by Jacob Chance
“Friends don’t ask each other out on dates.”
“I must’ve gotten the definition of friends wrong, but I’ll try harder next time.”
“Really?” She’s angry. “This needs to stop. We’ve played this game long enough.”
“Is that a definitive no?” I jest, fighting to hold back a smile.
“Yes, Jesse.” She’s not amused, and I find her anger extremely attractive. Maybe I should offer my body up, so she can work some of that aggression out of her system. It’s not good to hold it in.
“So, having sex would be off the table?”
She rolls her eyes. “It’s never been on the table, Jesse. Only in your delusional mind.”
“Then this is turn down two hundred ninety-one?”
“Yep.” She avoids looking at me.
“Just checking. I’ll see you soon.” Leaning over I kiss the top of her head and stroll down the hallway. Grinning widely, I step on the elevator, encouraged by her reaction. Anger means she cares, which proves I’m wearing her down.
This was the first time in three years of asking that she didn’t make up a silly reason why she couldn’t go out with me. That’s part of the game we play.
It’s only a matter of time until my persistence pays off.
Chapter Three
Lilah
Two weeks later
Why didn’t I return to my hotel room earlier when my coworkers started to filter out? If I had, I wouldn’t be sitting at the bar next to Jesse fighting the urge to bask in his attention instead of pretending I’m indifferent. I’m not and keeping up this act is becoming increasingly difficult with each passing day and every moment we spend together.
“How come we’ve never had sex?”
“What?” My head snaps around and I arch a dark blonde eyebrow. The cacophony of deafening chatter inside the crowded bar has me wondering what Jesse said.
“How come we’ve never had sex?” he repeats. I should’ve assumed what his question was and even anticipated it. He moves closer, his gray eyes sear into mine over the half full glass of whiskey he nonchalantly holds in his masculine hand.
My stomach whirls all topsy-turvy from his words making it difficult to breathe. Shifting my weight on the stool, I lean my arms onto the cool wood of the bar and lick my suddenly dry lips.
What should I say this time?
I could go with a vague answer. Because you’re you and I’m me.
Maybe I should give him a little more honesty? Because you make me feel different than any man has. Because you make me feel special and I could get used to it - I already am.
Or maybe, I could reveal some of my fears. Because I’ve been attracted to you for three years, but if we actually did this, our lives as we know it would be over?
I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready for that. How do I choose between a romantic happily ever after or my career?
“Lilah?” He nudges his muscular arm into mine and the innocent contact sends a bolt of attraction zipping through every inch of me. “Are you going to answer?”
I watch as his full lips form the question all the while imagining the wicked things his mouth could do to me. Time slows when he’s close and my body pleasantly hums.
Maybe it’s from the endless stream of beers I’ve been drinking?
No. It’s not. He’s always had this effect on me and it’s why I do my best to avoid placing myself in situations such as this. But he’s relentless in his pursuit and sometimes I get so damn tired of saying no.
My eyes sweep from his smirking mouth over his straight nose and connect with steel gray irises. I part my lips to reply only to close them as I struggle for what to say. I only recently admitted to myself that he’s wearing me down, which was a giant step. It’s simpler to deny my feelings and pretend I don’t care for him, but neither of those are true.
“Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at a loss for words before.” He studies me thoughtfully. I can’t decipher what the expression on his face means. He’s a secret code I’ll never break. I’ve known him for years, but do I really know him at all?
Still unsure of how to reply, my shoulders rise in a brief shrug. I grab the bottle in front of me and take a deep pull of beer. My eyes fall closed as the cool, golden liquid quenches my parched throat. Swallowing the remainder, I slam the empty bottle of Corona down on the shiny wood like I’m at a frat party instead of an upscale hotel bar. All that’s missing is a loud burp, but I’m too classy for that - always the professional.
Jesse chuckles, his ever-present smirk twitching along the left side of his lips. His dimple peeks out of the dark stubble dotting the lower half of his face, teasing me and testing my prudent tendencies.
Is he laughing at me?
“What?” I inquire with a deep scowl creasing between my well-groomed brows.
“You’re adorable. Do you know that?”
“Adorable? Sure.” Sarcasm drips from my tone.
“If you’re not going to answer my question, then I think you should let me take you to dinner. It’s the least you can do after turning me down two hundred and ninety-two times.”
“Bu... but,” I sputter.
“There’s no but, only yes. When can I take you out?”
“Jesse,” I groan. “Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?”
“Wasting our time. We shouldn’t even be talking about this nevermind going to dinner.”
“Why the hell not?” he fires the question at me in a bristling tone.
“We’re not compatible.”
“How do you know, Lilah? We’ve never spent enough time together to find out.”
“We’re so different.”
“Haven’t you heard opposites attract?” He playfully taps me on the end of my nose.
“They hardly last though,” I refute.
“Is that what you base all your relationships on?”
Pftt, what relationships? I can’t remember the last time I went on a date.
“Do you conduct a statistical analysis first before you’ll agree to go out with someone?” He raises the whiskey to his lips, sipping leisurely. I watch the muscles contract in his corded neck as he swallows the amber alcohol. “What’s the probability of us having fun on a date?”
