by S. L. Scott
“Yes,” I reply, believing the truth I see in his eyes.
“I will always treat you how you deserve.” With promises swirling around us, Chad and the other girl are forgotten and our own world seems to form. “I want you to come with me,” Dex says, sincerity on his face and heard in his words.
I take his hand and we leave together not knowing where this will lead to, but knowing that right now, tonight, this is right.
Dex puts two fingers in his mouth and blows, hailing a cab.
“You sure are good at that considering you’re a Cali kid,” I say, giving him a smile. The way his hand is possessively around mine suddenly feels like we’re more than friends. And I like it.
“I’ve spent enough time in the city, enough to learn how to get a cab when I need one,” he says.
The cab pulls up, the door opens, and we climb inside. “The Bowery,” he tells the driver as he sits back. Our hands drop to the space between us.
“Why did you want to leave, Dex?”
He looks at me with all the confidence in the world backing him. “Because I want to be alone with you.” He nods as if that’s all the response needed, and suddenly it is. It’s good enough.
When we arrive, we don’t talk or hold hands. I’m sure we don’t even seem like we’re together as we walk through the lobby of the hotel and take the elevator up. Trying to appear normal to the outside world, like things aren’t about to get heated in a sexual way is harder than it seems. I try to avoid eye contact but we catch each other’s in the trim of the door. “Where are we going?” I ask, whispering though we’re alone.
“My room.”
“Why?” I ask to be clear.
“I already told you. I want to be alone with you.”
“Why?”
A smirk appears. “Good question.”
The elevator doors open and he walks out without further explanation. Reaching back in, he takes my hand again and pulls me out of the vestibule. “Come with me.”
It’s not like I’m going to say no or anything, but still… Why? He holds the hotel room door wide, letting me enter. Looking around, it looks very similar to my room, but larger. The door slams shut and I’m spun around. My face is taken between his hands as his lips meet mine. Two beats pass before I close my eyes, relaxing under his touch, and return the kiss.
“I want you,” he whispers. “All of you this time.”
“I’m yours. With you, Dex,” I reply between kisses and caught breaths.
His hips press against me as my body finds purchase against the wall. Hands move with speed and diligence, finding the backside of my bra as warm breath covers my skin and his lips cover my neck. I slide my fingers up his back and into his hair, holding him there as my body squirms from his touch.
Just when I think we might have sex against this wall, a female voice scares us in the dark. “I wanted to surprise you… guess I’m the one who’s surprised.”
“What the fuck?” Dex is in front of me, his hand on my hip, holding me protectively behind him.
The lamp on the nightstand is turned on and a woman I recognize not only as one of Dex’s ex-girlfriends, but also as a popular lingerie model, stands next to the bed. I’ve never met her before, but saw the tabloid stories. She’s dressed in a red lace bra and matching g-string, and her hair rivals Bridgette Bardot’s sex kitten do. I try to swallow down the fact that she makes me look like I just got rescued after being stranded on an island for six months with my mismatched underwear and my messy hair.
With her hands on her hips, she looks offended by our intrusion. “Dex? Who is she?” Her accent is thick—Eastern European, I think.
“How’d you get in here, Alexia?” he asks. His tone firm but tinged with an authority that makes me take a step back, closer to the door.
She points at me while looking over his shoulder, making me feel short and unattractive compared to the supermodel standing before me. I’m usually in jeans and my hair is messy most days. She wears skin-tight dresses and her locks always look professionally styled. “I’m here,” she says with a stamp of her high heel. “She can go now.”
I take another step toward the door. “I’m gonna leave.”
“No,” he says with authority, turning to face me. “She’s leaving.” His expression is stern, leaving no room to argue.
I need to escape this fiasco though. “I want to,” I add with a little less strength.
“I don’t want you to.” He lowers his voice and says, “Stay, Rochelle. I want you to stay with me.” He reaches for my hand, but when we hear her demand his attention, he looks back and I reach for the door.
