by Kira Berger
A lump forms in my throat when I remember my brother. He was my best friend, the one person I’d run to whenever something happened. Even living in different countries, he was always there for me. We’d talk on FaceTime at least once a week, if not more. He’d tell me all about what was going on in my hometown, regaling me with stories of what he and his friends would get up to, while I’d tell him about my life and work in London. At least in the beginning. I still can’t believe how things have changed the last two years, how I changed without realizing it. Yet, my brother—all of my family—never stopped trying to be there for me. No matter what happened.
I forcefully cut off this train of thought, it’s still too painful; I look at my half-empty plate when tears threaten to form.
“Gorgeous.” A whisper reaches me from across the table. “Hey.”
I take a deep breath, trying to calm my tumultuous mind. I can’t believe my thoughts wandered there today when the most beautiful man, inside and out, is sitting across from me. He doesn’t need to know about my past and all the mistakes I wish with everything I am I could change.
Once I fight back the tears, I look at him and smile weakly. I open my mouth, unsure what to say, something to distract him from what he just witnessed, but he beats me to it.
“Where did you just go?” His voice is gentle, barely more than a whisper. It’s like he can tell I’m hanging on by a thread. But I’m not ready to go there, I’m not sure I ever will be, and I’m not ruining this by letting my demons fly. He doesn’t need to know, no one ever needs to know how stupid I was or the guilt I carry around with me and will for the rest of my life.
It’s my cross to bear. My penance.
“Sorry, I get sentimental when I’m hungover.” I try to give him my best nonchalant smile, hoping he’ll let it go.
He looks at me, eyes glinting with intensity; something is working behind those blue eyes of his. And again, I’m reminded that I don’t really know this man, but I want to. I want to know what it means when his eyes go the color of steel instead of his usual cerulean blue. I want to know if he has a nervous tic, like tugging on his collar or scratching his brow. What’s his favorite season? Is he a beach or mountain person? What’s his favorite book?
So many questions, and I have no answer to any of them. But I want to. Yet, for that to happen I need to lower my wall, let him in, no matter how scary.
I’m drawn out of my thoughts again by his voice. “Today is not the day; today we relax, we get to know each other while we watch a movie. But one day, one day soon, you’re going to tell me about those demons hiding behind your eyes. What has your eyes cloud with fear whenever something startles you. One day soon you’ll trust me enough, feel safe enough with me to share. And I’ll be here, waiting to listen to what you have to say.”
I sit there gaping at him. Did he just say this? How the hell does he even know any of this? Am I this transparent? Or is he just that good at reading me? No one else ever noticed anything amiss.
“I–I have no clue what the hell you’re talking about,” I stutter anxiously. No longer able to hold his stare, I grab my cold cup of coffee and our plates and carry them to the sink. I dump the mug before I move to refill it with fresh, warm coffee. I need all the caffeine I can get in order to deal with today. And him.
I can hear him move behind me, but before he can get close and muddle my brain any more, I turn around and make an effort to change the subject. I’m not ready to deal with the past today, not while he causes all these emotions to swirl within me.
Clearing my throat, I tell him, “There are towels in the hallway closet. Feel free to grab one, and anything else you might need.”
I’m still not meeting his eyes, instead I stare at his shoulder, which is why I miss his smile. Had I seen it, it would have brought me to my knees, or made me join him in the shower.
“All right. Thanks. I’ll just quickly go grab my stuff from the car. Mind if I take your keys?”
I heave a sigh, grateful he let it go. “Nah, help yourself.”
He keeps surprising me; whenever I expect him to push, he backs off, and whenever I don’t expect it he pushes, catching me off guard. And for the umpteenth time I wonder what the hell this guy is doing to me.
Leaning back against the counter, I watch him leave my apartment, or well, his ass really. He does have a fine behind worth staring at. He must be working out quite a bit to maintain his physique and be in top shape. Or maybe it’s genetics? Thinking back to last night, I remember his brother being just as built and hot. Not as attractive as Duncan obviously, but then I don’t feel this crazy attraction toward Brendan.
