by Mimi Flood
And now, here I was, dream becoming a reality and to top it off, he had just blown off Nicole. If it wasn’t for that large banner at the bar reminding me of the reason why I was even here, I would have jumped for joy.
Devon led me through the crowd to the middle of the dance floor, though the name in itself was a great exaggeration when describing the ten-by-ten foot parquet floor. A few people were watching us, whispering to one another, trying to act like they weren’t, and I could still feel Nicole’s icy gaze from across the room. The last thing I wanted tonight was to have all eyes on me or be the centre of attention.
Now, that was precisely what I was. Devon stopped and wrapped his arms around my waist, drawing in my focus.
“I think Nicole might officially hate my guts now,” I said, nervously.
“Well, we’re not here for her, are we?” he said, pulling me against him, our hips joined.
It was clear I wasn’t going to get away from Devon tonight and I wasn’t entirely sure that was a bad thing. Sure, I felt guilty for the way he had blown off Nicole, but deep down, a bigger part of me was delirious at having one-upped her. It filled me with unrecognizable confidence.
I wrapped my arms around Devon’s neck, bringing him even closer to me. Soon, I lost all awareness of where we were and who was watching. I succumbed to my deeper senses and without words, I made it quite clear to Devon just how comfortable I felt with him. His hands were just below my hips as our bodies swayed side to side. I knew people were returning to their conversations, forgetting about the distraction that we had caused. Lost in my little world with my high school crush, I let the indescribable feeling overwhelm me.
He seemed just as entranced, his cheek resting against my head. Our body heat was climbing, my physical attraction to him increasing by the minute. I knew I should maybe take a break, distance myself a little bit, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
Instead, as yet another song began, I held him closer still.
“Thirsty?” he suggested as if reading my thoughts. “That is if you want to stop dancing.” He smiled at me, his eyes glowing and I knew he was teasing me. He held out his hand and we walked to a nearby table. “Here, sit. I’ll be right back.”
I watched him walk away, enjoying the view and was overcome by a sudden wave of fatigue. I’d been through quite a day and my earlier nap hadn’t helped much. While Devon stood at the bar, casting occasional glances back at me, I became aware that I was now alone, with no one to use as a crutch. Devon was soon surrounded by his friends and seemed engulfed in whatever conversation they were now having. I knew the drinks would take a while, so I decided to head to the toilet.
Situated at the back of the bar, down a very dimly-lit hallway, I found the ladies room, which was nothing more than two stalls and one pedestal sink. As I washed my hands, I heard whoever had been in the neighbouring stall step out. I looked up to find a tall brunette standing over me. Even in the harsh neon light of the bathroom, Nicole looked like a supermodel.
“Oh, it’s you,” she said. She was trying to act surprised, but I could tell that she’d followed me in on purpose.
“Hi, Nicole,” I said, drying my hands as quickly as I could.
“Listen, about you and Devon,” she began.
“There’s nothing between me and—,”
“Don’t,” she cut me off. Stepping closer to me, which was pretty close considering the size of the room we were in, she spoke, threateningly. “You can have your fun for the weekend, but you need to remember that he’s mine. He’s always been mine.”
I was backing up a little, trying to avoid her warm breath on my face.
“Are you serious?” I started to hope someone would walk in and let me escape this awkward situation.
“Totally serious.” She sneered at me, turning around and storming out.
Stunned, I leaned against the wall.
Had I travelled back in time?
We were in our thirties now, shouldn’t this kind of behaviour be a thing of the past, reserved for teenage girls and their bullshit?
Stepping out of the room, I walked through the dance floor, crossing the crowd, keeping my eyes down. I avoided the bar, and Devon and his buddies, who were still laughing and chatting. I headed straight for the door.
I had barely reached it when I heard Devon shouting behind me.
“Elle! Elle, wait up.” He caught up with me, grabbing my arm. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going home.” I could feel the tears making their way up, desperate to spill over. “Thanks for tonight, but I really should leave.”
“Really?” he asked, looking discouraged. “But we just got here. I thought we were having a good time.”
I could feel the emotions taking their toll and I couldn’t believe I was letting someone as horrible as Nicole get to me. Still, as I looked into Devon’s eyes, I was filled with a sudden burst of frustration toward him.
“Be honest,” I demanded. “You and Nicole aren’t over, are you?”
“What makes you say that? Did she say something to you?”
He was looking behind him as if searching for her.
“It doesn’t matter what she said. Answer me.”
“Like I told you before, we’re just friends.”
“Somehow I don’t really believe that.”
He shook his head and stepped closer to me.
“Well, we are. And I’m sorry you seem to have issues trusting people, but I’m telling you the truth.”
“Right,” I replied, doubtful.
“It’s true. Despite what you think of me, I’m not a liar,” he replied earnestly and reached for my hand. “Now, can you please come inside with me? I think you and I both deserve to have a good time, don’t you?”
