STAIN (My Soul To Wake Book 1)

by Oakes, Tara

  Once my stomach has settled, I gingerly lift myself from the tiled floor and undress from my travel clothes, leaving them in a heaping pile on the vanity. I turn the ornate knobs in the shower stall and listen as the rushing water cascades from the head. I yearn to feel it cleanse my skin and the memories that continue to make me ill.

  I don’t test the water before entering, as I need to feel its benefits so badly. I wash away the travel grime and imagine my ridiculous reaction to a simple name being rinsed down the drain along with it.

  ~*~

  Ouch, ouch, ouch. Oh my God, it stings so bad!

  I throw the mascara wand down harshly on the vanity and hold my eye tightly while hopping around the bathroom. Why do women do this to themselves?

  Once the stinging has subsided, I resign myself to the same beauty routine that’s gotten me through every other day of my adult life. I reach into the small makeup bag and free a pre-moistened eye makeup remover pad from its wrapping, and swipe at the sorry attempt at mascara along my lashes.

  Once my eyes are clear from the black stain, I smooth a thin layer of tinted moisturizer over my recently scrubbed skin. A little bit of bronzer, a little bit of blush and some lip gloss. Done.

  I hastily sweep up the mess my shimmer powder’s made on the white marble with my hand and a tissue. I pucker my pink lips into another tissue before hitting the light switch and leaving the room. It might be a little cold later, so I use some grown-up decision-making skills to bring along my leather crop jacket.

  The hotel hallway is busy with noises from other nearby guests entering and exiting their own rooms. I knock two times on the closed door opposite mine. I press my ear up to the smooth painted wood and listen to the electric humming of the hair dryer within. I knock louder to make sure I’m heard this time.

  Nina swings open the door, fully dressed and looking frustrated. I scan her outfit as she simultaneously scans mine, laughing together when finished. Our outfits are eerily similar, as we purchased them together several weeks ago. Denim skirts, flowy gauze-like halter-tops. The only thing different is the color and the footwear.

  Mine is cream, hers pink, and my brown leather riding boots are much more casual than her wedge heels.

  “I’ll change,” she volunteers, tugging at her matching top and disappearing further into the large room.

  The hairdryer abruptly shuts off, so I peek into the bathroom where Court’s brushing out her recently dried layers. She nods at her reflection, and blows herself a kiss, unaware that I’m observing.

  “That’s,” she points to my clothing as she passes by, “actually cute.”

  Nina rejoins us, now in a one-shouldered black top.

  “Finally.” She rolls her eyes at Courtney. “Let’s get a move on. We’re already running late.”

  We make our way down to the lobby.

  “We have reservations?” I ask our event coordinator.

  “Nope,” she calls back to me as she’s taken up the lead.

  I catch up to her speed walking. “Then how is it that we’re late?”

  ~*~

  Salem Beer Works is a short walk from the hotel. The night is a clear one, with the lingering haze of early dusk settling around the growing crowd walking the streets. With a mixture of obvious tourists, college kids out for a night on the town, and locals navigating the hordes to run their errands, I grab each of the girl’s hands to keep from getting separated.

  The waiter from back at the hotel was right, we’re able to be seated straight away, but I can tell the place is filling quickly. Twenty minutes later and we would be caught standing in line on a wait list.

  The atmosphere is a cool one, with music pumping through hidden speakers. It appears happy hour’s in full swing… it’s clear that most people standing near the bar have a healthy buzz started.

  We’re seated in a booth by a hostess named Melanie and given menus to browse. Knowing Nina, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s already downloaded the food choices on her iPad and selected our entrees.

  I need to get a beer in her quick to loosen her up, ensuring the rest of the night won’t be a regimented nightmare.

  “First round’s on me,” I scoot out of the flat wooden bench seat of the polished booth we’d been seated in, leaving my thin leather jacket behind. With only money in hand, I step closer to the crowded bar with my boots echoing a muted beat as I get closer.