Ignoring the fact that thinking about his body makes my own buzz with excitement, I turn around and start cleaning the kitchen. He cooked, it’s only right I do the cleanup.
Once it’s done, I grab my coffee and sit in the armchair. While staring out the window, I’m thinking about what happened, especially the hot episode in the kitchen. I’m definitely up for a repeat of that. I’ve never been this turned on; I can only imagine what it would be like to actually have him fuck me. A delicious shiver runs through me at the thought.
I’m too immersed in my fantasy to notice the door open and Duncan walk back into the apartment. Or lock the door just like I always make sure to do. And I also miss the look he shoots my way, full of promises and heat. Yeah, definitely good I didn’t notice this as I’m already turned on beyond reason thinking about our hot make out session.
Chapter Twelve
I’m not sure how long I sit in the chair, drinking my coffee. But I come back into the present when I hear Duncan call out to me from the kitchen. “Do you want some more coffee, babe?” Chuckling, he adds, “I do remember your obsession well.”
Jerking out of my naughty thoughts, I look at him in confusion before his words register. “Ah,” I look into my empty mug, “yes, please. That’d be lovely.”
“Coming right up.”
I smile at him. And I really hope it doesn’t convey everything I’m feeling. I learned over time it’s the little things that count; not the expensive presents, the flowery words with no meaning, but the small gestures. Like remembering how I drink my coffee, my one addiction, or recognizing whenever I’m not feeling well. Even though that last one can be annoying since I mostly don’t want him to know this.
Fuck, talk about being all over the place.
I watch him walk over to me with the coffee pot to give me a refill. His blond hair is wet from the shower, and he smells delicious. He must have had his own things in the bag because he does not smell like my orchid scented shower gel. Oh no, his is all masculine, and for some weird reason really does it for my libido. His tight gray shirt and low-hanging sweatpants aren’t helping my state of arousal either.
Fucking hell, I need to get my hormones in check before I do something silly. Like literally rip his clothes off when he made it clear he didn’t plan on going there today.
While his scent and the clearly defined muscles distract me, he quickly leans down and kisses me on the forehead.
“Stop it. If you don’t quit thinking whatever naughty thoughts you have, I will forget the manners my mother taught me, strip you naked, and fuck you so hard you’ll feel me inside of you for a week.”
A low moan escapes my throat without my permission; I can’t help myself. “Babe…” he whispers at this, closing his eyes tight.
In order to disperse the sexual tension that keeps mounting between us, I order, “Coffee, please, my dear sir.” I put on my most horrendous imitation of a Cockney accent, one thing that never fails to make people laugh since it’s so bad. And Duncan is no exception.
Throwing his head back, he roars with laughter. “Oh, shit. That was bad, babe. So bad. I thought you’d be better at this, having lived there and all.”
I can’t help but laugh along with him. “Maybe so, but that doesn’t mean I’m any good at faking Cockney. Clearly.”
“Yeah, let’s not do that aga
in.”
He refills my mug before he turns back to the kitchen. He grabs his own mug and turns back toward the couch.
“So, you up for a movie?”
“Sure,” I say while I move off the armchair and sit next to him on the couch, leaving distance between us. I set my coffee next to his on the coffee table before I move to sit sideways in the corner, my back to the armrest and my feet planted on the couch.
“What are you in the mood for? I don’t have DVDs, but I have Netflix or On Demand. My brain is too tired, so you choose. As long as it’s not scary. I don’t think I could stomach that today.”
“All right. Let me see what’s on Netflix.”
I lean my head against the back of the couch and watch him turn on the TV and boot up Netflix. Suddenly, he frowns and looks at me with a mixture of confusion and anger. What the hell? What could have upset him this fast? Again.
“Who is Oliver, Alex?”
Tired, turned on, and hungover, all at the same time, means my brain is not the fastest right now. “Huh?” is my confused and so eloquent reaction.
