Better Than Okay

by Jacinta Howard

  Brian of course, was at work, doing catch-up on a Saturday. He yawned and stretched, leaning his head back against his chair and closing his eyes.

  “Tired?” she asked unnecessarily, grabbing the last shirt out of the laundry basket and folding it.

  The circles under his eyes gave his fatigue away. He shrugged, his eyes still closed.

  “A little.”

  “I can go,” she glanced at the time on her phone. It was almost eleven. “It’s late anyway.”

  He opened his eyes, his head still resting comfortably against the chair’s headrest. “Or you can stay.”

  “The night?” she asked dumbly.

  He grinned and shook his head. “Yes, the night, Destiny. I really don’t want you driving home this late by yourself anyway.”

  She looked at the t-shirt in her hands, considering his offer.

  “It’s just an offer to sleep, cutie pie. Nothing else.”

  She looked up at him. She didn’t want to push anything. But she wanted to stay with him even more.

  “If you really want to go home, I’ll trail you. But we’ve slept together millions of times, right?”

  She grinned, eyeing him. “Yes, but that was before I noticed your eyelashes.”

  He laughed and got up, heading toward his dresser.

  “I need you to stop talking about my eyelashes.” He took out a t-shirt and a pair of shorts. “It’s weird.”

  She giggled, holding his folded shirt in her lap. He walked over to her and dropped a kiss on her forehead.

  “I’m hopping in the shower.”

  A second later he was gone and she heard the water start in the bathroom across the hall. She got up and put his freshly folded clothes in his dresser then headed to Dorian’s room to use the master bath since he was out doing Lord knows what with Pink Dress.

  She entered Brian’s room fifteen minutes later, freshly scrubbed and relaxed in one of his t-shirts and a pair of boxers. He was perched on the edge of the bed in a ribbed tank top and basketball shorts. She hungrily took in the expanse of his chest and definition of his arms, her eyes falling on his NEEMA tattoo. His arms were on his knees and he was sending a text. He frowned then put the phone on the nightstand beside the bed and ran a hand over his head.

  “You alright?” she asked crossing the room, sitting next to him.

  “Yep.”

  She looked at him, reading the worry and stress on his face.

  “I tell you my stuff,” she said pointedly.

  He sighed and ran a hand over his head again. “Lexi just told me she needed some extra money because she trying to do cheerleading camp. Clara didn’t even mention she needed extra this month.”

  “You send them money every month?” Destiny asked, surprised.

  He nodded. “They need the help. My mom and Lex’s dad aren’t in the position to do anything. So, yeah.”

  He shrugged as if it was nothing. As if that was his job. She looked at him, loving him so much she wondered if it was emitting from her skin. He caught her staring at him and released a breath.

  “You keep looking at me like that and I may not be able to keep my word,” he teased her, his voice low.

  He brushed a finger over the tip of her nose and she grinned, embarrassed.

  “I can’t help it,” she murmured. “You’re the shit.”

  The corners of his mouth quirked up. “You think I’m the shit?” His eyes were a mixture of amusement and desire.

  She nodded, grinning.

  “It’s kind of funny when you say ‘shit,’” he admitted.

  She wrinkled her brow. “Why?”

  He shrugged then grinned crookedly. “You’re so damn sweet and cute… it’s just funny to hear it come out of your mouth.”

  “I’ve always said ‘shit’ though, Brian.”

  “And it’s always been funny.” He chuckled at her expression.

  “Will you do something for me?” she asked.

  “What?” he questioned warily, eyeing her eager expression.

  She looked towards the guitar in the far corner of the room and he immediately shook his head.

  “Come on, Brian, just something really short,” she pressed, raising up on her knees and hanging herself over his shoulder. She kissed the side of his face.

  “I haven’t played in forever,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Please,” she pressed, meeting his eyes. She bit her lip and he sighed resignedly.

  “Yay!” she said, clapping as she bounced on the bed.

  He shook his head and got up to turn down the music and grab the guitar, before returning to the edge of the bed.

  “What do you want to hear?” he asked with exaggerated exasperation.

  She knew he was kind of enjoying making her feel bad. She shrugged, still smiling broadly.

  “Whatever you want to play.”

  He shook his head again then began tuning the guitar. After a few seconds he strummed it softly, checking the sound. She leaned her back against the headboard, watching him. She smiled when he began playing the familiar chords to Bill Withers’s “Ain’t No Sunshine.”

  He fingers moved over the guitar confidently. He was controlling the instrument with ease totally comfortable commanding its gentle sound as the solemn chords reverberated through the space soulfully. He was better—way better—than she remembered. He glanced at her and smiled and she felt her stomach tighten in arousal. Good Lord. He was so fine. She smiled more broadly, biting her lip as she watched him.

  “Ain’t no sunshine when you’re gone…” he started singing, grinning playfully at her, changing the words to fit her. “It’s not warm when you’re away…”

  She giggled as he started bopping his head, still strumming as he sang the words. She knew he was playing around but he could actually sing, his husky baritone sliding over the words silkily.

