by Kris Bryant
“Did you ever help that lady Sara with her website?” she asks.
“Ah, no. I didn’t and I don’t want to. She’s a nice woman, but I have no interest,” I say. I hold my hands up, stopping the conversation about Sara Phelps from happening.
“In her or a relationship in general?” Ali asks. I stare at her. Now she looks nervous, and I smile at how quickly things have switched.
“Her no, a relationship yes,” I say. I choose my words very carefully. She smiles at me.
“Good,” she says.
All too quickly our time comes to an end. As much as I don’t want to leave, I know Ali has to get back to her tour.
“Where’s the bus?” I ask. I didn’t see it when I pulled up.
“It’s out back. Everybody’s probably napping,” Ali says.
I realize our lives are opposite. I’m holed up for months at a time writing, and Ali travels the country for months at a time. Dating a musician is a completely new and different experience. It has to be difficult out on the road away from your home, your bed, your family life. With our differences, I’ll have to really think about a relationship with Ali. Am I going to be hurt by a long-term separation? Is the relationship going to be worth it?
“If you need to get going, I understand. I’ll see you in two weeks,” I say.
Ali smiles at me. “I’m already looking forward to it. Then we won’t be so rushed.” She grabs the bill, explaining that it’s her treat since I drove so far for our date. “No fighting. Come on, I’ll walk you to your car. Let’s try to get you back to camp before dark.”
I lead the way, completely self-conscious with her so close behind me. I can feel her body heat, and I stiffen when she closes the gap even more as we get closer to the door. When Ali touches my elbow to guide me out of the way of somebody entering the bar, I shiver as chills dance across my body. I try to stop it, but I can’t. Her touch affects me that much. We exit the building and my spirits sink. I parked in the first spot by the door. Our good-bye will be awkward and in front of everybody at the bar. I turn and offer Ali a ride to her bus. She chuckles and climbs into the passenger seat after helping me into mine. While crawling into the car, my dress rises to mid-thigh. I don’t want to draw attention to it by tugging on it so I have no choice but to leave it unattended. Ali has already seen me in a bathing suit, and this covers a hell of a lot more than that. I catch her looking at my legs with a mixture of joy and hunger. Another victory for me. As I drive to the back of the restaurant, my palms start sweating. I know there’s going to be a kiss, an awkward hug, or both within the next thirty seconds.
“Thanks again for meeting me,” Ali says. Her voice is low and soothing. I smile, reminded why I like hearing her voice. Ali leans forward and runs her thumb down my cheek. My stomach quivers with excitement, anxiety, and possibility. I love this feeling but dread it as well.
“You’re welcome.” My voice is surprisingly low, too. My eyes lock on Ali’s as she leans over and kisses me. Her lips leave mine too soon. I want more and follow Ali back, kissing her fully. I hear her moan and, encouraged, I suck her bottom lip, running my tongue gently along it, feeling the velvety softness, tasting her sweetness. Ali pulls me even closer, and this time I moan. I don’t want this to end. Suddenly, I remember that we’re in front of the bus and everybody has probably seen us. I reluctantly pull away.
“Mmm. That was nice,” Ali says. Her hands are still on my face. I smile weakly, my head and my heart fighting for attention. “Guess I should go, huh?” she says. I nod, knowing both of us need to head out now. “Let me know when you’ve made it back, okay?” Again, I nod. Why am I not saying anything?
“Be safe.” What the hell? Who says that? I mentally smack myself. “Well, have a safe trip, I mean. You know what I mean.”
“Oh, I will. And I’ll see you in two weeks.” She opens the door and steps out into the warm evening. She leans down and winks at me. I wave to her as she climbs the steps of her bus. This is probably the best night I’ve had. Ever. This is the way it’s supposed to feel. The way dating is supposed to be. The warmth, the passion, the want. Smiling, I pull out onto the highway and head back to camp, completely lost in my thoughts of Ali and our incredible evening.
Chapter Twelve
“So tell me how you ended up in Chicago,” Ali asks me one night on the phone. She’s thinking about me because she’s headed there for a show. How sweet.
