by Dakota Gray
Did I mention I'm trying to fill up my every waking moment with activities? “I am. Five in the class. I don't expect more. Too many men aren't into gyrating the air in a room with other men, but these guy's wives ain't giving it up anymore. They're desperate. Tarek threatened to fire me if I gave them pussy eating tips.”
“You can always make a YouTube vid. How many do you have now?”
I want him to shut up and stop laying out how depressing my life is. I know. I'm living it. After my power naps—can't call it sleep—I get up and hope today is the day I stop feeling sick to the pit of my stomach. When that doesn't happen, I scan through every moment with Robyn and hope this time, I'll find a real one that isn't marred by the truth.
The only one that can stand testing is when it was just me and her and no ghost as we kissed in the club. Her fingers were brushing along my cheek, and she looked soft and happy and flushed.
Because I'm sick and I can't let go, I play that moment like a loop in my mind.
I sit up only to put my face in my hands. “Just tell me if she's okay.”
“She wasn't okay when she met you. Why do you think that'll change?”
Because she isn't hurting herself with me anymore. “Fuck if I know. I'm tired.”
“You look like shit ran over twice. Go to sleep. I'll wake you up before I go so you can hit the gym.”
I fall back on the couch, my feet back on the white leather. I know that pisses him off, but he doesn't say anything. I am lower than low. When it comes to his own personal space, Duke is like an anal retentive blowhard who had a baby with someone who has an OCD.
“Nate?”
“Yeah?”
“She's okay. I guess. Back to normal.”
Normal. That stings, but she's okay. I don't say anything, but finally I get some sleep.
When I wake up it's well into the evening. Duke has kindly put a Post-It on my forehead.
Texted Tarek since you refused to wake up. You should call him before he puts a hit out on you. He will have to run your class if you don't wake up in time. I will buy you a beer for that.
I can't even find the humor in my friend trying to teach a group of men an erotic hip roll. I crumble the Post-It and toss it to the floor. Duke will twitch and that'll make me happy later. I check the time on my phone, ignoring the missed notifications. Tarek will be getting ready to get off work. If I leave now I can catch him before he's home. I heave myself up from the white couch and go to the gym.
I find my friend in the back room where they store everything that needs to be wiped down. He doesn't have to say a word. The way he's scrubbing mats like he can punch a hole through them tells me his mood.
“I'm sorry,” I say, not bothering with half-assed excuses.
“I expect Duke to flake out on me. He's barely aware other people exist outside of his needs. But you, Mr. Morals I Stand By...Yeah, you only really have three, but you've never wavered from them. You give your word and you keep it. You don't fuck women with a low self-esteem or serious issues. You—”
“Try not to kill my friends when they rant,” I add that new rule because my temper is making my ears hot.
“Your former lover died. That sucks. I get it. And you couldn't even remember her name. Guilt Trip City has your name written all over it. You've got a charter tour named after you.”
I do my best to keep the anger out of my tone. “Your point?”
“You fucked up, but that doesn't mean you stop everything else. You're not a total waste of space. I wouldn't be your friend if you were. Help me with these mats since I had to hip thrust for an hour. And if you promise to buy me a shitload of beer, I'll help you with Robyn. I liked her. She deserves better than you, but I think you're the one for her.”
“What?” Yeah. I'm back in Disneyland with my heart fluttering and there's fucking butterflies living in my damn chest.
“You didn't know anything. She knew everything and still slept with you. You're...I don't know. She wants you despite common sense.”
“I'm warm all over at your compliments.” And, yeah. A part of me is. Duke adjusts to any situation. Good or bad. Mostly morally questionable. Tarek manages to avoid questionable situations altogether.
“Look me in the eye,” he says. “Tell me you didn't know how Loraine felt about you. Tell me you didn't suspect Robyn's story wasn't against your precious morals.”
I snatch up a mat, a cleaning cloth and a bottle of solution. I do that instead of answering. There are at least two hundred mats to go through. The wipe-down has to be thorough to avoid things like ringworm or a staph infection.