  “…Ain’t no sunshine when you’re gone and you’re always gone too long, any time you go away…”

  She smiled, biting her lip as he continued singing. He grinned, watching as she scooted herself to the edge of the bed once he was finished. She leaned over and kissed his cheek before making herself pull away.

  “That was hot,” she admitted, sitting back, crossing her legs under her, trying to keep her raging hormones in check. She couldn’t stop her eyes from sliding over him again.

  “So, am I officially hotter than Prince?” he teased, his voice low.

  She shook her head, biting her lip again.

  “Take your shirt off and play. Then we’ll see.”

  He chuckled and pushed himself off of the bed to put the guitar back on its stand, turning the music back on low. She was still watching him hungrily. She knew she shouldn’t be, but damn.

  “It’s going to be really hard to just sleep with you tonight, after that,” she admitted.

  He shook his head as he crossed the room to turn off the light and shut the door.

  “If I woulda known that’s all it took, I would’ve played it for you two years ago,” he teased.

  She giggled and pulled back his dark blue comforter and sheets and crawled underneath, immediately remembering that she actually loved his bed. It was so comfortable. He crawled in beside her, and pulled her tightly against his chest. He draped his arm across her waist and interlaced his fingers with hers.

  She squirmed against him, totally awake and he nipped the back of her neck lightly.

  “Stop wiggling on me and go to sleep, cutie pie,” he murmured deeply.

  She could feel his arousal against her and wondered where he was getting his self-control.

  “Where are you getting your self-control from?” she asked aloud. She bit the inside of her cheek, thoroughly embarrassed.

  “I’ve had a long time to practice,” he answered immediately. “But it’s still really… hard.”

  She laughed, her face blushing at his deliberate double entendre.

  “When did you figure out that you even liked me like that?” she ask
ed curiously.

  “Is it important?” he asked.

  “No. I’m just curious.”

  “I’ve always thought you were beautiful,” he admitted after a long silence. “Even when I didn’t really know I did.”

  She frowned in confusion but he kept talking.

  “I’ve been attracted to you since high school. I’ve wanted you since you were a freshman in college. I knew I loved you a couple of years ago around the time you graduated. And I knew I was in love with you last year when you came home during Easter.”

  Her face was on fire, despite the fact that she’d been holding her breath the entire time he was talking.

  “Wow,” she breathed.

  He pulled her tighter against him.

  “You know how many times we’ve slept together since the first time I admitted to myself that I wanted you?”

  She did know. His restraint was damned commendable.

  “Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” she asked.

  “If I would’ve you think we’d be here, in this moment, now?”

  She thought about it for a second. No. They probably wouldn’t be.

  “Things happen in their own time. I’m actually kinda glad I waited. My head wasn’t totally in the right place back then anyway. I probably would’ve messed it up and we wouldn’t be here now.”

  He paused. “And we both know how tragic that would be, seeing that I’m the shit and all.”

  She giggled and slapped behind her, hitting his thigh, feeling his deep chuckle vibrate against her back. She sighed, biting her lip.

  “Brian, you make me feel so…” she paused, trying to think of the right word. “Good.”

  He chuckled again. “You really need to work on your adjectives. How about spectacular, awesome, remarkable, extraordinary…”

  She laughed and rolled her eyes. “How about shut up.”

  He nipped her neck again and she yelped, scooting away from him. He laughed and pulled her back into his embrace. She laid there for a few minutes listening to his calm breathing mingling with the mellow sounds of the music, feeling the rise and fall of his chest, the steady beat of his heart against her. It was relaxing. Comforting. She felt her eyelids getting heavy.

  “Brian?”

  “Yeah?” His voice was low and throaty, laced with sleepiness.

  “Why’d you get ‘grace’ tattooed on your arm?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

  He was quiet for a long time and she shifted against him.

  “I got it the last time my mom disappeared. It reminds me of how God always shows His grace to me…” he finally answered, his voice low. “Even when it feels like He’s not.”

  She released a breath. After a few seconds, he pulled her even closer and kissed the back of her neck. She closed her eyes, thinking about what he said, totally content and safe in his arms.

  Chapter 20

  The vibe at work on Wednesday was off. Not in an immediately noticeable kind of way, it was more like a feeling, a sense that something was about to happen. Destiny readjusted her headphones in her ears and stared at the blinking cursor on her computer screen, trying to swallow her sense of dread. It was probably coming from their publisher, Scoop Hernandez’s return to the office.

  Whenever he was in the building the tension was always thick, mostly because he insisted on degrading his entire staff, no matter what they did. It didn’t help that he was also really weird and generally creepy. Destiny hated the way he looked at her and even at Philly. Like he wanted to shake some salt and pepper on them and eat them for dinner with some fava beans and a nice Chianti or something.

  Lunch today?

  Her chat screen lit up with Dorian’s name.

  Can’t. My publisher is in town. Have a staff meeting at 3:45 and I gotta get caught up.

  Sucks for you.

  No shit, Sherlock.

  Dude, how old are you??? Nobody says that anymore.

  She could imagine him scowling.

  Well, I do.

  Of course you do, dork.Talk to Chipmunk?

  She wrinkled her face, wondering what was up.

  Not since she got to Tallahassee. Why?

  Wondered.

  She frowned again.