“After Crystal dumped me, I really didn’t have a reason to stay in Memphis, so I moved to Chicago. My editor, Tom, is there, and I was always taking trips to see him.”
“Did you lose your friends in the breakup?”
“I guess so. I didn’t care at that point. Most of them were her friends, and I hated that they knew and nobody said anything to me. I just packed up my stuff and left. I didn’t want anything,” I say.
“I had the opposite problem. The minute anybody knew a girlfriend cheated on me, they would run to tell me. Sometimes it’s better not to know. They had ulterior motives though, I think. Wouldn’t it be great to have friends just to have friends?” We both chuckle. “At least tell me you listened to some incredible music in Memphis,” she says.
“Oh, most definitely. I’ve always loved music. I’m sorry I didn’t know your music before you showed up at camp. I had a hard time listening to anything that was sweet and romantic. I listen to classical music or straight-up rock. More for background noise.”
“Can you listen to me now?” Ali asks softly. I can’t tell her that I listen to her every day, every chance I get, and I have several of her songs memorized by now. I can’t let her know that I’m giddy when her songs pop up on my iPod while I’m jogging. Sometimes, I have to stop whatever I’m doing because her voice hits something deep inside me and it takes my breath away. I play it off the best I can.
“Of course I can. You have an incredible voice and an incredible mouth—” I stop myself before this conversation turns sexual. I’m not ready for that. “I mean, well, you’re simply an amazing artist.”
Ali is silent for about five seconds. “Let’s go back to the part about my mouth.” I swallow hard. She’s using the same tone she had when she cornered me at the watering hole right before she kissed me.
“You do have a really nice mouth.” My voice is almost a whisper. My mind wanders to the last time I felt her lips on mine. It was when I dropped her off at her tour bus after our dinner. A warm, delicious feeling fills my body, and I can feel my cheeks turning red. I’m clenching the phone and have to force myself to relax.
“What makes it really nice?” she asks.
I think about how her lips are so full that I just want to suck and bite them and how she always says the right things to me and how her voice is so beautiful and clear. I decide not to be so completely raw in my answer.
“They’re very delicate.” They’re like silk against mine, and I almost moan remembering their softness. “Your lips are so red. I don’t think I’ve ever seen lips that red before. And I like watching your mouth when you talk and sing.”
“See, now every time I see your mouth, I just want to kiss it,” Ali says. I gasp. It’s such a simple thing to say, but it sends a jolt through me. How is it possible that this woman, this well-known singer, is interested in a tossed-aside introvert like me? She’s not done though. “And every time you bite down on your lower lip, it drives me insane.”
“Oh.” My mind is screaming things for me to say, but nothing comes out except one tiny insignificant word. “Oh,” I say. I repeat it as if I can’t believe I said it the first time. Opening up to another person is proving to be difficult. Ali must sense my discomfort because she suddenly changes the subject.
“We’re going to have the house to ourselves over the weekend. My aunt and uncle are staying at their condo in town. But they would love to have dinner Sunday night if you’re up for it.”
“I’d love to meet some of your family.” I’m surprised that Ali drops the playfully sexy talk so quick
ly. I hate myself for not continuing it. I know I’m going to have to open up more with her. I’m ready for this, just scared. I don’t know the rules. Yes, I’m definitely attracted to Ali. She’s intelligent, beautiful, talented, and flawless. I can’t find a flaw. Maybe that’s the problem. She’s too perfect for me.
“You know what would be nice?” I ask.
“What?”
“We should Skype. I mean, not right now, but sometime. It would be nice to actually see you again,” I say.
“I can’t believe I haven’t thought of that already. Do you have time now?”
Like I’m going to say no to her even though it’s one thirty in the morning and I desperately need sleep. I’m so excited. I look down at my clothes and decide I’m okay with what I’m wearing. My hair is a different story. I have it piled high on my head in a messy bun. Sometimes it looks good, but I’d better go check first. I run to the bathroom and give myself a quick check. Thumbs-up.