  Two thirty-something year olds have just been handed their fruity drinks, and migrate away from the serving counter. With the opportunity presenting itself, I quickly step into the vacancy before someone else has the chance. Rectangular wooden boards are hanging behind the barkeep, each listing a different flavor being offered. I scan them quickly, not wanting to hold up a line.

  “Three Blueberry Ales please,” I request loudly, to the college frat boy on opposite side of the counter. He nods, pursing his lower lip in approval of my selection, and gets busy filling my order.

  Little square cardboard coasters speckle the bar top randomly, with the establishment’s logo colorfully displayed. I examine one closely while waiting for our drinks.

  One at a time, the amber-colored, foam topped tumblers are placed in front me until all three are lined up neatly, little bubbles of carbonation dancing in the liquid. I thank the handsome barkeep and slip him a twenty-dollar bill. I know I’m due two dollars in change, but I tell the man to keep it for his trouble.

  “Looks like you need some help there.”

  I turn sharply to the voice that must be addressing me.

  A golden-haired man stands near, deep brown eyes set on me with an amused look on his full lips as two of my hands circle around the wide brims of cold beer glasses. His eyes seem to dance as I scan his face. His short hair is thick, choppy, in an almost perfect way. The lower half of his uncommonly gorgeous face is clean shaven and smooth, although his skin is roughened, maybe from sun.

  My eyes follow the curve of his neck where the leather collar of his jacket falls lazily. They move to his square, broad shoulders, and I picture his working in some way outdoors, honing the bulges that tease through his clothing and earning him the sun-kissed touch to his skin.

  “I’m—I’m sorry?” I manage to speak. I’m not one to get easily tongue tied, but I’m almost positive I’ve never seen a man as beautiful as this. My mouth dries.

  His eyes dart to the drinks on the wooden bar top. “Unless you can balance three beers in two hands, I think I should help you.”

  My eyes fixate on his moving lips. I feel myself swallow hard as his lips move rhythmically, speaking the words. When he’s finished with his observation and offer of help, I swear I see the corner of his mouth twitch.

  “You doubt me?” I ask, in a teasing voice.

  His heavily lidded eyes squint, and he plays along. “Not for a minute.”

  I smile and nod, accepting the challenge. With my attention now fully on the task literally at hand, I take the two glasses with a firm grip on each and slide them together, clinking with the third glass between.

  I lean in close to the bar, pressing my front in as the three glasses are pulled in. I balance the filled tumblers against each other, and against my body. Once I’m sure I’ve got a decent grip, I stand straight, bringing the clutched beers upright with me. I look down at the trio of drinks, with the middle one perfectly balanced between my breasts.

  Then, I smugly acknowledge my handsome audience as he watches. I had fully expected his gaze to drift down to the exposed cleavage, but am surprised to find them intensely locked on my own eyes.

  “Such talents,” he compliments me, without a hint of sarcasm. I feel my cheeks flush under the weight of his stare.

  I can feel the sweat from the cold glasses beading and dripping down the smooth surfaces, dampening the lightweight material of my top. He graciously steps aside, allowing me plenty of space for my circus trick, all the while watching every movement intently, as if he were studying me.

  I take one careful step f
orward, as softly as I can. The movement causes a wake in the liquid, splashing up against my skin. I clench my eyes tight in embarrassment as I feel the beer overflow.

  The handsome stranger politely stifles his laugh. My table seems miles away, and I picture a further loss of drink with each step.

  “Maybe just a little help after all?” I sheepishly concede.

  With his own beer in one hand, he uses the other to settle on the middle glass centered on my chest. His fingers lightly scrape against the skin of my clavicle, and I feel his warmth as it fights against the coolness of the drink. The contradiction in temperatures confuses me, causing a swirl in my mind that throws me off kilter.

  “You need only ask,” he takes hold of the drink and lifts it gingerly from where it was held in place. I feel the movement of the glass on fabric as the drink is freed, sliding against me in the process.

