by Mj Hendrix
My arms release her, feeling the emptiness overcoming me.
Reality crashes in, and I suddenly feel despicable. She’s just been visited by some vile man from her past, who clearly took advantage of her.
Now, I’ve got her in the shower, about to have sex with her when we haven’t even been on a date yet. How am I any different from that scumbag?
I stand up straighter, pulling the curtain back.
“You’re right. I’m sorry,” is all I can manage before stepping out into the cold, grabbing my towel to dry off. I’ll do better. I’ll prove to her she has infinite, immeasurable value to me.
“Adam, come on,” she says, stepping out of the shower in her underwear, soaking wet.
The animalistic urge to claim her roars inside me again, and I have to turn away.
“Please get dressed. We have somewhere to be,” I clip, my voice sounding much harsher than I intended. I hand her a dry towel from under the sink.
“Yes, sir,” she mumbles, and I have no idea why I like it.
She walks back into the room, still wrapped in a towel. I take much longer to get dressed than necessary, but I really need her to have clothes on, so my jeans will actually fit right.
I eventually swing open the door to see her in tiny cutoffs and a shirt with only one shoulder covered and several inches of stomach exposed. I will never get through this day, seeing so much leg and no bra strap. I take in several deep breaths as I watch her dab a dark red lipstick on her plump lips. It’s a riveting sight, and I wonder if she wants me to stop watching her.
Kenna sneaks past me into the bathroom. I’m standing in the center of the room like a statue, staring like a perverted old man. I scrape a hand over my scalp.
“I’m gonna go wait in the truck, okay? No rush. Wear good shoes,” I grab my keys.
She nods at me in the mirror.
Walking down to the truck, I feel like my head clears up a bit. Being around Harley is a physical need, but I feel like it mentally cripples me.
I look up at the sky as I walk out of the dorm, shooting a prayer up for some kind of clarity of how I can help her. She’s in danger, and the helplessness I feel is making me antsy. Something catches my eye around the skyline, and it’s like a light switch flicks on inside my brain.
Once I climb into my truck, I drive over to the campus police station nearby. I run in, hoping she still needed a few more minutes to doll herself up.
“Can I help you, son?” the small man in a black uniform at the front desk asks me. He’s older with thinning white hair and a large nose.
“Yes, last night, some men showed up in the girls’ dorm. I was taking care of my…friend, so my buddies came in here to report it,” I say.
“The tattooed fellas?” he questions, bushy brows squinching up.
I nod, holding my breath.
He bobs his head. “Yep, we got the report. Ain’t seen any of the likes of them though. Not much else we can do,” he says, sipping on a Styrofoam cup.
“Yes, sir, I understand. I actually wanted to know if you had security tapes though—maybe of the parking lot outside Bailey Hall?” I know there are—at least I saw the cameras high up on the light poles.
He squints at me, slowly setting the cup down. “Well, I guess we might.” His eyes twinkle. “But I can’t just go around, showing security footage to every young man who asks for it. This wouldn’t happen to be about a little lady, would it?” He grins at me, clearly in need of some motivation to help me.
I sigh longingly. It’s not fake.
“Yes, sir, it is. My…well, she’s just a friend really”—that lie is getting old—“but she’s in danger. Those men are from her past, and I think…I know they hurt her. I need to see if I can get their license plates to find out who they were and”—I blow out a breath—“I have to protect her.” I plead with my eyes, rubbing my hands together.
His gray eyes are focused on me, drawn into every word. He reaches a wrinkled hand out to pat my shoulder. “Well, son, if that isn’t the sweetest thing I’ve heard in a minute.” He shakes his head, eyes going distant. “I lost my wife…too many years ago. She was a wild little thing, and…she’d been hurt before meeting me. I was just a young police officer back then…”
I shuffle my feet, thinking of Harley wondering where I am.
