Firsts: Book One’s

by Moore, Portia

  “I used to bartend a block from here and this was my lunch and dinner.”

  “So do you bring all your coworkers here and order everything on the menu?” I chuckle.

  “Nope, just one so far. I kind of want to impress her,” he responds, not missing a beat. I give a playful eye roll.

  “And why would you want to do that?” I ask him.

  “Because she’s frustratingly oblivious to how beautiful she is and most girls I meet are overly aware.” That makes me bite my lip.

  “But what if she’s insane?”

  “All women are a little bit crazy.”

  “Oh, a misogynist are we?” I ask with a huff, folding my arms across my chest.

  “Nope just honest.”

  “Honest? Well tell me, what do you want from me tonight?”

  He gives me a mischievous grin.

  “Of course what all guys want, you’ve just been more intriguing about it,” I joke.

  “I definitely want that,” he says his voice gloriously husky and his expression glittering with mischief. Then it softens.

  “But I don’t need it now. I want to know why you’re here, where you’re from, what makes you angry, what puts a smile on your face, pisses you off. Then maybe I can figure out why, since I first saw you, I can’t get you out of my head.”

  I swallow hard, because his expression is full of sincerity. I want to tell him I can’t get him out of mine either, that the version of him that’s in my thoughts is a welcome distraction to the man who had built a kingdom there, however, that’s a complicated answer to a dilemma I don’t want to deal with right now.

  “So you don’t want just sex?” I ask him, changing the subject to a shallower topic than the deeper point he brought up.

  “If I like you, no,” he admits with a grin.

  “If you like me? I sure hope so since you’ve bought the entire menu,” I tease him.

  “I haven’t been on a date in a while. I’ve got some money saved up,” he teases back.

  “So this is a date?” I ask him with mock surprise.

  “I take it back; I don’t want to scare you away,” he says, his eyes flickering with amusement.

  “That might not be such a bad thing,” I tell him quietly.

  “It’d be horrible…you’d be the one that got away.” My heart is thudding; I wipe my palms on my jeans. There is something between us. It was there even when I first saw him in Miami, but what it is, I have no clue. It could be something terrible drawing us to one another… or something amazing.

  Or is it just a game that men see me as something to catch? Is that what draws them to me?

  The chase. A prize they have to win. The unlucky ones catch me and realize they can’t keep me and the one person I wanted to win was disqualified. Maybe love is just a game, life a screwed up game rigged for you to eventually get your heart broken. It’s just a question of whose breaks first.

  “And let me guess, you’d be inconsolable if I did?” I giggle trying to downplay what he just said.

  “Devastated,” he says with a heart-stopping smile. I play with the napkin on the table. I’ve never been nervous around guys, always priding myself on being a huge flirt and saying exactly what’s on my mind. I can’t do that with this one because what’s on my mind is biased since I don’t know if it’s a side effect from heartbreak.

  This is new territory for me and I don’t necessarily trust myself knowing that my heart isn’t made of steel. I can be broken just like the poor girls I used to pity.

  “Well, we’re at an impasse. You want something that I can’t give you so how do we fix it?” I ask him and he gives me a playful frown and stretches his long body in the booth before leaning on the table.

  “And why can’t you give it to me? You’re single, right?” he asks.

  “It’s not that simple,” I tell him. He narrows those magnetizing eyes on me.

  “Tell me what’s complicated then?” I pull off my ponytail holder I had keeping my hair in place and let it free. I exhale and decide to just let it out, to show him my cards. And I know this will scare him off. Guys don’t like girls who talk too much about their feelings or that are damaged, so this should send him running for the hills.

  “I’ve only been in love once I think.”

  “You think?” he interrupts me with an arched brow but a reassuring smile.

  “Yes, it kind of went wrong before I figured it out. Maybe it’s better to say that I could have been love.”

  “That’s the better answer,” he tells me with a small grin.

  “Excuse me?” I ask with a chuckle. He brings his gaze to mine and holds it.