“Let me fire up my laptop. What’s your user name and I’ll call you,” I tell her. We quickly say good-bye and I type in Ali’s user name. Within a few seconds, I see her on the screen. We smile.
“Sorry I’m not dressed for this,” she says. She’s still in her concert makeup and hair, but she’s changed into a tank top. Her long hair is pulled back in a clip. Her cheekbones are high and pronounced, and her strong jaw squares her face. She’s too beautiful.
“You look great. I’ve never seen you in glasses before,” Ali says. I crinkle my nose. I forgot I was wearing them. I take them off quickly.
“I only wear them when my eyes get tired from looking at a computer all day.”
“No, please keep them on. I really like them,” she says. I hesitantly put them back on.
“I get to see you soon,” I say, excited. “I know it has to be hard on you out on the road. A few days off for everybody in your band…well, your entire crew, is probably just what everybody needs, huh?”
“Definitely. This is one of my tougher tours and I know we aren’t getting enough downtime. We are starting to get pissy with each other and it’s just time for a break,” she says. She sounds exhausted. “Hey, guess what?” she asks me, her voice softening.
“What?” I’m confused because she suddenly looks serious.
“I’m looking at your mouth right now and guess what I want to do?” she asks.
I lick my bottom lip and scrape my teeth across it, remembering what it was like to feel Ali’s soft lips on mine. I totally forget that she can see me like I can see her. A part of me is turned on; a part of me is scared to death. I remember Val telling me it’s like riding a bike. I tell myself to relax and have fun with her even though my stomach is in my throat and my heart has floated away somewhere.
“Well, then our weekend is going to be…nice.”
Ali’s eyes narrow at me. “I’m sure of it.” We stare at each other for a few seconds before I break eye contact. I can only be strong for so long.
I ask her about her concert. She gives me a quick rundown and yawns. I can tell she’s tired. She stretches and then rubs her collarbone. Her tank top stretches tighter across her breasts. Her nipples are erect and I’m trying so very hard not to stare. I keep swallowing. I actually hunger for her.
“I should probably let you sleep,” I say. I’m struck with an incredible urge to touch myself right now. That hasn’t happened in forever.
“No, we just logged on. Can we just talk for five more minutes?” she asks.
“Where are you staying tonight?” It’s a stupid question, but I need to get my mind off her breasts.
“On the bus. Bob is driving us to Milwaukee. See?” Ali holds up her phone so I can see the inside of the bus. “You haven’t been in the bus before, have you?” she asks me. I shake my head. “Well, let me give you the grand tour.” She holds up the phone and shows me the tiny kitchen on the left, the bathroom on the right. She walks us quietly past four bunks and I can hear her band snoring. I giggle. She giggles too and walks toward the back. “This…” She pauses in front of a door. “This is my room. I can’t sleep back here while Bob is driving, but I spend a lot of time in here before my concerts.” She opens the door. I see a full-size bed tucked in the far corner and a ton of storage cabinets on the other side.
“Wow. Nice.” I’m surprised at the luxury. “Your bed looks so comfortable.” I don’t realize the implication until Ali gives me an exaggerated wink. I drop my head into my hands. “Well, you know what I mean. It looks comfortable for a bed on a tour bus.” I peep back at her through my fingers. She laughs.
“It’s not bad and has really dark shades on the windows so I can sleep,” she says.
“You probably get about as much sleep as I do. I’ll have to start asking you if you’re getting sleep at night instead of you always worrying about me.”
“Probably not enough. I get a lot of rest. There isn’t much to do on a tour bus except rest, eat, and read. We can’t even exercise. I feel like a total lump when I’m done touring. I usually have to do some sort of sugar and fat detox when I’m done,” she says.
“How do you do that?”
“I go to a spa in Phoenix for a week. It’s the perfect getaway.”
“That sounds wonderful. I’m sure you deserve it.”
“My mom joins me. And Aunt Judy, the one you’ll meet at the lake. It’s kind of a new tradition now. Just the three of us,” she says.