“I answered the call to her—” He cuts off, looking back at me and smiling. “Ahh, I know you must be in a bit of a rush; it’s always that way with a woman. Let me say this.” He looks around tentatively, leaning forward and lowering his voice. “I’ll check back over the footage and see if this old retired blue can dig through like a pro again, eh? Our secret.” He winks at me, pushing a little yellow pad and pen toward me.
I write my name and number and the time when I saw the intruders.
“This is when I saw them, but they’d already been there long enough to find her hall,” I set my jaw at the memory of it. “Thank you so much, Mr.—”
He smiles again, taking the notepad. “Call me Russ; they all do.” He folds the paper up and places it in his breast pocket before patting over it, making me smile.
“Russ, thanks again. Please call me if you find anything.”
We shake hands, and he raises his arm in a good-bye as I rush back to my date with a siren.
29
Harley
If he abandoned me on a date once again, I will do serious damage to his…something. I will find something he loves and…his truck.
I will go Carrie Underwood on his sweet, little baby-blue Chevy, and he will have to grovel on his hands and knees through the wreckage to—
There it is, pulling up with a sexy baby Brad Pitt in the driver’s seat. He hops out, rushing toward me and grabbing my hands.
“Baby, I’m so sorry. I had to…” He trails off, looking down and sighing. “I went over to the campus police and—”
I rise up on my toes to press a quick kiss to his lips. “I forgive you, just don’t do it again. I thought you had abandoned me,” I say. The mere mention of the police makes my stomach cramp from bad memories.
Walking up to the truck to pat the hood, I silently apologize for my threats of headlight-smashing violence. He runs ahead of me to open the passenger door, watching me climb in. I breathe in the old-car smell.
Once he’s back on the driver side his muscled forearms flex as he starts to manhandle the gearshift. I’m squirming in my seat, and I lean up to adjust the AC. He’s wearing the jeans with natural worn holes and a white T-shirt with a faded yellow deer jumping on the front. I wonder if farmers also hunt, and I realize I know very little about his former life.
“I will not ever abandon you,” he says with conviction, bringing my thoughts back to the present.
His eyes are studying the road, and mine are studying his skin.
What would it be like to have someone in my life to depend on?
“So…where are we going?” I ask, attempting not to sound too overexcited to spend the day with him.
He grins, making my heart trip over itself. “Are you hungry?”
I nod vigorously. “Yes, please, food and caffeine first.”
He reaches over the seat to grab for my hand, intertwining our fingers and resting them on the polyester seat. I sigh, leaning my head back, hair lifting up around me in the fresh morning air. The windows are down, and the sky is blue. I’ve never been happier.
We’re the youngest patrons in the tiny Mexican restaurant. We both order the same giant egg, bacon, and cheese burrito, but Adam has to finish mine off. We act like we’ve done this a hundred times. The coffee is subpar, but the company is superb. He swipes for the check as soon as the waitress drops it off.
We’re back in the truck, driving along the busier streets, headed somewhere I’ve never been. He’s a beautiful portrait, hanging in some rich rancher’s house. Classic country boy wearing white and denim, driving an old, beat-up pickup. I’m leaning back against the passenger seat, watching him take control. I don’t
have to worry about anything; the map is in his mind. Our fingers are playing with each other the way we wish our whole bodies were.
It’s like we’re past talking now. We both know what we’re thinking and feeling. The sounds of traffic and the mid-Saturday city bustle is just enough to keep us from losing our heads from the tension.
We finally pull up to our destination, and I squeal embarrassingly at the sight of it.
“Ahh, finally!” I jump out of the truck, not waiting on him to open my door like he has been all day.
He bellows a laugh, following me in through the open doorway. The interior is a rainforest; every shade of green that God created is speckled through the rows of plants. My favorite color, obviously. I adore the ones so rich they almost glow. I’m obsessed with checking magazines to read about the species of plants still being discovered to this day.