  “Because if you were in love, it wouldn’t be a question. It’s unmistakable. You can’t run or hide from it, it’s all over you,” he tells me solemnly as I search his eyes, and for the first time I look beyond the great smile, perfect teeth, strong jaw, and full thick hair.

  I look in his eyes and I think, This Greek god of a man has been hurt before, or scarred? Was he someone’s Ryan? Or worse…was he someone’s me?

  “You sound like an expert,” I tell him and he gives me a one-shoulder shrug.

  “I wouldn’t say that but I’ve experienced it once.” The light almost dims from his eyes.

  “What happened?”

  “You first,” he counters and plays with the spoon on the table.

  “He was married,” I reply, not meeting his eyes. And it’s as simple as that, there’s nothing else to say. When I look at him he nods.

  “She took what I wanted most in the world,” he says just as simply though I know there’s a bigger explanation that should be given. I leave it since I don’t think either of us should pick over old wounds. A server brings chips and salsa in front of us along with our drinks.

  “Okay, a toast.” He lifts his glass and I lift mine.

  “To being in the broken hearts club, or the almost broken hearts club,” I announce.

  “I’m running for president?” he jokes.

  “Oh hunny I’ve already won by a landslide,” I tease him.

  Over Mexican food and house liquor we talk for hours. The food is devoured from all ten dishes. We talk about music and movies, friends we have and ones we lost, dreams we achieved and failed at. I haven’t talked to anyone like this in so long…and never with a guy. A guy who looks like him and wants to sleep with me. That fact is clear from the way his gaze falls on my lips, and how our legs under the table touch, his leaning on mine, and how I don’t adjust them because it feels good.

  Alex has lived in New York for six years and is about ready for something different, he turned 27 four weeks ago and only had two official girlfriends his entire life: one in the fifth grade whose parents moved away, and the girl who broke his heart. It makes me wonder if he’s attracted to women who are destined to disappoint him. I wonder if that’s why fate has it that he’s ended up here next to me, but fate can kiss a dick because I won’t be the one to break his heart. Or even take it. I like Alex and I know I’m not in a place to see if this could be more. Knowing what heartbreak feels like, what it really does to a person. I wouldn’t want to inflict that on my worst enemy let alone someone who I actually like.

  “So we’re at an impasse,” he tells me with a lazy smile.

  “Two jaded people who are…”

  “Extremely attracted to each other,” he finishes my sentence, eyes on mine, his voice low and offering temptation…and every part of me throbs.

  “How do you know I’m attracted to you?” I ask teasingly as I suck the last bit of my margarita through my straw. He leans in, his broad body weighing down the table.

  “If I kissed you, you would kiss me back,” he whispers, a challenge in his eyes. I gulp hard.

  “But there’s not going to be any kissing.”

  “More margaritas will fix that,” Oliver announces and we both laugh as he lays the bill on the table.

  “No more,” I wave him off playfully.

  “You both
were a pleasure tonight.”

  “The pleasure was all ours,” I tell him.

  “So what’s with the no kissing, can I ask?”

  “I think she’s allergic to my lips,” Alex teases and I playfully roll my eyes at him.

  “We’re just friends,” I tell Oliver matter-of-factly.

  He looks towards Alex and gives him a pitying look.

  “Poor you.” We chit chat a little longer with Oliver before Alex pays the bill and we leave the best Mexican restaurant I’ve ever been to.

  “So you want to be my friend?” he says as we walk down the street that’s cleared up a bit since we went in. It’s the quietest I’ve ever heard it since I’ve been to New York. I give him a small smile, only letting my eyes meet his for a second.

  “You don’t want to be mine?”

  He stops and I look back at him, his head half cocked, and the sexual tension wraps around me like a noose.

  “Only if we can be best friends,” he says this so suggestively it makes me bite my lip. I clear my throat; nervousness almost swallows me whole and I so don’t trust myself right now.