Turning fully toward me, he leans close. “Oliver, who is he? I thought you were single?” His voice is even but low, like he’s trying hard not to jump to conclusions and get angry over something that might be nothing.
I jerk back at this, my brain finally waking the hell up. “No!” I blurt. “Oh, God. No.” I grimace, disgusted at the thought. “Oliver was my brother.”
Was. That word still kills me. I can’t wrap my head around him being gone, even after all these months.
Looking at the TV, I see his name next to mine. We used to share a Netflix account and would end up discussing and mocking each other’s movie choices. I forgot to delete his profile, or maybe I deliberately forgot. I don’t want to forget him, even something as trivial as a shared Netflix account. Every time I see his name on the screen I’m filled with longing but also love. We were close, and I miss having someone close to me who knew me as well as he did. If I struggled at school, he was the one I went to for help, same with work. If I had issues in a relationship, he was the voice of reason talking me down from whatever ledge I was on. And I listened; I trusted his judgment implicitly. Every damn time except the one time it counted.
I take a deep breath to ease the guilt that crawls up my throat. I feel like I’m riding a roller coaster with the way my emotions are high one minute and low the next. I’m smiling, happy, and suddenly I see a reminder of everything I lost, and the devastation comes crashing back. I’m so sick of feeling this way. Just for one day, I want to forget it all and enjoy the moment.
Suddenly, hands cup my face and turn me toward Duncan. Searching my face, I can see the concern grow in his eyes.
“Was?”
“Yeah, he… ah… he died in a car accident,” I stutter and try to look away from his probing eyes, but I can’t. His eyes hold me captive. I never noticed how expressive they are, shows how oblivious I can be, but in this moment, his eyes show me everything I needed to see—concern, understanding, and sympathy. I’m glad I’m not seeing pity in his gaze; I’m sure that would have killed me.
I’m suddenly hauled across the couch into strong arms. He reclines into the corner of the couch, his legs on my wooden coffee table, while he pulls me into his side. I’m so startled by the movement, I let out a little yelp of surprise. Bracing my hands on his chest, I lean back to try and catch his eyes.
One hand is around my waist, while his other traces my lips softly, his eyes following his thumb before he looks into my eyes. “I’m sorry you lost him, babe. And I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions just now. It’s just…” Taking a deep breath, he seems to need a moment to get his thoughts in order. “You’ve got secrets, that’s clear as day, so I thought maybe that’s your secret. I’m sorry I brought it up, but it explains why your eyes went sad last night when I introduced Brendan as my brother.”
“They did?” I never realized it’s that obvious. But he’s right, when he and his brother showed up last night what’s left of my heart constricted painfully when reminded that my brother won’t ever come out for drinks with me again. Won’t ever tease me over my choice of drink, or my ridiculous need to dance when certain songs come on and would drag him on the dance floor when no one else would join me. It hurt, but I didn’t think they’d see in the dark interior of the bar.
“Yeah, but I only noticed because I couldn’t take my eyes off you. You took my breath away last night.” He gives me a tender smile, and I lean into his touch at his confession while he continues. “It explains a lot about you, and I’m glad you told me, even though you were kind of forced to. Thank you.” With that, he softly kisses me on the mouth before he turns back to the TV.
I look at him, confused. I’d have expected him to push for more information, but no, he says he’s sorry, rocks my world by showing just how good he can read me, and then proceeds with our day as if nothing momentous just happened.
“So, what are you in the mood for besides nothing scary?”
“I don’t know. Let’s see what’s in the ‘Recently Added’ queue.” He does as requested, scrolling past some weird new movies before I notice one I haven’t seen yet.
“Wait, go back. Have you seen Jurassic World yet?” I ask him.
“I have. Brendan dragged me into the movies for it on a double date.” He grimaces at the memory.
