The Brooklyn Book Boyfriends

by Kayley Loring

  4

  Aimee

  Roxy has to physically push me the last half a block to Bitters. She made me wear a camisole under the blouse that had shrunk a full size when I put it in the dryer. The one that I was going to donate to Goodwill. I can’t even button it up over my boobs. I might as well be wearing a flashing neon necklace that points down to my cleavage. This is not the way a business consultant dresses when she wants to discuss a professional matter with a client. But Roxy reminded me that technically I’m still unemployed until midnight, which means that Chase isn’t my client yet.

  Bless her devious heart.

  And also damn her.

  She pulls my jacket off of me before opening the door. “Show those girls off and let them breathe,” she says.

  I let out a little laugh before trying to take a deep breath, but everything gets stuck in my chest.

  When we walk in, that Chainsmokers song that Roxy and I love is just ending, and I get that rush that you feel when you hear a favorite song in public, like it’s a sign that you’re meant to be here right now. And then I see him, Chase, and my stomach flips and then drops. He’s at that same seat at the bar where I saw him a month ago. This time, there isn’t a sea of people between us, but just like the last time—he looks over to check who’s walked in and as soon as he sees me, he doesn’t look away.

  Only this time, he’s hunched over. His dark soulful eyes are so sad. Those are the eyes of a man who sits alone in a dive bar on a weekday afternoon, not an impossibly sexy young CEO who currently has a buxom brunette hanging all over him.

  “Get it, girl,” Roxy whispers into my ear as she rubs my back for reassurance and then dances across the room to a booth to join a guy that she knows.

  Now it’s just me standing by the door staring at my former pursuer’s best friend, and Chase staring back at me while the buxom brunette continues to flaunt her buxomness in his face. I don’t know exactly how to read his expression. Is it remorse, relief or resignation? Whatever it is, it’s breaking my heart. His eyes stay fixed on me while I hesitantly walk toward him.

  “Hi there,” I say, lacking all of the confidence and hope that I had in my voice the first time we met.

  “Hi,” he says, with the voice of a man who still has whiskey burning the back of his throat.

  I smile at the woman next to him, waiting for an introduction that doesn’t come. She just looks back and forth from Chase to me, rolls her eyes, and pulls a pen out from her purse. She writes her name and number on a cocktail napkin and leaves it on the bar next to Chase before walking off to join her friends at a booth. Without even looking at it, Chase flips the napkin over and places his drink on top of it.

  He doesn’t smell like cigarettes at all anymore. He smells like hot sex in front of a fire in a log cabin in the mountains—not that I’d know what that actually smells like. He looks like he’s had as anxiety-provoking a weekend as I have, minus the donuts.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Been better. You want a drink?”

  “No. I just came here to … Are you … What happened? You don’t have to tell me. I’m sure you don’t want to …”

  He just looks at me, with a pained expression.

  “Um. Okay, so I’m sure I’m the last person you want to talk to right now, but—”

  “You’re wrong.”

  “What?”

  “You’re wrong about that, Aimee.”

  Just hearing him say my name out loud makes me weak in the knees. It was a terrible idea, coming here. Or maybe the best idea I’ve ever had.

  “Okay, well that’s a good thing to be wrong about, I suppose.”

  He smiles, a tired smile. God, it’s good to see him smile. Even that sad, exhausted smile.

  Stay focused.

  You came here to discuss business, not stare at his mouth.

  I swear, most of the time, the voice in my head sounds like a Disney princess with an MBA. But when I’m around Chase McKay, I find myself thinking things like: I want to grab onto that hair and ride that man like a mechanical bull, or I wonder what he tastes like. Everywhere.

  Good God.

  What if I’ve had the nymphomaniac gene my whole life and it took meeting Chase McKay to activate it?

  Focus.

  Be professional.

  “I’ve been wanting to touch you—I mean—I’ve been trying to get in touch with you about something. Not what you probably think …”

  That sad little smile of his curls into a grin.

  I touch my hand to my neck. My skin is hot. It feels like someone has set fire to my clothes. I would walk directly into an ice-cold shower right now if I could.

  “I don’t have my phone on me,” he explains. As if that isn’t cause for alarm in the twenty-first century.

  “Oh no! Did you lose it?”

  “No.”

  “Oh … okay. Well, I don’t know if you’ve talked to Keaton at all this weekend …”

  He looks down at my hands which are clasped together in front of me like … Professor McGonagall. “I have,” he answers.

  “Okay … is he … um … He’s fine with everything, right?”

  He blinks, slowly. “Sure.”

  “Great! I mean, I’m glad.”

  “He was very disappointed, though.”

  “Oh. Well, I’m sure he’ll get over it though, right?”

  “I can’t speak for him.”

  “I know. I didn’t…I don’t mean to put you in this position. I mean, I certainly didn’t plan to be in this position either.”

  “What position would you like to be in?”

  My eyes widen as I suck in a breath.

  All of the positions.

  I want to be in all of the positions.

  With you.

  I remember this.

  This is what it was like the night we met, before Keaton showed up.

  “Maybe I will have a drink.”