“Dex!” We turn to see her arms crossed over her chest and a look of determination on her face. “You told me to come here, so I’m here.”
“That was when we were together. We’ve been broken up for months. So I want you out, Alexia. I want you to get the fuck out right now.” When he turns back to me, his tone softens again. “I’ll come to your room after I settle this.”
With three quick nods, I leave the room. The heavy door shuts behind me and I remain leaning against it for support while I right my senses. Dropping my head back, I close my eyes. “Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn.” Then I push off the wood and head down the hall to my room.
Once inside, I lock the bolt and flip the safety slider over. Now I’m pissed. I can’t compete with a supermodel. These are the women he’s dated… dates. Not a five-foot-three mom of two young sons who eats salad for lunch six days a week to keep most of the cellulite at bay. I flip on the bathroom light and lean forward. My brown hair is in disarray, the colors of summer not yet affecting it. My skin is more pale than olive these days and my eyeliner is smeared from the gropes in the dark. The alcohol sloshes around in my stomach, rattling my thoughts and self-esteem, or maybe it was the glamazon lying across his bed in nothing but lingerie like a gift being presented to Dex that has me shaken.
There’s a soft knock on the door and I look down, trying to collect my thoughts back together. With a deep breath, I turn and go to open it. I unlock the bolt but leave the slider in place. Three inches of visual is all I’m allowing in the state I’m in. The offense is caught in his expression. The subtle message that he knows this is going nowhere is now obvious.
“Hey, what’s going on?” he asks, keeping his voice low.
“I’m gonna go to bed.”
“What about we try this again?”
I shake my head, looking away from him. “I’m tired.” My heart pounds but I know what’s best for me.
“Roch—”
“No, it’s too much. It’s… it’s just not meant to be.”
“Bullshit. You’re scared.”
I don’t deny that. I can’t. I am scared. Looking at him, I try to hold the eye contact that will tell him I’m strong, not weak, how I really feel inside. “I had a good time, but I’m tired. I think it’s best if we both just go to bed. Goodnight, Dex.”
I start to shut the door, but his palm goes flat against the thick wood, causing a loud thud. “No, don’t do this. I don’t know how she got in. But she wasn’t there because I wanted her there. Don’t let this ruin something good,” he says, his free hand signaling between us.
After a deep sigh, all reality hits, and I respond, “She can’t ruin what’s not there. We’re an illusion that’s never supposed to be real.”
“Don’t do this, Rochelle. Please.” I see the desperation in his eyes, a panic and sadness. Maybe disappointment in me. “You’re convincing yourself that I’m the bad guy, that I don’t care, and you know that’s lies, lies you’re telling yourself to avoid anything that might actually be real.”
Wanting this door closed. Wanting the emotions welled up like a fist lingering in my chest to subside. Wanting the tears to stay at bay, I say what I shouldn’t to make it all go away. “I don’t have to convince myself that you’re the bad guy. You do a fine job of that all on your own.” With my weight behind me, I slam the door shut, knowing w
hat I said is wrong and unwarranted, knowing that all the good strides he’s made over the years to clean up his life—I just took that away in that one line, in a sad attempt to protect my heart. Because no matter what he says to me today, he’ll break my heart tomorrow. That I do know.
My head is pounding from dehydration and not enough food. I break into the mini-bar to get a bottle of water. After fishing two ibuprofen from my purse, I swallow them and lay back down. With my forearm draped over my eyes, I try to sleep again. It’s not working. Tonight was so good… then it wasn’t. Damn supermodel in matching lingerie exes. There is nothing wrong with a little cotton every now and again.
Rolling to my side, I try my hardest to block out my confrontation with Dex and what almost was. When that doesn’t work, I turn on the TV and watch infomercials until the sun starts to rise. Then I get up and get dressed. After washing my face, I pull my hair back before heading downstairs and outside. Two blocks down and one street over, I find a Starbucks.
