the worst. It was much harder to lift the leg when it was open out in front. Annoyingly, the football player didn’t seem to think any of the exercises were difficult. He was never taxed.

“You’re done?” he questioned with feigned surprise when Christina started pulling the Velcro open to take off her ankle weights.

“Yeah. I’m trying not to do anything with my ankle. The burpees are bad enough for it. I want to give it a real break. My knee, too.”

“That’s good, pretty girl. I have a little more to do. You should go have your shower. I’ll be up there by the time you’re done.”

“K. Do you want a post-workout snack or smoothie? I’m probably not gonna take a bath.”

“Nah but save me some hot water, yeah?”

She administered a see-you-in-a-bit kiss and then climbed the stairs to the main deck, stepped down the stairs into the outdoor sitting area, and went inside to assure Lukas that she’d be right with him. He was sticking Play Dough to a dinosaur figurine and couldn’t have cared less. He paid no attention to his dad stopping for a sweaty kiss 10 minutes later either, and that was good for his dad because he was in a hurry to get to the shower.

Good, I didn’t miss her, he thought as soon as he heard he water running. The workout ended abruptly when he realized he wanted to get in the shower with Christina more than he wanted to work on his fitness. She was literally rubbing a soapy washcloth between her butt cheeks when he flung the glass door open, which caused surprise and blushing on her part and smiley laughter for his.

“Why are you here?” she complained.

“Because foreplay.” André shut the door behind him and stepped closer so he could smooch her and grab both breasts at the same time. The shower was rectangular, and big enough that two people could stand completely out of the water streams, or even sit down on the wide tiled ledge designed specifically for that purpose, when the space was used for steam instead of water. Christina was already standing clear of the water to give the conditioner in her hair a chance to work its magic while she scrubbed everything else, including her chest. Soapy breasts were among the player’s favorite kind.

“Okay but you have to get clean too,” his girl warned. “No just rinsing.”

“Do you want to soap up my dick for me?”

“Not especially,” she laughed. “And can you move? I need to rinse the soap out of my butt.”

I’ll help! André switched places with her and then aided by holding her butt cheeks apart so the water would run in between. Usually she does this too, but she bends over a lot and tries to get the water to hit her lower back and then run down. I think it gets all the way to her pussy that way. The water isn’t very warm though. She probably only likes that when it’s really hot. I’ll help with the boobs too, he thought once her back was rinsed and it was time to do the front. He kissed her left ear while helping to push coconut-scented suds down her breasts and stomach. It tasted like lemon and chemicals, from the conditioner. Kissing is really not for the shower, he realized not for the first time. The shower is more about touching. Prinzessin is all roll her eyes and laugh away my foreplay right now. I want her melting into the touching, so that we can do the kissing when we get out.

“Babe, stop with my belly button and wash your hair.” Christina passed him the Kevin Murphy Balancing Wash and swiveled round again to scrub her face with a green paste full of sea salt and avocado, among other things.

Fine. I’ll wash my hair and then I’ll wash my cock and she won’t be able to resist touching me, the player reasoned. He was discounting how turned off she was by flaccidity. In fact, she paid less attention to him than Lukas did when he passed through the lounge. He gave up and waited until they were all done and his wife was about to transition from towel-drying her body to moisturizer application.

“Prinzessin.”

“Wha?”

“Stop for a second,” he requested, polite but firm. He secured a towel around his waist and bent down to hold onto hers with both of his big and newly softened hands, and leaned in to plant his lips on hers. After about three seconds, the rider lifted up on the ball of one foot so she could reach around his neck. The toes of the other foot behind helped her get just a little taller. His hands moved around to her lower back, and then her butt, and he briefly considered lifting her up onto the vanity directly behind her. I doubt she’s in a fuck-me-on-the-bathroom-counter mood, especially since she just got clean and dry. I’m not really in that mood either. I want to be with her, not just fuck her. We got so drunk last night, when we had sex we were so sloppy. Before that I was thinking about being with her and seeing if there was a palpable difference since she decided she’s happy with me again and everything is roses. I want to know if there has been as much missing from our sex life as there was missing from her complexion and her smiles and her laughs. “Come to bed, baby,” he urged when she released her heavy, yolk-like hold around his neck and let her palms slide down over his shoulders instead. It was her choice to break the kiss at the same time, but she kept her face in kissing-range. Her nose bumped into his a little as she lowered to the flat of her feet.

“Yeah,” Christina nodded. André let her out from between him and the vanity where she left her towel falling out of the sink. Her hair was really too wet to get in bed but that wasn’t so important. He wanted her to sit on his lap anyway, so it was just his wet hair dripping onto the pillows he pushed up against the headboard. She settled in the requested spot as soon as he ditched his towel, and he pulled the comforter over his legs and up to her behind, drawing it closer to him around her, so she was sort of enveloped in it but he could still see and touch all her best bits. He held her waist again, because that was what turned him on so much in the first place, and she leaned on his shoulders so that she could kiss him, because that’s what she liked best in that moment. She liked the soft and gentle way he smooched her in the shower and in the bathroom- not hungry, not passive, not invasive- just very soft. It wasn’t indecisive, testing, tentative, or cautious, nor overly confident, demanding, or brusque. It was just right. It was just kissing for the sake of kissing, and loving.

“You’re my best friend,” André muttered when the kiss had to stop because Christina’s hair got caught on the button on her bracelet. “You know when we were separated and you said it felt like you had a hole, like something was missing from yourself?”

“Yes...Why?” she asked dubiously while untangling her hair from her wrist. Then something occurred to her. “I’ve felt like that for most of the last year too, but I didn’t know what was missing. I didn’t know the shape of the hole. The time you’re talking about, the hole was Schü shaped.”

“I know, baby. I know. I’ve had a Chris hole for a long time. You’re part of me, in here.” The player worked his right hand between their bodies so he could pat his heart, and she flinched inside. Her last very serious conversation with Juan was very similar. He held his fist over his heart and said she lived in there even when she wasn’t around. Very quickly, she pictured a silhouette of herself being carved from André’s heart and pushed into the Spaniard’s. She couldn’t imagine there being two of her- enough to go round. She could only really be in one heart at a time. The bit added to the heart couldn’t be stretched or duplicated, but the heart could expand to accommodate more. Hers had grown to fit the André cutout and the Juan cutout too. It was crowded in there for sure, and didn’t feel quite right- kind of like her stomach after all the waffles. But she wanted them both there, and getting them there was satisfying and enjoyable and she didn’t want either of them to go. Meanwhile, the bigger of the two shapes in her heart was watching her face and stroking her sides with his thumb. “I’m very, very grateful that the hole is gone now. I’m very, very grateful to have best friend back.”

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