“I’d need more time to figure that out. There’s data I’d need to calculate to know for sure,” I jest.
“Well, I might not be an expert in statistics like you, but I sure as hell know we have chemistry in spades and I enjoy your company. Both of those things mean there’s a ninety-nine-point nine percent probability that we’ll have a great time.” He feathers a soft line along the top of my forearm with the tip of his index finger. “I say will because I’m one-hundred percent sure I’m taking you out.”
“Mixing business with pleasure is the biggest mistake of all. We work together.”
He leans in, lowering his head toward mine.
Is he going to kiss me?
Pausing when our lips are only inches apart, he reminds me why this can never happen. “Yes, we do and you’re my boss.”
“Oh God, don’t remind me.”
“Should I call you boss lady?”
I jab my elbow into his arm. “Ugh, this is why we can’t go out.”
“Because I called you boss lady?”
“No, because you work for my family and for me. My father would have a coronary.” I pause to shake my head. “No, he’d fire my ass and then he’d fire yours.”
“Hey, that could work. Then we’d be able to date,” he quips with a teasing grin.
I’m confident if my father had to choose between firing one of us, he’d rather lose me. Jesse is one of the most popular up and coming wrestlers in WCW. Dad sees dollar signs all around him and in his eyes, Jesse can do no wrong. With his gorgeous face, chiseled body and natural athleticism, my dad recognizes the immense potential Jesse has to become WCW World Heavyweight Champion and one of the biggest names in professional wrestling.
&
nbsp; If we did go out, I’m sure I’d somehow be found to blame for it. Even though he’s six feet three and weighs two-hundred-forty pounds to my one hundred twenty. It’s not like I could physically force him to do something unwanted.
“What d’ya think? Should we go for it?” Jesse makes a last-ditch effort to change my mind.
Rolling my eyes, I hold up my hand, flagging down the bartender. Pointing to my empty bottle, I signal for another. I don’t really want more, but I need something to take my mind off Jesse. Gathering up my long, dark blonde strands, I arrange them to rest on my right shoulder and shield the side of my face from Jesse’s intense eyes. His single-minded focus is giving me anxiety. I’ve always been nervous and awkward around him; though I’ve never spent this much time alone with him or been stuck in such tight quarters before. His visits to my office tend to be short as if he’s afraid to wear out his welcome. His knee presses mine and I’m unable to shift away because the seat to my left is taken and people are standing three deep around the bar. Escape isn’t an option. If it was, I’d have run at his first question.
The bartender slides a fresh beer down the polished bar and I smile my thanks.
“So, when am I taking you out?”
“Are you drunk?” I question, running the lime wedge around the lip of my bottle before pushing it inside.
“Do I seem like I am?” He’s amused by my question.
My eyes trek over his face. He looks sober, but he usually saves these moments for times when we’re alone in my office or other people aren’t around.
Why does he feel the need to do this now?
“You don’t look drunk, but I can’t figure out why I keep rejecting you and you’re still sitting here taking it, instead of being out there.” I wave a hand in the air over my head gesturing to the crowd behind us.
“Why should I be anywhere else?”
“Well out there,” I point my thumb, “are a bunch of horny women who would sleep with you in a heartbeat.”
Turning his head, he flicks a quick glance into the throng of patrons before facing me once more. “And what about right here?” His finger sensually scrolls over the back of my hand.
“What about here?” I raise my fresh brew to my lips and take a large sip.
“You’re not a horny woman?”
What?
I inhale, shocked at his question and begin to choke on the liquid as it goes down the wrong way. Catching my breath for a second, I choke out, “no.” My eyes water as I continue to cough. Jesse's large palm rubs circles between my shoulder blades until the coughing recedes to an occasional sputter. There’s barely time to recover before his hand slides from the middle of my back and hooks the outside of my shoulder urging me closer.
“So, let me get this straight. You’re not horny? Or you don’t want to sleep with me?” he questions, plunging right back into our conversation. Each of his words are a warm caress fanning across my cheek tempting me to turn my head and press our lips together. But I can't.
“No to both.” I force a scowl.
“Ever?” he presses.
“Jesse.” There’s warning in my tone and I shrug until he removes his arm from around me.
He grins widely, showing off that captivating dimple and straight white teeth. He’s so gorgeous; it’s not fair to the entire female population.
“I know you’ve been avoiding me for the past two weeks.”
Crap. I was hoping he wouldn’t call me on my juvenile actions. I needed a break from him to regroup and remember my career is my focus. I worked from home or found reasons to be out of the office during the times he typically stops by.
“I’ve missed you.” His gravelly whisper has me ready to confess how much I’ve missed him too. Stay strong. Work comes first.
The person to the left of me rises to his feet and the crowd parts as he moves away from the bar. Taking advantage of the opportunity, I slip from the stool, throw a twenty down next to my bottle and worm my way through the small opening in the flock of people until I’m swallowed by the crowd.