  “Parker wouldn’t be thrilled about that,” I laugh, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. His face hardens a bit.

  “Parker’s a girl.” He says this more as a statement than a question and I laugh at him.

  “Friends don’t usually worry about who their other friends are,” I counter, and a magnificent smile breaks out on his face.

  “I have two sisters and know that’s an absolute lie,” he quips. And he’s right, we’re probably more territorial over our friends than our significant others.

  “I’ll give you that one but friendship is all I have to offer right now,” I tell him almost sadly. He lets out a long sigh but gives me a contemplative smile.

  “Okay. Friends.” He stretches his hand out and I take it but instead of shaking it he pulls me towards him, lifts me up, and his lips land on mine. They’re soft and he smells so good, his body hard against me. I demand my lips to close and my hands to push against him but instead I’m leaning into him, my mouth opening wider and our tongues dancing with each other’s. His hands roam my body. I’m dizzy and I’ve got to get a grip, but suddenly he pulls away and sets me down lightly.

  “Now we can be friends,” he says, his voice deep and gruff. I push him away angrily. He gives me an innocent look.

  “Why did you do that?!” I screech.

  “I thought you wanted to…” he says and I frown. I did want him to but that’s not the point.

  “You’ve screwed it up! How are we supposed to be friends now?” I scream angrily, but I’m angrier at myself because the kiss was amazing. Now how the hell am I supposed to look at him without thinking about it?

  He throws his head back and lets out a delicious laugh. “Friends kiss!” He can’t even say this with a straight face. I’m shooting daggers at him now.

  “You kiss your friends like that?” I spit back.

  “Look, we weren’t going to be able to be friends if I didn’t do that. It’d be all I could think about.”

  I let out a deep breath.

  “We can be friends now; I promise I won’t ever do anything like that again,” he says, his tone softer and eyes pleading for forgiveness.

  “Fine,” I say with a huff.

  “Until you tell me to,” he mutters and I shoot him a scolding stare. He didn’t say unless or if, but until. The balls on this guy.

  “I won’t,” I promise him.

  “Well that sucks for me,” he says. I try to erase the memory of him sucking my tongue and how there are other parts on my body begging for the same treatment.

  “I’m serious,” I say again but it comes out pitifully.

  “Come on bestie, let me get you home.” His tone is mocking and I begin to raise my middle finger.

  “Careful, I might take that as an invitation.” His cocky grin is luscious.

  My hormones are screaming at me to kiss him, but they make fucked up decisions and this time I’m going to be smart. I’ll be his friend. I’ll make enough cash to get things together back home and I’ll look back on this night one day after seeing all the girls’ hearts he’s broken, and congratulate myself for not being an idiot.

  I quietly slip into Parker’s apartment and see she’s sprawled out on her couch watching Netflix. I give her an innocent smile. “Where have you been?” Parker’s tone is completely suggestive and she’s got a big grin on her face.

  “I worked tonight, remember?” I sort of half lie but my best friend isn’t buying it.

  “Oh please, I know wherever you were serving didn’t last until three in the morning,” she declares knowingly. I join her on the couch realizing she won’t let it rest unless I tell her.

  “Shouldn’t you be getting it on with your boyfriend?” I ask trying to change the subject.

  “Me and Brad got it on earlier three times, in fact,” she informs me. I’m impressed and clap dramatically for her.

  “Now where were you?” she asks.

  “I went out for dinner and drinks with a coworker.”

  “The Casey girl?” she asks only slightly mockingly, and I recall me and Alex’s conversation about friends earlier.

  “No, another one,” I say quietly.

  “Who, Ms. Secretive?” She nudges me.

  “Alex,” I tell her and she thinks for a minute, then smiles.

  “Uber guy?” she almost squeals.

  “Yes Uber guy but it’s not what you think. I’m here aren’t I?” I point out, getting up from the couch.

  “Yeah and you don’t seem too happy about it,” she giggles and follows me into my room.

  “Is he hot?” she asks.