  Why?

  Just wondered.

  Why?

  BECAUSE I WONDERED.

  She blinked, surprised at his cyber outburst.

  Whoa, Sparky. Calm down. Why don’t you just call her?

  She seemed a little sad.

  She nodded her head in agreement, as if he could see her.

  Granddad isn’t doing so hot, that’s probably why. And she broke up with Mark but he keeps bugging her.

  Yeah. I know.

  He’s an asshole of epic proportions.

  Yeah. I know.

  Call her.

  Yeah.

  She looked up and saw Jason making his way to her desk.

  Gotta go. Later alligator.

  Bye, dork.

  She watched him able toward her desk, his gait unhurried as always.

  “What’s up, Destiny?”

  “Hey, Jason,” she replied, pushing back from her desk slightly.

  He perched himself on the edge of her desk, looking down at her. He picked up a concert DVD some unheard of singer had sent her for potential review, frowning as he examined it.

  “The vibe is a little off today, huh?” he asked, glancing around.

  She nodded. “Definitely.”

  “Just checking to see if it was just me. I guess it’s always a little off whenever Scoop is here though.”

  He shrugged and dropped the DVD back onto her desk and stood. She nodded again in agreement. “I’m really not looking forward to this meeting,” he breathed, rolling his eyes.

  “Me either,” she quickly agreed. “I’m not in the mood today.”

  He chuckled. “I feel you. Let me get back here and finish retouching these images. I’ll see you in the meeting.”

  “Cool.”

  She watched him saunter away and turned back to her computer and her blinking cursor. It’s like it was taunting her— You can’t think of anything to write, Naaa-na-na-na-naaa. Blink. Blink. You can’t type a single solitary sentence. Ha. Ha. Blink. Blink. Blink.

  She smirked at the computer and abandoned the idea of writing the editorial she was working on and started transcribing an interview she’d done with a young rapper from Liberty City. That would teach her cursor to mock her.

  A few hours later, she’d finished transcribing two interviews and had finally gotten around to finishing the editorial she’d been trying to write. It was three-forty and the staff was already starting to file into the conference room. No way she was being late for this meeting. She grabbed her notepad and pen and followed Jason into the office. Scoop didn’t like them using laptops during his meetings because he was paranoid and convinced everyone was secretly typing about him behind his back.

  “Showtime,” Jason mumbled just loud enough for her to hear.

  She slid into her seat and smiled at Gabe who was already in the room, sitting to the right of the seat he normally occupied. He half-heartedly smiled back and quickly looked away. Oh, shit.

  She looked around the room. Lina didn’t work on Wednesdays, and Destiny was kind of glad she wasn’t here. She had a feeling that whatever was about to go down couldn’t be good. Everyone else’s expression was guarded, except Chuck, who seemed generally unconcerned with anything that was going on around him. No one was really talking and when someone did say something it was hushed, like they were in a library and in fear of getting kicked out by the librarian.

  At exactly three forty-five Scoop entered the room in a rush. He always walked like he was in hurry, as if he had somewhere direly important to be. It was comical because he also pimped when he walked, and the combination made him appear oddly off-balance whenever he was moving. He dressed in his usual attire—slacks and a button-up shirt that was unbuttoned way too far and showed off
way more of his chest hair than Destiny ever hoped to see. He looked like he was about to go film a seventies car chase.

  He slowed as he approached his seat at the head of the table and pulled his chair out dramatically doing that thing where you try to look at everyone in the room at the same time with his eyes. Finally, he slid into his seat. He still hadn’t uttered a word and Destiny shifted in her chair.

  “As you all know, UMusic is my baby,” he started without preamble. He paused theatrically and looked around the room. “I started this magazine with a hundred and fifty dollars and a dream ten years ago.”

  Destiny stared at him, wondering how the hell his nose wasn’t growing.

  “So, it’s with great…trepidation, apprehension, hesitation, and reluctance that I tell you this.”

  Destiny stared at him, her heart starting to pound a little harder. She couldn’t help but wonder if he realized that all of those words meant the same thing. She doubted it. She glanced at Gabe, who looked like he was about to throw up.

  “The magazine has been struggling for quite some time. People just aren’t buying print ads anymore, and to be frank, you all didn’t help the sales team out much with the content you were putting out.”

  She peeked at Gabe again. His expression had turned hard and he looked like he wanted to stab Scoop with his pen.

  “So, as of today, at the end of this meeting to be precise, we will be closing the doors.”

  You could’ve heard a pin drop as everyone looked around the room, the expressions ranging from disbelief to sadness to rage. The rage belonged to Philly.

  “Closing the doors, meaning?”

  Of course, it was Chuck who spoke.

  “Meaning we will no longer be in operation. UMusic has printed its last issue as of June. Of course, I will be using this building for one of my other businesses that is actually making money, so the doors will be open in theory. You just won’t be here anymore.”

  He paused again, she guessed for dramatic effect, though at this point she was having a hard time registering anything he was saying. She didn’t have a job. As if her life could stand to be any shittier, now on top of everything else she was dealing with, she was out of a job. She glanced at Jason who was shaking his head, a disgusted grimace on his face.