But the questions have been asked and I can't help but roll them over in my mind.
Loraine stood out, and that's why she caught my eye. Now I know it's because she faced death and survived. How could that not put a cocky tilt to your smile?
Much like it was with Robyn, Loraine's draw had nothing to do with my ego or my need to fix. I simply wanted to enjoy the woman as she was. At twenty-five, she was a virgin. The more I learned the more intrigued I became.
In hindsight, was I more giving? Did I act like I loved her or could? Was I unclear about the kind of relationship Loraine and I would have? Everything in me wants to say yes. I wish I can list out all the ways I acted differently with Loraine. Of course she'd fall for me. I fell for her a little. I can swim in guilt, and maybe even self-loathing at how I strung her along. There'd be a nice neat bow to wrap on what we were. She'd died, and her last words were all about me. Damning me.
There's...nothing and that makes it worse. We had better than average sex. We had maybe average conversations. Fuck, she never once told me she had cancer—an intimate secret she felt she couldn't share. That was our relationship.
And now I can never ask her what she saw in me that felt above average. Why she decided to give me her virginity. I could have gone six months being placated with the scent of her pussy before my attention wandered. Had she known that? Yes. I don't beat around the bush. There's no reason to.
The truth is, I've never ached until my jaw clenched before Robyn. I've never wanted a woman in my bed so I could hold her down just to talk.
With hindsight, do I wish I could have given Loraine more? Fuck, yeah. Her life had been cut short. She'd been served more bitter than sweet. I would have rather been a memory that made her smile than snarl. She deserved that, and I'll carry that knowledge for the rest of my life.
“The expression on your face means I'm right.” Tarek smiles. “As usual.”
Smug bastard. “You get into relationships, you love them, and then you sabotage the shit of it. Now, I may be a bastard, but I don't do that. I'm upfront about the kind of asshole I am.”
After that, to my satisfaction, we work quietly. My hands smell like diluted bleach and Windex once we are done.
“Drinks?” I offer.
“Need to clear your head?”
I don't want to be alone with my thoughts. I'll break and go to Robyn. No matter how much regret and guilt I feel in the part I played, Loraine had been Robyn's friend. How many times did I say, in so many ways, her friend was forgotten already, nameless? Not by some random one-night stand, but her first. That also plays in a loop in my mind.
Clear my head? I wish. “Yeah,” I lie anyway.
~CHAPTER FIFTEEN~
Four weeks and one day since I've last seen Robyn, and Duke finally breaks—either from abject pity or boredom. He drags me to a mixer where the smartest and brightest legal minds of the state can rub elbows and brag about their cases. The booze might also be the reason, and it's flowing.
I'm on my third scotch. If not for the lavish meal, I'd start to feel like someone should prop me in a corner to nap. I smile at yet another attorney who has come to give Duke a verbal blow job.
“The Huntington case,” the man says with reverence.
Duke sprawls back in his chair and spreads his hands. It's both an aw shucks gesture and completely cocky. “I had a solid case. The evidence
was circumstantial at best.”
“The way you cross-examined the witness, man, I wanted to fuck you.”
That's been my night. Grown men with boy crushes on my friend. This is why I'm on drink three. And this is why Duke dragged me along. He wanted me to get front row seats to the epic douchery behind the scenes. Maybe I'll stop looking up application tips for Harvard.
I scan the room, my shoulders up and taut. I might have agreed to go in hopes that smartest and brightest included Robyn. Duke didn't take any of his paralegals, but hope is a merciless bitch.
I drain my glass and loosen my tie to drop it on the table. I elbow Duke. “I'm getting another. You?”
Absently, he shakes his head as the balding attorney starts up a story about how he lost his last case. They've already cleaned up all the utensils so I'm safe from gouging out my eyes before I rise.
The makeshift bar is stacked with attorneys. Takes three minutes before I shuffle to the front. I make eye contact with the female bartender and smile. She gravitates toward me, returning the smile. There's not a single stirring of interest. I just want a drink.