  Chase raises his hand, without looking at the bartender, and the guy comes right over. But I can’t stop staring at Chase’s hand. Those long beautiful fingers that could play me like a piano.

  “What can I get you?” the bartender asks me, raising his chin.

  “Irish whiskey, please. Redbreast. Neat.” I can feel Chase staring at me, but I can’t handle looking at his face right now. “Where is Roxy?” I look around for my friend, and quickly find that she’s in a booth, sitting on a guy’s lap. Well, that was fast. I recognize him, though. She’s been out with him a couple of times. I keep trying to send her telepathic messages to come over and talk to me, tear me away from this man before I say or do something that I really shouldn’t say or do. She won’t look at me. On purpose. I’m getting telepathic messages from her that are telling me to say and do the things that I really want to say and do to him. Or maybe that’s just my hormones yelling at me.

  The bartender slides a glass of Irish whiskey towards me. While he refills Chase’s glass with the same, I reach for my wallet inside my purse.

  Chase’s hand, those beautiful long fingers, touch my forearm and I freeze.

  “I got this,” he says.

  “Thank you,” I whisper. I don’t breathe again until he finally lets go of me. Then I take a sip of this fascinating liquid, close my eyes and savor it, in the way that I should have the first time I tried it.

  Chase slams his empty glass back down on the counter, drags the back of his hand across the bottom of his lower lip and then looks me straight in the eyes. “Why did you come here tonight, Aimee?”

  “I wanted to talk to you about … about …”

  “Keaton?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Did you change your mind about him? Do you want to date him now?”

  “No.” I suppose I should have wavered a moment before answering, but that’s the truth. I don’t.

  I try not to stare at his mouth while he strokes the scruff on his chin with his fingers, contemplating me.

  “So, what do you want to talk a
bout?”

  God, the way he’s looking up at me, with those dark heavy-lidded eyes and his head tilted. One arm is leaning against the bar, the rest of his body is open to me as I stand there next to him clutching my drink and clenching my thighs together.

  I take another sip of whiskey and swallow hard. “I just wanted you to know that I really liked you when we first met and I wanted to get to know you, but I think I felt intimidated by you. That’s why I was talking so much and that’s why I started talking to your friend when he showed up. But it was you. You were the one I was attracted to. I mean, I did like Keaton—he’s very nice and fun—but with you it was … bigger. I understand why you backed off. I probably shouldn’t have given my number to him at all, but … I wasn’t sure if you were really even interested. I don’t want to cause any kind of problem between you guys. That’s the last thing I want to do, but I just had to say it. I just wanted you to know how I felt. How I feel.” I take another sip of whiskey to stop myself from saying anything else.

  I’ll just make a mess of things and wait for Elaine Hoffman to fire me.

  She’ll be fine.

  Her company will be fine.

  SnapLegal will be fine.

  I’ll just move back to Ann Arbor and live with my parents.

  I’m only twenty-seven.

  I’ll bounce back.

  Worth it.

  Right, whiskey?

  Oh shit, what have I done?

  Before I can excuse myself and run to grab Roxy for an emergency meeting in the ladies room, Chase says, “I came here tonight because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

  At least I think that’s what he said. I think he was talking to me, even though he’s staring at his empty glass. I lower myself down a bit, to rest my elbows on the bar top. My ear is now closer to Chase’s mouth. I fix my gaze on my own glass and say, “Go on …”

  He laughs but keeps staring at the glass in his hands.

  “I came here because I wanted to get drunk and try to forget about you. I gave the bartender my phone to keep in his safe, so I wouldn’t be able to call you once I’d started drinking.” He finally looks over at me and puts his hand over his heart. “I love what you said just now.”

  “I’m pretty fond of what you’re saying right now too.”

  I turn my body towards his, leaning forward, exposing my cleavage in a way that I don’t normally do on purpose, but I don’t typically want so badly to give my body to someone the way that I want to give myself to Chase McKay. Chase lowers his eyes, taking my curves in for just one wolfish second, but when he looks back up at me it’s like a switch has been flipped.

  “I can’t say or do all the things I want to say and do to you in here, Aimee. Keaton still likes you, and I’m in here with him all the time. Let’s get out of here. Let’s say and do all the things we want to say and do to each other for one night. Tonight. Just tonight.”

  Those words, tonight, just tonight, echo around my brain and dance seductively all around me.

  “What about Keaton?” I say it so quietly, because I don’t really want to say it.

  “He’s in the Hamptons with someone until tomorrow morning.”

  “Oh. Well, good for him.”

  “This will be a one-night only event for us. We’ll get it out of our systems. After tonight, we never speak of this again.”

  I clamp my lips together and then nod my head.

  We stare at each other, and he can see in my eyes and the way my body relaxes, that my answer is yes. Tonight, just tonight. I don’t know how I can possibly get enough of him in one night, but I will try.

  Our hands slowly reach toward each other, and just when we’re about to touch fingers, Roxy grabs my shoulders and shoves my jacket at me.

  “Hey there, Chase McKay!” she exclaims as she pulls me away from him. “Off to the ladies’ room—we’ll be right back!”