“Well, that doesn’t sound promising. I was hoping the movie would at least be decent.” I scrunch up my face in disappointment. I’d have loved to lust over Chris Pratt for an hour or two.
“Oh, the movie was decent enough, it was the date that was shit. Unfortunately, I still remember it since the girl Brendan set me up with was so annoying. She not only kept up a constant monologue during the movie, she was continuously trying to feel me up.”
I burst out laughing. “What? Don’t tell me you weren’t up for some fun while shrouded in darkness?”
“Depends. With you I would be, anytime.” He downright purrs and his gaze heats me to my core, cutting off my laughter. “But not with her, and definitely not in a packed theater with people, specifically teenagers, all around us. That was the last time I let Brendan set me up on a blind date.”
“Aw, poor you. Having women fawn over you must be such a hardship.” Sarcasm is heavy in my voice, and I pat him on the chest to emphasize my point. I can’t fault the woman; Duncan is gorgeous. He fills out a pair of jeans perfectly, and his smile makes promises of heated nights full of passion and orgasms. I know I can’t resist him, so how can I expect others to not want a piece of him, too?
“You have no idea.” He laments in mock seriousness. “It’s hard work looking like this, let me tell you.”
A rather unladylike snort escapes me. “I’m so sure.” Grinning, I turn to grab both mugs and hand him his before I burrow back into his side. “Are we gonna watch this or what?”
“Patience,” he tells me while starting the movie.
“Meh, patience’s never been a virtue of mine.”
“Trust me, I’ve noticed.” His tone is seductive and leaves no doubt as to what he’s eluding to. I guess he’s still not fully over the shower incident.
Trying to ignore my body’s reaction, thank God for padded bras, I mutter, “Whatever,” before I pretend to be engrossed in the movie starting to play on the screen.
His arm pulls me closer while he slouches deeper into the cushions. He’s surprisingly comfortable. His heat and smell lull me into a state of relaxation you only get after letting your guard down. The fact that I am able to do this with him should have scared me to death, but it doesn’t. I shouldn’t even be surprised by it anymore. I’ve been feeling safe and comfortable with him since the beginning. The walls I built have a difficult time not crumbling around me whenever he’s near.
In just under a week, this gorgeous man—the likes of which you only ever read about or see in movies—has wormed his way underneath my skin, making himself comfortable. And I didn’t even
notice it.
The little girl inside of me, the one who never stopped dreaming of finding her one true love, rejoices at this. She’s convinced if I just give him a chance he’ll give us everything we always wanted. But I’m not sure I can trust this side of myself. Granted, I’ve never felt like this before, but I let my guard down once and it has come back to haunt me.
My rational side, the place my inner cynic occupies, keeps reminding me that I can’t trust my heart. It has already led me down a path shrouded in darkness. I listened to my heart and destroyed everything I loved. Bringing devastation to everyone unlucky enough to have inhabited my orbit.
Not coming close to being able to decide who to listen to, and painfully aware I sound like I have a split personality even to myself, I shake off thoughts of the past and decide to just enjoy today. Enjoy his company and the laughter he brings without my issues coming out to play.
I concentrate on the movie. While I watch Chris Pratt train some tiny dinosaurs, I wonder how they filmed those scenes and how awkward it must have been. It also looks eerily familiar to how one of my friends in London used to train her dogs.
After I’ve finished my coffee and am being held closely against Duncan’s side with his warmth penetrating my body, I feel my eyes grow heavy until I can’t keep them open anymore, falling into a deep slumber.
I’ve always been a heavy sleeper, so I don’t notice when Duncan turns off the TV, lifts me off the couch, and carries me to my bed. Laying me on top of the comforter, he lies down next to me and pulls me against him once more before passing out himself. I’m not sure how I would have reacted was I awake, but asleep me snuggles into his side more, throws one leg over his, and fists his shirt, determined to not let go.
***
I’m not sure how long we are asleep, but I wake up to a room bathed in twilight. Groaning, Duncan turns away from me to switch on the lamp on my bedside table.