The hairs on my neck prickle. A familiar—no, a missed sensation. Instinctively, I inhale to get my fill. I swing my gaze to the left, because I know that scent.
“Can I have a martini? Two olives.”
“Robyn.” Her name leaves my mouth before I can stop it. Maybe she hasn't seen me. There are about twenty people along the bar, elbowing each other for space. I haven't cut my hair, and I'm wearing a tux for the event. I look like a decent human being.
“Nate,” she murmurs but keeps her gaze on the bartender. “Where's Duke? I can only assume he's the culprit. That man is a goddamn shark.”
The bite of anger in her voice is understandable, but what does Duke have to do with it? “What do you mean?”
She faces me and her jaw is jutting out. “He called my boss. Gave him a personal invite to this event. Said he wanted to meet.” She jerks her finger toward Duke's table. The bald guy is still there making Duke's ears bleed. “My boss. This is my day off, but I had to come for business.”
Shit. My friend hadn't listened. More proof he's an evil bastard who plans ahead, and now he's put Robyn in the middle of it.
“I'm sorry. I didn't know he'd do this. I told him to leave you alone no matter how...” I can't finish that sentence. It's not her problem I'm unraveling without her. Still, I reach up to touch her and ball my hand at the last second. “I'm sorry about everything, Robyn.”
She huffs and faces the bartender again. The woman drops her drink on the hardwood. “A scotch on the rocks, please.”
I pay for both drinks.
“You look like shit,” she says.
She's decked out in a black strapless dress. Silk. The single strand of diamonds along her neck is a nice touch. Her hair is a waterfall of curls. “You're beautiful.”
Robyn eats an olive at that, glances around, and elbows her way out of the crowd. I force myself to lean on the bar. Duke's intentions may have been good, but Robyn wants nothing to do with me. I'm a shitty reminder she's lost a friend.
The bartender hands me my drink. I knock back half before making my way out of the fray. I glance at the table and my feet freeze. Robyn is sitting next to Duke. Her boss is still running his mouth, and he's settled into a chair.
Robyn has occupied my seat. She's playing with the bow tie I left behind. That doesn't mean anything, I tell hope. The bitch. Robyn's there to take mental note of the promises Duke likely makes to her boss.
Collecting myself, I make my way over. She doesn't turn to me when I sit beside her but she doesn't stop wrapping my bow tie around her fingers. My stomach is tight. I'm transfixed by her hands. Delicate, brown and I know every digit is strong. I know what it feels like to have them brushing my mouth, my cock.
Jesus. I pinch the bridge of my nose. This is hell. When the night is over I'm going to squeeze Duke's neck until his eyeballs pop out. Until then, I listen to them drone on about some big case working its way up to the US Supreme Court.
She leans to the side and whispers, “Stop staring at me.”
“Can't. I won't touch you, but I have to look.”
“Stop it.” She bows her head and draws the tie to her lap. She shakes her head, raises her voice. “Excuse me, Steve. I need some air.”
Her boss blinks. “Sure, sure. I'll text you if I need anything.”
She looks at me and notches her head to the left. I don't need any more social cues to follow. Duke slides his gaze to mine and mouths, you're welcome.
I give her departure about a two minute buffer and then I trace her path out to the balcony. She's braced her hands along the railing. There's a bite of cold in the air. I lean against the wall so there's space. I won't be tempted to cup her face.
“Did you mean it when you apologized to me? Or was it just something you think I wanted to hear? You do that, you know. I can't be sure if your remorse is sincere, or if I just need it to be.”
“Loraine deserved better.”
Her shoulders go up. “You remember her name. Still.” Her voice breaks. “Why couldn't you have done that when she was alive? Something that small.”
Shame fills my gut and I have to swallow it down. “Because despite my parents raising me to be a better man, I'm a shit human being. And I liked her. I enjoyed spending time with her.”
“Then what went wrong?”
I'm quiet long enough she faces me. Anger has tightened her mouth. “Tell me, Nate. What could she have possibly done to make you fuck her and drop her?”