Though I was still annoyed as hell with Nicole and how she had made me feel—how she had brought up repressed anger I had felt decades ago—I also felt a little guilty leaving Devon high and dry. It was true that he had gone through the trouble of organizing this evening for my grandmother and the last thing I wanted was to give into Nicole and her childish ways.
I was stronger than that, wasn’t I?
Before I could come to a decision, he began to lean in and my world stopped. All thoughts vanished as his lips touched mine, as his arms wrapped themselves around my waist. He stepped into me, his hips hard against mine and his tongue immediately found its way into my mouth. I let him kiss me, realizing I had never wanted anything more in my life. The kiss started softly, a little hesitant but built into something intensely passionate. I left my hands on his strong arms, gripping them so. A moan escaped my mouth as I kissed him harder.
Behind us, a large ruckus appeared out of thin air as a group of people walked out of the bar. It broke the spell between Devon and me, and we pulled apart. He smiled at me shyly, I could feel the heat in my cheeks, forcing myself to look away, slightly embarrassed by what had just happened.
“That was…” I giggled, unable to find the word.
“It really was,” he agreed, his voice dripping with seduction.
Though his kiss had given me a brief reprieve from my reasons for wanting to leave, they soon came rushing back. However, now, considering what had just happened, I decided to go back inside and enjoy the rest of my night, maybe even rub it in Nicole’s pretentious face. As improbable as the idea might have been a few days earlier, the prospect of hooking up with none other than Devon Barrett was now too good to pass up.
“Promise me one thing, though” I requested, as we headed back inside, my arm linked with his.
“Anything.”
“Keep that fucking bitch away from me.”
He laughed and wrapped his arm around me, “As long as you do the same for me.”
Saturday, April 22nd
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
My temples were throbbing even before I managed to pull my eyes open. Strangely aware that I wasn’t in my own bed, feeling the soft, foreign sheets against my skin, I looked aroun
d, trying to figure out exactly where I was. Snippets from the previous night were knocking at the exterior walls of my consciousness, trying to make their way in.
The room was bright, in a soft, glowing kind of way, but the sunlight hurt my eyes and compounded my headache. The king-sized bed I found myself in feeling like a vast expanse of cotton, and my legs were tangled in a large, white down comforter. To my left were immense, floor-to-ceiling windows, void of any curtains.
No curtains.
The realization hit me like a freight train.
I’m in Devon’s bed!
I yanked the blanket up to my chin, suddenly mortified and fully aware of my near-naked state. I was wearing my bra and panties only, but could not for the life of me remember taking off the rest of my clothes. I couldn’t remember sleeping with Devon and yet the evidence seemed to say otherwise. I thought back to the previous night, trying to make sense of my current predicament. The last thing I could recollect was taking several tequila shots at the bar following my encounter with Nicole.
Nicole.
She had made no further attempts to bother me, that much I could recall, and despite Devon’s reassurances to the contrary, she still spent the night giving me horribly evil looks.
I remembered having been drunker than I normally would have been—probably due to the mix of marijuana and alcohol—and the nasty morning breath I could now taste told me I had definitely gone too far. From what I could recall, Devon and I had remained close, constantly touching or dancing, but there had been no more repetition of our kiss. I couldn’t remember our night becoming anything more than that, but then again, as I now contemplated where I had woken up, maybe I was wrong.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t remember any more details. Not leaving the bar. Not coming back to Devon’s house. And saddest of all, not sleeping with him. My inner teenager was yelling at me. My wish had finally come true and I’d been too wasted to enjoy it or have any memory of it.
Filled with disappointment, I crawled out of bed and cased the room for my clothes, holding my arm across my chest should he walk in and see me. I felt stupid. If we had, in fact, slept together, Devon seeing me in my panties would be old news. There really was no reason to hide my body, but still, I hurried around the room, modestly hunched over.
After searching through the impeccably clean room, and finding no trace of my clothes, I panicked. Whether or not we had slept together, there was just no way I could walk out of his bedroom half naked. Slipping into a plaid shirt I pulled out of his closet, which much to my relief covered my butt, I went looking for him, as well as some much-needed coffee. My head was absolutely killing. I hoped I would be able to get some aspirin to go along with some caffeine and definitely some answers about last night.
Being alone gave me the opportunity to see the inside of his house. I peeked quickly into the guest rooms as I walked by. They were modern, very contemporary and clear of clutter—almost as if he didn’t have company over very often. I had never been much of a fan of this particular style—having always considered myself a fan of the traditional builds—but I could see the beauty in its simplicity. I walked down the wooden staircase, with its glass and steel railing, and ended up in the kitchen, which opened up into a large space that included a small dining table and the living room. Devon was sitting at the table, sipping his coffee, wearing only a white t-shirt and some boxers.
Delectable, I thought as he looked up and smiled.
“Good morning, sweetness,” he said, pouring me a cup of coffee. “Want some breakfast?”
I accepted, blushing and sitting down at the table, avoiding eye contact. He’d had as much to drink as I had the night before, maybe even more, yet he looked so unaffected by it. Surely he looked better than I did at that moment.
How was that possible?