He follows me through the nursery, silently shadowing my obsessive evaluation of each and every one. I take time to read about their care, where they originated from, and what climate they thrive in.
“Why do you love plants so much?” he asks curiously. He bends over to pick up a discarded Styrofoam cup on the ground, throwing it in a nearby garbage can.
“They have to be cared for just so, or they die. But some of them don’t; they’re resilient to the elements. Like succulents. They go so long without water you’d think there’s no way they could survive. And yet…they do. They don’t need much. Others need just the right amount of sun, water, fertilization…I guess you know all this,” I say, turning away in embarrassment.
He gently grips my arm, turning me back. “I just think of them as something to grow to make a living. I’ve never thought of them as something to love.”
He lifts my hand to press a kiss to it, eyes trained on me. It starts out innocent until his mouth hovers over my hand, and it suddenly feels intimate.
“Well, they’re…it’s…” I suck in as he starts to kiss up my arm, slowly pulling me toward him.
We’re in the back part of the nursery, the display of leafy ferns concealing us from most of the light-filled greenhouse. He’s pulling me closer, never breaking eye contact. I feel like I’m underwater, unable to take in oxygen. His gaze has darkened. His lips are half-kissing, half-sucking on my sensitive skin. He pulls my hand all the way around to rest on his lower back, positioning me right where he wants me, flush against his solid body. His other hand reaches up under my loose hair, cradling the back of my head with strong fingers.
“I’m going to kiss you again,” he says, voice husky.
Please do. I nod.
Footsteps start to shuffle toward us, and we hear a startled gasp to our left.
“Oh my! I’m so, so sorry to, um, interrupt. I—”
We jolt, stepping back from each other quickly, like toddlers caught going for the cookie jar.
“I just wanted to look at the, er, ferns, but I can—” the older woman goes on, her hands clasped in front of her face, trying to conceal a smile.
We must look picture-perfect, kissing in the foliage.
“Actually, would you, uh, take a photo of us real quick?” I blurt out, fishing my phone out of my back pocket and handing it to her.
She smiles, nodding with bright eyes. “Of course. You two are just so adorable. Okay, stand back like you were.”
She raises my phone, her cheeks round from the enormous grin she’s wearing. We obey, Adam clearly stiffer now that we have company.
“Put your hand back on her neck like it was before,” the woman instructs, taking her photographer role quite seriously.
He obliges, and I give him a little peck for encouragement. He zeroes in on my lips, wanting more. I laugh, and he pulls me forward again.
“Just like that. You two are naturals.” She must be clicking away, moving around us like the paparazzi.
Adam presses his forehead to mine, inching closer, breathing heavier. I press up on my toes, lips meeting his anxiously.
He keeps it PG even though I attempt to drive him up a notch. He won’t let me push my tongue through, but I can feel how much he wants it. I suck on his bottom lip, and he pulls back, panting. I smile innocently as he lets me go, turning to the woman with stars in her eyes.
He reaches out for the phone. “Thank you, ma’am. We appreciate it.” His voice is a tad deeper than usual.
She nods, actual tears wetting her cheeks. “I wish you two a life full of happiness together!” She wipes away the moisture, sniffling.
“Um, thank you, miss,” he says, and I follow him out of the aisle to leave her alone with the ferns.
His hand is still clutching mine, but he turns back to give me my phone.
“You can’t help but be bad,” he murmurs, his face not at all conveying disappointment as he stares at my lips again. “Let’s go to the truck.”
I think he must mean to pick up where we left off, so I agree, nodding enthusiastically. Once we reach the Chevy, he pulls me toward the driver side.
“Do you know how to drive a standard?” he asks, opening the door.
“I don’t know how to drive anything.” I reach up to wrap my arms around his neck.
“You’ve never driven at all?”
I shake my head as his eyes dip toward my lips.
“Well, would you like to learn?”
I nod, a tingle crawling through my belly. He gestures for me to get in, slamming the door shut and walking to the passenger side. The vehicle moves with his weight.