I frown. “I didn't. She dumped me.”
“But you would have.”
“I wasn't what she needed. I was never going to be. Staying with her would have been unfair if I couldn't love her back.”
It's a fair answer, a truthful one, and we both know it. Still she gives me her back again. She leans forward on the railing on her elbows. “I'm sorry I just didn't tell you. That wasn't right. I knew it, but I was pissed at you, and I had myself convinced it didn't matter. We were just fucking.”
“I know.”
“She died, and you got to live. You could barely remember her, and your name was...” She stops and shakes her head. “I don't know what happened. I got my revenge. Then you hunted me down. You were...just sitting there in the coffee shop. My coffee shop, and I couldn't think past wanting you.” She laughs low and it's not a happy sound.
Before I could only assume she hadn't planned to fuck me. “And then it turned into self-loathing,” I whisper.
“A little bit. I fell for your whole devil-may-care appeal.” She turns her head and smiles at me. “You're good at that.”
I glance up so the smile doesn't pull me in and make me cross a line we've put between us. “And the more you slapped me down, the more I wanted you. You're a first, Robyn. You're the first woman I've wanted to be with in a long time. And now I'm not sure if we can. How can you?”
Why would she? Once the grief passes she'll go back to normal.
“You're not pissed at me?”
I meet her eye, surprised by the question. “Why would I be?”
“I used you.”
“You were hurt, and you told me that's what you wanted to do to me. I was dumb enough to ignore the warning.” I shake my head. “I didn't care. I wanted you too much.”
“Don't...” She bows her head and a sigh shudders out. “Don't give me a pass.”
“This once, it's deserved.”
She faces me and folds her arms over her stomach. I want to tell her how much I've missed her then kiss her, touch her. The thought of her skin against mine makes me ache. The realization that I'd never see her smile, the one that crinkles her eyes, feels like a knife between my ribs.
Maybe she can read that on my face because she closes the distance. She doesn't hesitate to cup my cheek. It's fucking unfair she's the one I fall in love with. Yes. Love. There shouldn't be any doubt of that by now, but she is my karma. The kick
to the face I should have gotten a long time ago.
I close my eyes and turn my mouth into her palm. Her Robyn scent works through me, and for the first time in a month everything feels right. I bring my hand up to hers. She gasps and leans into me.
She whispers, “I told myself I wouldn't touch you again.”
“Stop listening to common sense.”
She laughs. “Nate.”
Our eyes meet for a long second. In the next her mouth is on mine. I don't care we shouldn't. This time our mouths mating feels real. There's no ghosts. She wants to kiss me because it's me. I grip her waist and pull her up. Her hands slide around my shoulders.
I fall into her. My tongue and teeth tease her mouth and she moans for me. She holds me tighter. It's going to feel like a small death when we break apart but until then I give us both what we need—something hot, sweet and wet. I don't know how long we kiss but it's not long enough.
She pulls away first, not meeting my eyes. I drag her down my torso until she's back on her feet. She wipes at the lipstick on my mouth. I fix hers too—taking any excuse to keep touching her.
Finally, we both look presentable.
“I have to get back,” she says.
We don't feel finished, but she's already pulling away.
I can't force her to stay. I can't use the three words that want to spill out of my mouth. I never want her to touch me, fuck me, let me eat her, and all the while feel guilt. That's going to take time. If ever.
“Robyn, if you can...” The statement is selfish. I know the moment the words leave my mouth. She owes me jack shit. “Goodbye.”
“See,” she says, sounding breathless. “You're being a person. I like that.” She presses her fingers to my lips and I linger for as long as she lets me.
Then she's gone again. I close my eyes and pray it's not forever.
Robyn
Samantha rips the cover back an inch and shoves a wine bottle into my hand. “This has got to stop. It's one thing to be sad over a break up. Another to be pathetic.”
She's already taken out the cork. I sit up enough to swig straight from the bottle. “I'm not pathetic. I'm sleepy.”