In front of me, I found a plate of bacon, some croissants, and jam. Devon was rummaging through the refrigerator. I took a slice of bacon and immediately savoured its greasy goodness. As I buttered a croissant, I couldn’t help but note how strange my current predicament felt and not just because my memories had been replaced by a gaping black hole.
“Scrambled eggs sound good?”
“Sure, I’ll eat anything.”
I watched him cook, humming a little tune, looking very happy. From my own personal experience, there was usually only one reason a man would be in such a good mood following a night like we’d had. I hoped I was wrong.
“Devon,” I began, hugging my body as if to shield myself from the revelation that was about to come out. “Last night, did we…?”
Even though I knew I sounded prude, I couldn’t bring myself to say the words, embarrassed as I was. He stood still for a moment, his back turned to me so I was unable to read his face. His silence and his sudden rigidity led me to believe that we had, in fact, slept together and that I had offended him by not being able to remember it. I had to admit that I would be pretty pissed if I was in his shoes.
Crap.
He took the frying pan off the burner and walked over to the table, filling my plate with eggs.
“Thank you,” I offered, keeping my eyes down.
“As a matter of fact,” he said after keeping me hanging for a few minutes. “The idea came to me several times last night, but sadly we didn’t.” He poured himself another cup of coffee and sat down across from me. “Call me old-fashioned, but when I sleep with someone I like them to be conscious for it.”
The look he gave me was divine and made me swallow hard. Diverting my eyes again, I tried to hide the effect he was having on me but knew the colour in my face was giving me away.
“Besides,” he continued. “We were way too wasted. It wouldn’t have been how it could be.”
“How it could be?” I choked a little on my eggs.
He grinned mischievously. If I didn’t know any better, I would have said he was incredibly pleased with his air of mystery.
“Do you have any plans today?” I asked in an effort to change the subject.
“That depends on what your plans are. I was thinking we could hang out,” he said. “If you feel up to it, that is.” He let out his small laugh that told me he was teasing.
The same giddiness I had felt the previous evening rushed over me once more.
What was it about him that made me feel like this?
I knew my time would be better spent focusing on the recent upheaval of my life that was looming over my head but at that exact moment, hangover or not, there was nothing I felt like doing more than spending the day with Devon. Just the idea of it was intoxicating.
I glanced out of the panoramic windows, at the lake and could see the sun shining, the trees swaying ever so softly, hinting that there was the lightest of breezes. I could already sense the warm, comfortable spring day and knew it was my favourite kind of weather—not too warm, not too cold, just a gentle crispness in the air. It was the kind of day that always made me want to be outside. At that moment something helped me decide—I could deal with life and its bullshit later.
“What did you have in mind?”
My heart fluttered as Devon stepped behind me, putting his hands on my shoulders, squeezing gently.
“First off,” he leaned down, whispering in my ear, his lips brushing against my skin. “Let’s take a shower.” I looked up at him, unable to hide my surprise. “Separate showers,” he clarified.
Strangely, as nervous as I had been waking up naked in his bed, I was now a little disappointed at not being able to take a shower with him. I let the picture of him showering take over my thoughts. I could imagine the water running down his tanned skin, down his stomach, his legs. I could picture each muscle, wet and warm. The thought made my thighs tighten and I desperately wanted to see more, but couldn’t bring myself to take it any further.
“And after showering?” I asked, barely able to stop my voice from quivering.
“That part is a surprise.” He was being a tease, but I didn’t mind.
I let the water from the rain shower-head rush over me, feeling it relieve my lingering hangover. As I worked the ultra-creamy body wash into a lather, recognizing Devon’s scent immediately, I came to the realization that I still had no idea where my clothes were.
Once I was done, I wrapped myself in a large, thick white towel and smiled at the absurdity of my dilemma. Things could definitely be worse than wondering where my clothes were while I was naked in Devon Barrett’s shower! As if he had read my mind, Devon was waiting outside the room holding a neatly folded pile of clothes.
“I washed them this morning,” he said, handing them over. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Mind?” I laughed, thanking him. “You cook and do laundry? Is there anything you don’t do?”
“Very little,” he joked and went for his shower.
I fought back the urge to open the door and peek at him naked. The fact that the only thing standing between me and him was a very skinny wooden door, made the temptation that much greater and harder to resist.
I pulled myself together, wondering where these impulses were coming from and walked back to his bedroom. Reluctant to wear the same thing I had worn the previous day, I improvised and kept Devon’s shirt instead of my own. I hoped he wouldn’t mind. Besides, as I looked at myself in the mirror, paired with my jeans, his checkered shirt actually looked good on me. Devon was still in the shower when I came back downstairs, so I went to wait outside by his Range Rover.
I felt minuscule next to the car. It was a nice vehicle, to be sure. Maybe nice wasn’t the right word. It was large, sleek and the most interesting colour—a sort of black with blue undertones. I tried to peek inside, but the windows were fairly well-tinted and I couldn’t see much. And so I leaned against the car, hoping not to trigger his car alarm—assuming he had one—and waited.