  The feeling is intense, teasing, almost. I find myself taking a sharp breath as the sensation ends, with my admirer holding the beer as a trophy. Does he know what he’s doing to me? Could that look of triumph on his perfectly chiseled mouth be one of gloating?

  “Lead the way,” he says.

  I walk in front, returning to my table anything but empty handed. I feel his eyes on my backside as I bring us to my friends.

  Court spots him immediately, and I see her lick her lips. Great. Without a doubt, he’s the hottest guy I’ve ever seen, not to mention he’s got a sinful touch from what I’ve felt so far, and here I am, leading him right into her clutches.

  Courtney is a vixen of her own admission. She knows she’s a redheaded walking Barbie doll, and so do the guys. A part of me regrets the impending introduction, and thinks twice about it.

  “Who do we have here?” she asks in an obscenely sweet voice as we reach them.

  Regret or not, I’ll have to introduce everyone. I hand one of the beers in my hands to Nina, and the other to Court, although it does little if nothing to distract her. It suddenly occurs to me that I don’t know the name of the walking God next to me.

  “Right. Courtney, Nina… this is-” I turn to my new beer-carrying assistant and open my eyes wide, urging him to interject.

  He laughs. “I’m Will.”

  He sets our third drink down on the side of the booth near the empty bench and pushes it in to the far side. He sets his own half-empty glass down near us and places the palm of his hand on the small of my back, guiding me into the seat.

  I slide in, moving down to the where he’s placed my beer. To my surprise, he follows me, seating himself next to me.

  The booth is not especially large, and given that my jacket and purse are occupying the space near my end of it, it makes for an even tighter fit. I feel his thigh touch mine, the harshness of his denim is rough against the patch of bare skin between the hem of my skirt and the top of my boot.

  Either one of us could shift, angle ourselves to break the contact, but neither of us does. I feel awkward, like a thirteen-year-old teenybopper sitting next to her middle school crush. I’m unsure of what to do, or say, next. So… I do the safest thing given my situation. I drink.

  I’ve never had Blueberry beer before, but it’s surprisingly good. It keeps me occupied and more importantly keeps me from making a fool of myself by attempting a conversation with this man who is little more than a stranger, but whom I secretly pray won’t leave.

  “You girls here for a visit?” He breaks the silence.

  I’m not at all surprised that Court is the one to answer. “Sure are. Nina here’s planned some things out but we’d be forever grateful for some pointers.”

  Will chuckles to himself. “I wouldn’t know where to start. Depends on what you’re looking for. The touristy stuff is pretty well laid out on all the maps. Is that what brings you here?”

  I feel as if he’s asking me directly, his head cocked and eyes shifted in my direction. I blush and take another sip of my beer.

  “We’re here for five days so we’d like to see it all. Although Leah is more interested in the boring stuff.” Court’s eyes dart back and forth between Will and me, curiously watching the body language between us as it adds even more combustion to the pressure cooker I’m feeling inside.

  “Leah?” he asks me, softly speaking my name. “That’s a beautiful name. It fits you.”

  Court sighs deep, conceding some imaginary lost cause. She doesn’t wallow long. Instead she takes solace in her beer, catching up with the rest of us. Nina’s almost done with hers, holding the back of her hand up to hide the burp that the hastily gulped beer solicits.

  Will flags down our waitress, signaling another round by swirling his finger in a circle, pointing to all of our dwindling glasses.

  “Are you from around here?” I scrounge up enough courage to join the conversation, although I fear Will may think I’m rude already for staying silent so long.

  I see his finger twitch and tap the tumbler in his hand anxiously. “You could say that. Salem’s where my family comes from.”

  I perk up. “Really? How far back? I’m reading a book about the founding families of Salem. Maybe yours is in it?”

  “Possibly. I’ve heard there were some of us around back then. Trumbull. That’s my family name. This book you’re reading… are you interested in that kind of stuff?”

