“I’d like that as well, Julius.”
I haven’t kissed another woman since college, and right now, I want nothing more than to press my lips against Autumn’s. I lick my lips while I psyche myself up for what I’m about to do. My body leans closer, and my eyes never leave hers.
“Autumn,” I say her name softly. A wave of excitement, longing, and desire passes over me. The tension between us is thick. Her tongue darts out, wetting her lips, and her chest heaves as she inhales. “I’m sorry for being a complete ass when we first met. Do you think you’ll ever forgive me?”
“Uh-huh,” she says as she nods slowly.
My mouth twitches in anticipation. I’m about to kiss the woman who has muddled my thoughts since the moment I met her. She’s haunted my dreams, kept me awake at night and showed me what it feels like to lust after someone after the heartache I’ve felt.
My hand gently cups her cheek. Autumn closes her eyes and tilts her head into my palm, and pushes her lips against my skin. Electricity zings through my body, and the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stand at attention.
“I can’t wait,” she says, launching herself into my arms and pressing her lips to mine. I stumble back a step or two and wrap my arms around her waist. Autumn knows what she wants, and when she opens her mouth, I give her any and everything I can in this moment. I walk us to the railing, needing it for support. One hand moves to her hair while the other pulls her tighter against me. Her lips and mouth are demanding, greedy, and I return her passion with reckless abandon. Why did I wait so long to talk to her? To apologize to her?
I blaze a trail of languishing kisses across her jaw and down her neck. She pulls at my shirt, yanking it from my pants. My mouth drops open when her hands caress my heated flesh, and her fingers dig into my skin. I step back and reach for the back of my collar, the intent of taking my shirt off when I realize where we are.
“We have to stop,” I tell her reluctantly. “But please don’t think I don’t want to do any of this with you because I do.” I glance down at my pants to prove my point.
“I got carried away.”
“Sweetie, you can get carried away anytime you want.” I cup her cheek again and run my thumb over her cheekbone. “Believe me, I want . . .” I let my words linger in the air before I kiss her again. This time, it’s soft yet filled with passion. She tastes like heaven. When we part, I kiss her nose and then take her hand in mine.
“Where are we going?”
“Dinner.”
“It’s not time.”
I laugh. “It will be by the time we get back into town and fight traffic.”
Seventeen
Autumn
Weeks ago, if someone asked me what I thought of Julius Cunningham, I would’ve told them he is nothing but a bully with a bad attitude and a chip on his shoulder. If someone asked me last week after I saw him with his daughter, my answer would be something like he’s softening up or he’s not so rough around the edges like I had thought. Ask me now, and I’d fumble for words because I’m drunk. Drunk off his lips and the way he cupped my cheek before he kissed me. Smitten by his kindness and how he knew I needed to see the city from this vantage point, and that he made sure we had the privacy to do it alone. I look over at him now, driving my car, and find it hard to believe he hasn’t been in that seat for longer than a few hours. He fits perfectly. It’s like we’re on a date for the millionth time and not some paid-for excursion. Everything feels natural and not forced like I expected it to be.
I glance over my shoulder and imagine his children in the back and wonder if his son will like me or if his parents’ divorce is proving to be too much for him. I’ve never dated a man with children before and am unsure how children become incorporated into a relationship. I suppose I’m ahead of myself, thinking there will be a relationship between Julius and me, or even the children and me, but the thoughts are there, and I can’t stop them. Nor do I want to. He’s a single father who I know puts his family first, which I respect and admire wholeheartedly.
A warm hand squeezes my thigh, bringing my attention back to the man sitting next to me. He drives with one hand on the wheel and the other now intertwined with mine. How did we go from barely speaking a cordial word to each other to this?
“What are you thinking?” he asks, almost as if he can read my mind.
I lean into the headrest and give him a soft smile. “Just wondering how we got here.”
Julius chuckles lightly, winks, and turns his attention to the road. “I’ve been asking myself for weeks why I was such a dick to you.”