“That’s really sweet. I’m glad you’re so tight with your family.” I make a mental note to call my mom and check in with her this week.
“How often do you see your parents?”
“Only a few times a year. I know I need to be a better daughter. Maybe after camp I’ll head down and hang out for a bit. Texas in August sounds like fun, huh?” I say.
“Well, I envy your small family. It’s total chaos with my family over holidays, birthdays, any get-togethers we have. We have to draw names at Christmas because there are so many of us. It’s overwhelming. Nice, but just a lot to take in at once,” she says.
“And I’ve always been envious of large families.”
“The grass is always greener. I wish we could have a Christmas where one person opens a gift, knows who it’s from, says thank you, and we move on to the next person. Half of the time in my family, nobody knows who got what from whom unless it’s an inside joke. It loses its meaning at that point. Don’t tell my mom, but sometimes I’m purposely a day or two late so that I get to pass out gifts and open them without interference,” Ali says.
“You’re lucky. I’m usually not around children during holidays. I wish I had that. You get to see your niece’s face when you give her gifts. And I know you spoil her.”
“Maybe a little bit. My niece is so much fun. Wait until you meet her. You’re going to love her. You’re good with kids,” Ali says.
“How could you know that? I always ran and hid when you showed up.”
“Just because you didn’t see me doesn’t mean I wasn’t watching you. And I don’t mean that in a stalker kind of way. I just like watching you.”
Again, a chill races through me. Her words unbalance me. I’m torn between being completely flattered and justifiably wary. I don’t know her dating habits. Historically, musicians are hailed as unfaithful. Not all of them, but I’m sure some are. It would be hard not to fall into bed with people who worship you. Just at the bar that one night, Ali had about eight women surrounding her. Of course she chose me, I remind myself, and smile at that memory. That was the first time we touched.
“I’ve made you uncomfortable again. I’m sorry. How about we both get some sleep and talk tomorrow?” she asks.
That makes me smile, but I don’t want her thinking I’m uncomfortable for the wrong reasons. I know she’s not a stalker.
“I think you’re very sweet, Ali. It’s just going to take some time to get used to you. That’s all.” I smile and hope she believes me. She winks and wishes me sweet dreams. We hang up. Life is definitely looking
up and I’m ready to embrace it.
I crawl into bed still smiling from our talk. I love how she gets me in a good mood. I like the slowness of our relationship. I never understood how people could have sex after one or two dates. What’s the connection? I like that Ali is willing to wait with me. I hope I’m worth waiting for.
I think about that moment when I decide to give myself to her and she is able to touch me how she wants to and I can touch her back. I think about her curves and what it would be like to feel her again. I can tell she’s going to be the aggressor, and I’m actually excited about it. I’ve never had a lover take control of me. I think about her kissing me and pinning me down. The idea excites me. I slip my hand down my boxers to touch myself. I’m already wet with need. I rub my slickness up to my clit and gently stroke in tiny circles. Oh, my God, I’ve missed this. I picture Ali lying between my legs and I slip off my boxers. I know I’m going to come quickly. I slide two fingers inside while still stroking my clit. I wish Ali’s mouth was on me. I wish her hands were the ones touching me and her fingers were inside me. I can feel myself climbing higher. I stroke faster and begin moving my hips up and down to find a good rhythm. Within seconds I explode. I lie there for a minute, absorbing the magnitude of this moment. I’ve actually masturbated because I’m excited about another person. Turns out, I’m fine. I’m better than fine. I’m fantastic.
Chapter Thirteen
The humidity of an average Kansas City summer night is horrific. I gave up on looking great for Ali the minute I arrived at the outdoor venue. The heat is oppressive. My clothes, what few I’m wearing, are sticking to me. The mist machines really aren’t cooling us off, but we’re all having such a great time, we don’t even care. I’d forgotten how much I love concerts. I smell the heat, spilled beer, hidden weed, and metal of the seats. Separately, not great smells, but thrown together with a beautiful woman singing to us and it’s a great concert.