  “Scorching,” I admit with a groan.

  “Well what’s the problem? You’ve never had an issue closing the deal.” She chuckles. I flop on the bed and hold a pillow to my stomach.

  “Because there isn’t going to be any deal closing since I don’t necessarily trust my negotiation skills,” I remind her and she looks confused.

  “Parks, after…after this Jackson thing I don’t trust myself,” I say quietly and her expression softens.

  “Mads you can’t let what happened stop you from living life. You made a mistake and it wasn’t even one that you made on purpose. I think it was a good step for you to let someone in; it was just the wrong person. It doesn’t mean there’ll never be a right one. Besides, you know my theory—nothing gets you over the last one like the next one.”

  “This is a first for me to get over. I never had a problem moving on from men, you know that. It’s just…Jackson was different and I still feel like I’m an open wound. And as much as I wanted to screw Alex’s brains out, I don’t know if I have it in me for sex to just be sex now, if that makes sense. I lost my guy gene,” I tell her with a laugh, but I’m serious. I always prided myself on being able to have sex without getting emotionally attached to men even though Melissa says it’s a deep psychological issue rather than a super power.

  “Do you like this guy?” she asks with a smile and a raised brow. I think of Alex, his smile, how easy he’s been to talk to, and the kiss from tonight. There’s nothing to not like about him, but that’s not the scary party. I’ve liked guys before; I’ve even loved before Jackson. I loved Ryan but Jackson made me realize it was possible to fall in love—something I never worried about before.

  “He’s cool. I just don’t trust myself these days and until I do I’d rather just not muddy the waters I guess.”

  “Well, that’s smart. It’s the mature thing to do. You’re starting to sound like your sister,” she teases me and I let out a chuckle.

  “Mel wouldn’t have let him kiss her.” Parker’s eyes widen.

  “You kissed him! How was it?” she asks. I close my eyes and relive the moment.

  “Amazing…it took everything in me to not…” I can’t even say the words, afraid that my vagina will riot at the reminder of the deprival it experienced. />
  “So you’re not going to see him again?” she asks sadly.

  “We’re going to be friends,” I say simply pulling my hair up into a bun.

  “Friends? A guy that you’re attracted to, and who wants to sleep with…you’re just going to be friends with him?” she asks sarcastically.

  “Uh yeah, I’ve had guy friends before,” I remind her.

  “And how many of those guy friends did you sleep with?” she asks, a hand on her hip.

  “None,” I say triumphantly.

  “How many did you want to sleep with?” she retorts.

  “None,” I say guiltily.

  “Well, I’m sure it will all work out great,” she says, her words dripping with sarcasm. My phone rings and I can’t fight the smile on my face when I see his name.

  “And let me guess, that’s your new bff,” Parker says jokingly. I roll my eyes at her.

  “I’m sure he’s just making sure I got in safely.”

  “Like a good friend would, of course,” she giggles before slinking out of the room. I answer the phone and try to kill the smile in my voice.

  “Yes…” I say, failing miserably at it.

  “Is this the broken hearts club? I’m looking for Madam President.” His tone doesn’t even have a hint of humor in it.

  “Look at you making jokes out of the worst pain you could ever feel. Shouldn’t you be asleep or at some girl’s door with that charming smile and innocent stare?” I tease him.

  “You think my stare’s innocent?” he asks.

  “I think you could pull it off if you wanted to,” I retort.

  “How am I pulling off the friend thing?”

  “You’re not doing too bad.”

  “Good. Because it’s entirely for show. I don’t want to be your friend and I know you don’t want to be mine, but I’ll play this little game as long as you insist.” His voice is deeper and it vibrates through me.

  “Well, this is New York and everyone wants to be an actor so I’m sure you’ll do fine, and maybe after a while you’ll believe it,” I tell him.

  “What are you wearing?” he asks, and I fight bursting into laughter.

  “Good night Alex,” I say and he laughs…and it’s a great laugh.