“Did you ever come up with a good answer?”
He laughs again. “Nope, other than we met at a bad time. I think if it had been any other day, things would have been different. I’ve been attracted to you from the beginning, and I think I let all those thoughts I had play with what was really going on.”
“Which was?”
Julius kisses the back of my hand. “I have spent my entire adult life with Elena, and unlike her, I never looked at another person. Then you walk out onto the balcony, and bam, it’s like a ton of bricks are dropped on my head because there’s this gorgeous woman standing a few feet from me, who is smiling at me—and I think ‘wow, I’m an epic shit because I’m married.’” Julius pulls up to a red light and looks over at me.
“Except, I’m not. My wife, or soon-to-be-ex, has moved on and done so very publicly, and nothing is stopping me from doing the same. Once I realized this, you were all I thought about, but I still had a hard time reconciling this attraction. Once I started my ‘I hate Autumn campaign,’ it was hard to stop because deep down, I didn’t want to like you.”
“And now?” I think I already know the answer, but still want a little reassurance.
“And now I’d like to take you on a date or two or ten,” he says with a shrug. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, I’d like to explore where this could lead.”
“I’d like too as well.”
My answer pleases Julius because he leans over and kisses me, much to the disgruntled driver behind us pressing down on the horn longer than necessary.
“I have a few choice words for whoever is behind us.” Julius drives forward while shaking his head and muttering a few profanities. After a bit of silence, he says, “Have you ever dated someone with kids?”
I shake my head. “I haven’t, but I also haven’t dated a whole heck of a lot. Besides, I think there’s a slight age gap between us.”
Julius’s mouth drops open, and he looks at me wide-eyed before busting into a fit of laughter. “Are you calling me old?”
“Not at all, but I wonder if you know how old I am.”
He winks and chuckles. “I’m going to come clean here. I’ve spent some time looking you up online, so yes, I know how old you are, plus you went to school with Peyton, so that makes you a year or so younger than her. I guess the true question is, do you know how old I am?”
“I do.” Honestly, I’ve never considered age to be a determining factor when it comes to dating. I’ve always been the type of person to encourage my friends to date whomever, as long as they’re happy.
“And that doesn’t scare you?”
“Not at all,” I tell him.
Julius smiles, and it’s heart-stopping. He’s devilishly handsome with his blue eyes, dark hair, and a wicked smile. I’m definitely having a pinch-me moment with him right now. He pulls up to another car and then reverses into a parking spot. “That’s it. I’m keeping you,” I say after he puts the car into park and shuts the engine off.
“Why’s that?”
“You can parallel park. That’s keeper material.”
Julius leans over the console and cups my cheek, which is turning into my favorite affection. I’m starting to love that he wants to look into my eyes and doesn’t give me a chance to shy away from him.
“You’re beautiful,” he says. “Right now, I feel fortunate to be with you, especially after I treated you like c
omplete shit. I really don’t deserve any attention from you, but I’m thankful you’re willing to look past my epic assholeness.” He leans in and kisses me before I can say anything in response. “Come on, let’s go eat.”
Julius is out of the car and at my door within seconds. He holds my hand while we jaywalk across the street, dodging oncoming traffic and maneuvering our way toward a restaurant.
“You’re taking me to a pizza parlor?” The question comes out of my mouth ruder than how it sounded in my head. “I’m sorry,” I say as I tug his hand to get him to stop before we go inside. “That came out wrong.”
“It’s fine,” he tells me. “This is my favorite place, especially when I have the kids, which is normally all the time. I just thought . . .” Julius pauses, his face scrunches up in thought, and then says, “We can go someplace else. You’re right. This shouldn’t be our first dinner date.”
He starts to walk away, but I hold my ground. “No, this is perfect, and it’s the place you wanted to bring me. I was caught off guard, is all. Do they have a salad bar?”