  I look back at Chase apologetically. He’s rubbing his face with his hands, but he’s smiling. If he’s gone when we return from the ladies’ room I will probably murder my roommate, but she’d probably understand.

  As soon as the bathroom door is closed and Roxy has confirmed that no one is in the stall, she whisper-yells, “Okay, you need to take it down a notch, Miss Lady Wood. I could literally see your erect nipples from across the dimly-lit room. I keep expecting you to shoot laser beams from them.”

  “What? It’s cold in here. You’re the one who made me wear this! Wait—seriously?! You’re telling me to take it down a notch? You?”

  “I thought you had more control over your nips. You don’t want him to think you don’t have any respect for his best friend and business partner, right?”

  “No. I mean, you’re right.” Every now and then, Roxy reminds me why she’s a highly-paid executive.

  “Yeah, well.” She turns to the mirror and touches up her lip gloss. “You’ve got Wet Panty Face, my friend.”

  I cover my face. I’m not exactly sure what Wet Panty Face is, but I’m positive that I have it when I’m around Chase. “Shut up.”

  “So, I’m guessing you haven’t told him about the j-o-b situation.”

  “I mean. Nothing’s going to change between now and tomorrow. I’ll tell him in the morning. Before we get to the office. Right?”

  “Right! The only thing you need to tell that guy tonight is ‘oh yeah, harder, more, right there, don’t stop.’”

  “I thought you wanted me to take it down a notch.”

  “I want you to slow things down up front, so he doesn’t think you’re being an idiot. And I want you to be a little more ladylike so he can remember that he was the one coming onto you. You know. Tomorrow, when you’re at the office together.”

  “Okay wait, the fact that you’re encouraging me to do this at all leads me to believe that it’s a terrible idea.”

  “Whaaaaat? Offense! I am a renowned purveyor of common sense!”

  “No. Shit. No. We can’t do this.”

  Roxy grabs my wrist. “This was my bad. I shouldn’t have pulled you away from him. You’re fine. You deserve this.”

  “No. It’s one thing to regret something you didn’t do, but if we both regret what we do then we might not be able to bounce back from that—tomorrow at work—and what about Chase and Keaton and their relationship?”

  “I believe the saying is: it’s better to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission.”

  “I don’t need Keaton’s permission!” I snap.

  “Exactly. I mean, Chase might, but that’s for him to deal with. You need to deal with your attraction to Chase. But don’t listen to me, listen to your nipples. Listen to your panties. Listen to the way Chase looks at you. That boy is fire and your whole life you’ve been rubbing two wet sticks together with other guys, trying to create a spark.” My friend is not just egging me on—for once, she is impassioned. She has tears in her eyes. “What is the point of moving to New York if you aren’t going to take chances and live big in the moment and let every fucking day and night burn to the ground until all that’s left is the beautiful memory of what you loved and what scared you?”

  5

  Chase

  She’s mine.

  I let her go and she came back to me.

  All the feelings that I’ve tried to bury just demolished their shitty casket as soon as I saw Aimee’s face again.

  My dick has been trying to burst out of my jeans ever since I saw her in that deceptively sweet little blouse that’s clinging to her even tighter than I want to cling to her.

  I gave my friend his shot and he missed it. So fuck doing the right thing. I’m not going to overthink anything tonight. Tonight, I do what I want. And I want Aimee. I don’t have a clue how I’ll ever get enough of her in one night, but she will have all of me. One night in heaven will be easier to live with than the month I’ve spent in hell thinking I could never have her.

  I’m about to enter uncharted territory with Keaton, but there’s no one I’d rather be e
ntering, more than Aimee. I mean—entering into uncharted territory with. Never mind.

  I doubt that I’ll tell Keaton about it tomorrow, but I’ll have to eventually, because I don’t want to keep that kind of secret from him. But that’s after tonight. First, we need to have our night to remember. All I want to do is take her to the nearest hotel and get her naked, but I need to make this last all night. I need to take her somewhere no one we know will see us together. I need to get her to a place where we can forget about yesterday and tomorrow and Keaton.

  Denny finally comes over to check on me, eyebrow cocked, grin loaded. “Well now,” he says. “Someone’s night has taken a turn for the better.”

  “Time to settle-up,” I say. No need for explanation.

  “On the house as always,” he insists.

  “Thanks. I meant I can take my phone back now. I don’t have to worry about saying the things that I want to say to her.”

  The fucker shakes his head. “No can do, friend. You said, ‘no matter what.’ I gave you my word.” Yeah, this is why I came to Denny—I can trust him not to tell Keaton about any of this and I can trust him to keep his word to me even when I was being a giant pussy.

  “I will give you another fifty bucks to forget about what I said earlier. Just get me my phone. Come on. I don’t want to have to come back here in the morning.”

  “Can’t do it. Sorry, man.” He’s not enjoying this. Being a man of honor means as much to him as it does to me. Dick.

  I’m way too happy to put up a fight, so I’ll just have to leave Aimee a little earlier tomorrow to swing by and get it. “Fine,” I say. “Am I gonna meet you here or at your place in the morning?”

  “What time are we talking?”

  “I don’t know. Eight or nine?”

  “I’ll be at the gym.”

  “You better be.”