  I shift my body to face him however I can with the limited space we have.

  “I think so. I’ve never really given it much thought, but since we’ve gotten here, it feels… I don’t know- important somehow.”

  I feel foolish at my over dramatization of an answer and bury my unease into the alcohol at hand, finishing off my glass to catch up with Nina’s empty one. The waitress appears on cue, clearing away the discarded ones and setting fresh drinks before each of us.

  “This is so good!” Nina is already loosening up. At this rate, she may forget all about her iPad for the rest of the night. One can only hope.

  “So do you make a habit of coming here alone?” I ask Will.

  “Who says I’m alone?” he answers.

  Of course. Why on earth would I think a drop-dead gorgeous guy like this would actually be alone? He’s probably got a girlfriend stuck in the ladies room, ready to reclaim him at any moment. The friendly local who simply helped a girl carry an extra drink, and stayed for some small talk waiting for the girlfriend to present herself and save him from boredom.

  He can see my embarrassment at my assumption. “I was supposed to meet up with a buddy, but he bailed on me. His girl wasn’t feeling the whole third wheel thing.”

  A surge of hope shows signs of life. Third wheel? Hmm… so he doesn’t have a plus one to bring along. This is promising.

  “So what do you do?” I strive to get some more information. “Besides helping damsels in distress?”

  Court and Nina have started their own little conversation, leaving Will and me to ourselves.

  “Construction. You?” he returns the question.

  I sip some foam from my beer. “I manage one of my family’s businesses. A coffee shop.”

  “You--” he takes his thumb and moves carefully as I eye him suspiciously. He swipes the calloused skin of his finger pad across my lower lip. “-- have some foam on you.”

  My breath hitches at his touch, and I freeze. His finger swipes back and forth, removing the froth. I feel my lips part, my eyes set like stone on him as he does whatever this is that he’s doing to me. My stomach flips.

  The bench opposite us is awkwardly quiet all of a sudden and I glance over at Nina and Court with their mouths agape, watching us. I pull back bashfully.

  There it is again! His lip twitched.

  ~*~

  Two rounds of drinks and a meal later, we’d covered the basics. Hobbies, favorite movies, bands. His favorite food is pot roast and he owns a small house on the outskirts of the city.

  Nina and Court have added to our conversation from time to time but mainly kept to themselves. I can see them begin to fade. The effects of the alcoh
ol setting in. Reluctantly, I suggest we head back to the hotel.

  The check is settled against my protests as Will insists on covering the tab. He helps me slip into my jacket, one arm and then the other, settling his large hands on my shoulders for a moment.

  He insists once more, this time on walking us back to the hotel, although I’m sure the streets are more than safe. If it means spending more time with him, who am I to object?

  Three steps into our trip, his hand snakes down to take hold of mine, interlacing his fingers through my own. I feel myself blushing again and shy away from locking eyes with him. He smirks yet again and I feel his hand lightly squeeze before his talented thumb goes to work on the heel of my hand, massaging my flesh.

  My stomach flips again. This time it doesn’t stop. We don’t speak the rest of the walk. Well, not in words at least. Court and Nina wish him a good night as soon as we reach the protective awning of the hotel, disappearing inside, no doubt to gossip about my uncharacteristic public display of affection with a perfect stranger.

  What do they know? Aren’t they the ones telling me time after time to put myself out there? To not be so picky or hard on guys?

  “So…” I say.

  He steps closer. I can feel his warm breath on me. Suddenly, I’m on fire. I feel the sweat break out in my palms, behind my knees, behind my neck.

  “I guess this is good night.” His voice is husky. “I’d like to see you again. Is that okay?”

  Does he even need to ask? “Sure. I’m only here for a few days though. When?”

  I see him lick his lower lip. “Tomorrow afternoon? I can show you some of the older parts of town. The ones not on the beaten path.”

  I would say yes if he told me he simply wanted to show me the local garbage route, right now.

  “It’s a plan. Send me a text.” I offer.