He nods. “One of the best around. They also have a fire truck.”
“I’m sorry, what?” I ask, trying to hold back my laughter.
Julius shrugs and opens the door for me. He follows behind me until we get to the host stand and tells the young man we need a table near the fire truck.
“Is this a real—” my words are cut off by the sight of a full-sized fire truck parked in the middle of the room. “Wow, can’t say I’ve seen one up close before.”
“You can climb on it, if you want.”
Oddly, I do want to. “Fascinating.”
The host shows us to our seat, which is two tables away from the truck. It’s nice, but not as intimate as I hoped. But then again, it’s pizza. As soon as I look at the menu, a waiter sets two glasses of water down and asks what we’d like to drink. I’m taken back by Julius when he stays with water. I do the same. Our waiter tells us to help ourselves to the salad bar, which I happily do.
I’m digging into my leafy concoction when Julius asks if I like arcade games. With my hand over my mouth, I nod and try to swallow quickly so that I can talk to him.
“I’m a beast at air hockey.”
“I’m the champ,” he says as he flexes.
“Is that a challenge, Mr. Cunningham?”
“It is, Weather Girl.” Normally, this irritates me, but the nickname has grown on me. But only if it’s Julius saying it.
“I’ll take this challenge, but after we eat because I’m starving,” I say as the waiter sets our pizza down. I reach for the serving utensil, pull a slice of pizza up, and put it onto one of the plates. I hand this to Julius, who looks at me in surprise. “What? Do you want another slice?”
“No.” He shakes his head slowly. “I didn’t expect you to plate my food for me.”
“Why not?”
Julius shrugs and says nothing, making me assume his ex didn’t do things like this. My mother always plates our food. It’s her thing. I suppose I learned it from her.
We eat mostly in silence, and every now again, I find myself staring off into space or losing my thoughts while watching kids climb on and off the fire truck. Julius keeps his head down, and I wonder if it’s because he’s afraid someone will recognize him or if he’s deep in thought. Under the table, we play footsie, and every so often, we hold hands across the table.
When we’ve finished off the pie, more so, when Julius has finished it, he asks me to follow him. Once again, he takes my hand, and I fall in line behind him. He walks us toward another room, one filled with young adults and kids. There are very few people our age here.
“Oh good, the table is free.”
With a slight roll of my eyes, I let go of his hand and head to the end of the table. I have to inspect my mallet and make sure there aren’t any obstructions on the bottom. The table comes to life, and the puck starts moving slowly.
“You should start,” he says.
“Nah, I think I’ll be okay.” I’m confident in my game and push the red puck toward Julius. He eyes me, maybe with caution or trying to figure out if I’m bluffing.
We start, and the clanking of the puck grows incessantly. Neither of us has scored, but it isn’t for lack of trying. Every angle I hit, he blocks, and when he tries to speed the game up, I slow him down. Then he tries to do the same, and I reverse things on him and return my shots as hard as I can and as rapidly as possible. When the puck finally slips between his mallet and the goal, my hands go up.
“You owe me a beer.” It’s been my automatic response since college.
“You’re on, but I was hoping we could play for something else.” Julius winks, and my insides turn to mush.
“Keep it PG, Mr. Cunningham. There are children here.”
He laughs and shakes his head. I drop the puck and send it toward him. He blocks me, and just as I send it back, someone yells his name, causing him to turn away.
“Score!” the machine says, and the mock cheering starts.
“That doesn’t count.”
“It does. Besides, you can’t take a goal away.”
“But—”
“No buts,” I say. “You must focus on the game.” I point to the table, and he groans.
“You sound like Peyton. She’s always telling me to focus on this or that. I haven’t played very well lately.”
“Maybe you need a good luck charm.”
Julius scoffs. “Maybe you should come to the game this weekend.”
I return his guffaw. “I distinctly remember someone telling me I was bad luck.”