I retrieve my coffee when my name is called and find a chair in the corner near the window. With my back to the line that’s forming, I drop my head into my hands. What am I doing here? I don’t have the luxury of being irresponsible. I have children who rely on me to be the exact opposite.
“Stop beating yourself up.”
With my back to him, I sigh, not sure how I feel about the intrusion into my head.
“Can I join you?” Dex asks.
Per usual, my heart reacts to the sound of his voice. I slowly look up and nod, giving in. “Why are you up so early?”
He sits across from me, our knees bumping under the tiny round table. “I don’t think I actually went to sleep.” Disappointment settles on my face, but he’s quick to correct my assumption. “I was alone all night.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. If I couldn’t be with you, I didn’t want to be with anyone else.” He leans forward, pushing his coffee to the side, and whispers, “We weren’t doing anything wrong. Rochelle, you’re a widow, but that doesn’t take away the fact that you’re young, you have needs. I’m sure you don’t want to spend the rest of your life alone.”
Sitting up straight, this topic feels heavy for seven-thirty in the morning. “My needs come second to my kids and I don’t think my kids need the disruption right now.”
“You’re a great mother, but you’re also a woman. You have feelings and deserve a life of your own as well.”
“Dex, why are you here? Why do you want this to happen? Two years ago it was sex in a weak moment. Last night, I was drunk and you’re too good looking. But this can’t be. I don’t understand why you act like it can.”
His mouth hangs open enough for me to know I’ve shocked him. When he gets up, the chair bumps against the window in his haste, but he stops, tapping twice on the table in front of me. I glance up and see once again that I’ve hurt him when all I meant to do was give him an out. “You know,” he starts. “One day, I hope you’ll see me for more than a coked-up drummer who used to sleep around.”
Just as he starts to leave again, I grab his hand. He looks back at me, the connection slipping from my grip. “I do, Dex. It’s me. It’s not you.”
His hand leaves mine and he disappears, and I’m left with the chiming of the bell above the door echoing in my heart. Memories of him holding me after the funeral come rushing back and the feeling that in that moment, I felt safe, like everything would be okay one day. I found that in his arms.
Cory used to be my safe haven, but with him gone… I get up, feeling all wrong that he’s gone because he’s right. No matter what changes I recognize in him now, I’m still holding his past against him. And I’m still holding onto a future that can never be with Cory. I’m alone. No matter how much I wish I wasn’t, I am. That’s the reality I need to accept.
I have a guy, a great guy, willing to take a chance on me and maybe it’s time I put myself out there and give him that chance. But I have conditions—two, in fact—a brown-eyed and a blue-eyed—conditions that will always come first in my life.
I run after him, out the door and across the street. “Dex?” I call just before he enters the hotel. “Wait up.”
He stops one block ahead of me, and turns back. Hands shoved in pockets, head tilted down, but his curious eyes look up to watch me run toward him. Stopping with a few feet between us and with harsh breaths from running, I say, “You’re right.”
The hope his voice held earlier is all but gone when he asks, “About what?”
“About us.”
“What about us?”
“The truth is, I can’t be frivolous with my emotions, but you’re right, we aren’t wrong. What we did isn’t wrong. You’ve changed and though not everyone can see it, I do. It’s been amazing to watch your transformation from the guy I knew years ago to the man you are now. But I need time—”
“I understand.”
“No, I don’t know that you do. I loved Cory. I’m not saying that to hurt your feelings, but it’s something I struggle with every day. He’s not here anymore, but I am and I don’t want to be alone.”
“He left us all. I’ve tried to hold back, for your sake. To not require you to think about me, but I fucking miss him, every single day. I miss my friend. I know you loved him. So did I. He was the only one in my life I could always rely on. That void will never be filled, Rochelle. I’m not trying to fill his shoes. I’m not him. All I can be is me and hope it’s good enough.”