“Hey. Lilah,” Jesse calls out behind me, but I don’t hesitate or look back. I head in the direction of the exit and keep my feet shuffling forward as fast as the sea of bodies allows. I’m being cowardly by running off, but I’m in self-preservation mode right now.
Whenever World Class Wrestling rolls into town, most restaurants or bars we go to are packed to full capacity; every hotel has a crowd waiting outside. We’re good for business, but we work hard to make sure we stay on top. We hire the best wrestlers and script writers out there, so we can provide top notch entertainment.
Once I’m free of the bar, I scurry as fast as my tapping high heels will allow on the slippery surface of the marble floors. I’m able to slide inside the elevator and just before the doors close I catch sight of Jesse. Noting the stubborn set of his jaw and his determined stare locked on me, I tremble; shivers run from the base of my spine to the top of my head. Hopefully, it’s not a premonition of what’s to come when we see each other again.
Chapter Four
Jesse
Fuck. Lilah disappears as the steel elevator doors glide together, blocking my view of her wide green eyes. Running a hand through my hair, I try to lock down the frustration I’m experiencing. I imagined tonight’s outcome being vastly different than this.
Did I think she’d fall into my bed with a snap of my fingers?
No, not at all, but I expected we’d spend the rest of the night talking and maybe if I was lucky I’d be able to steal a kiss. I’ve been wondering what her bow shaped upper lip tastes like for far too long. Apparently, I’m not going to find out anytime soon. As it stands now, I don’t know when I’ll get another opportunity to be alone with her. She’s careful to keep her distance from me and all the other male wrestlers when we’re on the road. Come to think of it, she’s not friendly with the female wrestlers either.
She could prefer to be alone, but I think it has more to do with being Russell Turner’s daughter. There’s a certain set of expectations that go along with that and she handles the pressure brilliantly for someone so young. She’s only twenty-five. I would know; I’m five years older than her and I've been attracted to her since she began working for her father. For three years I’ve purposefully inserted myself in her life to maintain contact and get to know her better. I’ve taken every opportunity I could to ask her out and have kept our interactions briefer than I’d like so she’ll tolerate them. If she forbids me from seeing her, I’ll be lost. I live for the few minutes we get each week even though she’ll most likely never give in and go on a date with me. I know this and yet I find myself unable to give up hope. Hope is a powerful emotion. As long as it remains there’s a chance. And one chance is all I need to make her mine.
There’s so much about her I already know just from the short moments we’ve spent together and my own observations. Her favorite dessert is anything with chocolate. She sleeps on every flight. She likes to follow rules. Corona is her favorite beer. She hates chili and she refuses to try sushi. Her high school boyfriend was her first love. She gets embarrassed when people sing happy birthday to her and she can tell when someone is mad when they post emoticons instead of stickers. I’m not even sure I know what that means, but when I overheard her explaining her “skillz” to her best friend Carly, it seemed like the most interesting thing at the time.
Over the past months, I’ve been wondering how she’s held my interest for so long and there’s no easy answer for that question. No other woman has ever held my attention for a fraction of the time Lilah has. She makes me feel excited and happy every time I see her. My chest gets weak and my heart pounds harder. I feel more alive when I’m with her than at any other time.
Tonight, was the final straw. Sitting next to her, breathing in her scent, and watching her physical reaction to my proximity had me mentally declaring I’m done waiting. All bets are off. I’ve been more than patient with her. Maybe too much?
It
’s time to stake my claim and make her mine.
“Hey Jess, what’s up bud?” Wyatt is one of the hardest working wrestlers in the business. He isn’t quite “over” with the crowds yet but it’s only a matter of time.
“Not much. Just trying to decide if I’m done for the night or if I’ve got a few more left in me.”
He slaps me on the back. “Yeah right, me too,” he laughs. “Now let’s get this night started. The sun isn’t out yet so it’s still early.”
It’s hard to argue with an idea that sounds so right. “Works for me.”
As we walk back toward the bar a few eager female fans approach, but my thoughts are still on Lilah. I quietly sign autographs for each of them, answer a few questions about upcoming matches and ignore several of their suggestive comments.
“All hail the king.” Wyatt calls out as we enter the crowded bar. “You weren’t looking for a quiet night were ya?” He smiles, winks and throws his arms over a gorgeous blonde…and her redheaded friend. “Too late now bud.”
The next few hours are a blur of drinks, shouting and raucous laughter as we hold court at a table in the back with a few more of World Class Wrestling’s finest. I sign my name on more than one woman’s tits and pose for copious amounts of pictures, but all that goes along with being Jesse Gunn. By the time we leave, the crowded bar has swelled to standing room only and I’m fairly certain we paid for the majority of the alcohol served.
Stepping out of the hotel gift shop the next morning, I notice Lilah walking across the lobby toward the main exit. Shoving the ibuprofen I just purchased into the side pocket of my cargo shorts, I move in her direction. She steps outside into the early morning North Carolina air and I know in only a few more hours the temperature will be melt your skin hot. I follow behind her, curious as to what she has planned this morning, but keeping enough distance that she won’t detect me. We’ve been on the road for two weeks now, travelling from one state to the next and she knows no one here.