Julius picks up the puck and comes toward me. “I had to blame you for something. The entire game, I watched men come up to you and flirt. I hated it. It wasn’t your fault I lost the coin toss that day.” Julius leans in to kiss me, and I shy away. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I shake my head slightly. “I just . . .” I just what? I don’t even know what I want to say. Camden never believed in PDA. Everything had to be closed door. At first, I hated it and thought he was embarrassed to be seen with me, but after a while, I became accustomed. Julius is confused and rightly so, which isn’t my intent. I lean in and press my lips to his, but he’s not entirely receptive.
“Don’t want people to know you’re on a date?”
“It’s not that. My last boyfriend wasn’t affectionate in public.”
“Well, we’ll have to change that.”
I can only bring myself to say, “Okay.”
Julius hands the flat puck to me and tells me I’m about to go down, to which I snort.
I’m up four to zero when he finally scores. “I haven’t had to work this hard before.”
“You hate losing. Don’t you?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“A little.” I hold my thumb and index finger close together. “But I get it. It’s your nature. You want to be successful at everything you do. I just happen to be the air hockey champion of Northwestern.”
Julius sends the puck flying, and I block his attempt at scoring. He throws his hands up, and I laugh. I think he thought he’d catch me off guard, but I’m onto his wily ways.
When the score reaches seven and the machine shuts off, I do a little dance to celebrate. Julius pulls me into his arms and kisses me. I let him, enjoying every minute.
“Rematch?” he asks.
“Anytime.”
“Excuse me, but are you, Julius Cunningham?” a little boy standing near us asks. I look at Julius and raise my eyebrow.
“I am,” he says as he crouches down to this little guy's height. “What’s your name?”
“Robert, but my friends call me Bobby.”
Julius’s large hand dwarfs this little guy's hand as they shake. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Can I have your autograph?” Bobby holds out a napkin and pen for Julius.
“Of course. Are your mom and dad here?”
Bobby nods, turns, and points. A y
oung couple wave, and the father starts walking toward us.
“Sorry about this,” he says when he reaches us.
“It’s not a problem at all. Do you have a phone?” Julius asks the dad. He fishes it out of his pocket while Julius and Bobby pose for a series of photos. My favorite being when Julius sets Bobby on his shoulder.
“That was amazing,” I tell him after Bobby and his dad have left us. “You were so good with him.”
“The little kids, I don’t mind. Even the teens are good. But you get those older people, who act as if I owe them something because they bought my jersey or came to a game—they bother me. Oftentimes, they’re rude and demanding or think they can cut in front of a little guy like Bobby. Give me hundreds of kids like him, and I’ll sign and take pictures all damn day.”
Julius and I are about to leave when another child comes up to us. From there, a line starts. I stand by, taking pictures when asked and even posing for a few when someone recognizes me.
What catches me off-guard is when a young lady asks Julius if I’m his girlfriend. I didn’t say anything because I’ve never commented on my personal life before, but he had plenty to say. “Let’s just say, I want her to be my person.”
Eighteen
Julius
When something you’ve said without thinking of the consequences spreads like rapid-fire, the only thing you can do is run with it. I wasn’t joking when I said I wanted Autumn to be my person. I do. I love spending time with her, I’m attracted to her, and I can’t stop thinking about her. Should I have said it on our first date?
No.
Should I have said it to her in private? Yes.
Should I have waited, I don’t know another hour? Day? Week? Month?
Yes. Yes. Yes.
Do I regret it?
No.
I blurted the statement out without thinking. Call it the heat of the moment or fitting for the situation. I do want Autumn to be my person, but I shouldn’t have said what I did to the people I did because within seconds, my words, in my voice, were all over social media. Unbeknownst to Autumn and me, someone recorded the impromptu autograph session at the pizza parlor and caught the entire exchange. I knew as soon as we got back into her car and my phone lit up, I had made a mistake.
Fourth Down: A Beaumont Series Next Generation Spin-off Page 12