“Oh Dex. I’m sorry. I know his death has affected everyone. But it’s time I focused on my family. I have to put my kids first. I want to. They deserve that much and more.” He nods as I continue. “So I have an offer for you. I’ll understand if you’re not ready to take us all on. I promise I will. But what if we start off slowly? Maybe you can spend some time at my house when the tour’s over?”
“What do you mean? Like hang out?”
“Yes, let’s start off as friends, real friends, friends who spend time together because I come as a package deal. You’re young and not responsible for anyone else, but when you date me, you date my boys. So what if you maybe came over for lunch or dinner one night? It will give you a chance to see the reality of what you’re getting into before things get too deep.”
“Your boys know who I am, Rochelle.”
“But they don’t know you. It’s the only offer I can make.”
“So two steps back and we slow things down?” A section of his hair falls forward and as much as I want to touch the soft strands again, I don’t. “You tell me when,” he says, “and I’ll be there.”
“Deal.” I stick out my hand, another offer of my sincerity to give him the chance he deserves.
He accepts the offer. “Deal.”
We shake on it, his warmth coursing through my body. When we part, I go to him and wrap my arms around his middle because despite the deal we just made, he needs to know that our time together mattered to me. I tilt my mouth up toward his ear, and whisper, “Just in case you think I’m being completely selfless here, I’m not. I remember every kiss we shared and everything we did that night.”
I see his mouth broaden into a smile and he kisses me on the forehead. “Good to know I’m not alone.”
“You’re not. I’m just not as brave as you.”
He pulls back to look me in the eyes. “You’re braver than you know yourself to be.”
“I’m only brave because you give me strength.” I glance down and when I look back up, I feel like we might just kiss again. Licking my bottom lip, I take in a deep breath, but when I release it, he says, “Two steps back for now, but one day, Rochelle Floros, I’m gonna be the man of your dreams.”
I don’t dare mention that I’ve already had a few dreams of the naughty variety about him. “What about my reality?”
He walks backward a couple of steps, a self-assured grin on his face. With a cocked eyebrow and two thumbs to his chest, he replies, “Right here. Reality and fantasy all rolled into one, b
aby.”
Putting my hand on my hip, I can’t stop the smile he brings out of me. “A bit cocky, aren’t we?”
“I’m very cocky, but you already know that from the first time we fuc—”
“Oh my God, I meant arrogant, not your, your—”
“That works too.”
“Pfft. Go. Go before I feel the need to knock that chip off your shoulder.”
He reaches the door and pulls it open. “We’ll be knocking, but it will have nothing to do with chips.”
“What about shoulders?” I tease.
“I always knew you were a kinky girl.” He goes inside and I’m left standing there like a fool in the middle of the sidewalk with a huge goofy grin on my face.
I pull my phone out and check the calendar. The band gets back to LA in eleven days, so I text Dex: How about lunch in twelve days?
Dex: Going out or staying in?
I type back: I’ll cook for you.
Dex: What are you going to cook?
Me: Are you coming over or what?
Dex: I love when you beg. It’s sexy.
Me: I’m not begging. I’m asking.
Dex: Since you’re asking so nicely, the answer is yes.
Me: You’re incorrigible.
Dex: I’ve been called worse.
Me: I just bet you have.
Dex: Stop bugging me. I need some beauty sleep before we leave for Boston. You think I wake up this hot naturally? Oh wait, that’s right, I do.
I burst out laughing and reply: LOL. On that note, Mr. Humble, sweet dreams.
Dex: Forget sweet. I’m hoping for wet if I have my way, sweetheart.
My eyes go wide and my mouth drops open. I quickly shove my phone into my back pocket and hurry inside the hotel. Within minutes, I’m knocking on the door.
He opens his door wide and with a wry smile while acting innocent, he asks, “And to what do I owe the pleasure?”
I walk under his arm and slip inside his room. “I could use some sleep too.”