“So, I leave mine in first gear while it’s parked, so if you’re not careful turning it on, we’ll lurch forward. That down there is the clutch.” He’s pointing at a little pedal. “The middle one is the brakes, and right side is the gas. In an automatic, you won’t have a clutch.” He shifts a little closer, smelling divine. “You want to press the clutch and the brakes down while you turn the key.” Now, he’s pointing at the stick coming up from the floorboard.
“This pickup used to have a three on the tree, up by the steering wheel, but I modified it to be down here in the middle,” he says.
“Okay, you lost me,” I say, placing my hand on the gearshift.
“Sorry…doesn’t matter. So, you need to be pressing on the clutch and the brakes while you turn the key, then you’ll slowly lift from the clutch while pressing the gas.”
I stare at him blankly, looking back down at my feet. “I’m going to kill us and everyone in this parking lot if I try to do whatever you just said.”
He laughs. “Okay, let’s switch places and drive out to the silos, where it’s a deserted road.”
“Sounds like a plan, Farm Boy.” I scoot over, turning to face him and straddling his hips. I plant a quick kiss on his jaw before flipping back around to sit in the passenger seat. “Let’s get this show on the road, but stop for food on the way.”
30
Adam
The date’s going exactly like I planned. Harley is everything I never knew I wanted and so much more. I always thought I’d marry a girl from my hometown, someone quiet and demure. Then, she came blazing into my life, setting fire to my expectations of what I want in a woman. Now, I know why no one I knew back then ever tempted me. Sometimes, I used to wonder if I would get married.
My fear is that she doesn’t want to. I think that’s why she left the campsite.
She’s curled up next to me, her tattooed hand wrapped around my waist, face pressed to my chest. The truck has slowed to a leisurely pace as we make our way down the back roads leading to the silos. I want to prolong the perfection of this moment with her.
She sits up as I pull to a stop, cutting the engine.
“Is it my turn to drive now?”
“In a minute,” I respond, stroking my thumb over her upper thigh.
She stills, turning her baby blues up to stare at me.
“Are you going to be mad if I wreck your truck?” she whispers. Her lips are stained from the color she put on this morning in my room.
“No. But let’s
try not to do that.” I press a tiny kiss to her forehead, my mind returning against my will to the shower we shared this morning.
She laughs. “Okay, let’s do it! I’m ready to manhandle this baby.”
She slaps the dashboard. Then, she moves toward me, sitting directly on my lap in front of the steering wheel.
“Uh…you…” My brain short-circuits.
She wiggles, torturing me. “I think it’ll make more sense if you can show me like this. I’ll put my feet on yours, and you can show me as we go,” she says, her raspy voice not helping my depraved thought process.
There’s no safe place for my hands.
“Hmm…I don’t think…” I start to say, clearing my throat. “I can try,” I finally get out.
We’re going to die.
Several seconds tick by as I try to remember how to drive the truck I’ve owned since I was fifteen. She waits patiently.
Blowing out a breath, I lean forward, my lips nearly connecting with her bare, inviting shoulder.
“So, you want to start like I said before. The truck is already in first gear. Press the clutch and the brakes while you turn the key.” I start to demonstrate, but she stops me.
“Hold on a second,” she kicks her shoes off and places her feet on top of my boots, her hands covering mine.
Her legs are split apart, butt pressed to my groin.
Sweet baby Moses, how am I going to keep us alive for this?
I have to focus. I clear my throat again, hoping it clears up the fuzzy part of my mind.
“So, it goes like this.” I follow my instincts since my thoughts aren’t connecting right, and the old engine roars awake.
“Okay, got that part. How do we go? Push the gas?” she says excitedly, bouncing a little on my lap.
This has to stop, or we actually will die. I focus all my energy on how to keep the truck from moving, but my blood doesn’t want to redirect to my brain.
