Ex-Daredevil

by Zoe Lee

  “Why not,” he said, then pulled on the pair I handed him and hummed. “They’re soft.”

  While I put together sandwiches, I thought back over the last week, which had been a bit surreal, with an awful lot of emotions. There had been my intense embarrassment in the office and determination to make the date work. When it hadn’t felt right, I’d been seized by boldness, changing the course of the date midway through and adapting. There had been the simple sweetness of watching TV together and sleeping curled up next to him. It wasn’t new, but I’d felt so much euphoria while we fucked around, not that I’d ever get sick of it.

  “You okay? You’re glaring at that ham,” Gavin joked, pulling me out of my thoughts.

  “Sorry, just lost in my thoughts for a second,” I said.

  We went back to the couch to eat, but neither of us said anything. When I noticed Gavin glancing out the window for the third time, suddenly, despite my good thoughts a few minutes ago, I was worried. I tried to look back at our hours together from his perspective, and remembered he’d said you got me to spend an entire morning doing nothing at all. Was he… bored right now? Trying to figure out how to leave without being rude?

  While I wasn’t about to suggest something wild just to try to keep his interest, I could admit that not everyone wanted to spend their free time watching TV. I cast my mind around for something else to do that we might both like, and then had an idea.

  “After we eat, do you want to go play ultimate frisbee?” I asked, trying to sound normal and not like I was desperate to hold his attention. “Camdon’s sister is in a league and they play every other Saturday. She’s like you, friends with everybody, so she always invites me.”

  “Okay,” he said, with a flash of what seemed like shyness, “if you want to go too.”

  “I wouldn’t mind,” I answered quietly, realizing that I really wouldn’t.

  We both smiled, and then his got a thousand times brighter before he said, “By the way, you know I’m never going to let you forget that you thought I was divorcing rock god Barley Finn… and came with my soon-to-be-ex to see his lawyer.”

  “My momentary jealousy overrode my smarts,” I muttered.

  “You deserve a little payback for that, even if it’s cute that you were jealous and stuck your foot in your mouth. So I’m going to own you at ultimate,” he declared gleefully.

  I cocked an eyebrow. “I’d like to see you try.”

  Chapter 15

  Eliott

  The week at work was very busy, and by Thursday I had to admit it was in part because I wasn’t one hundred percent focused on it the way I’d always been. Gavin was coming in at ten-thirty to go through all of the files he’d put together for Barley’s divorce. So I was eager to get to work on that, but I was also really looking forward to seeing him again.

  We’d been texting since we went our separate ways after the ultimate frisbee game, where I’d shocked the hell out of him by being good at it and securing my team the win.

  When the receptionist called to say he was here, I thanked her and then wiped my sweaty palms down my pants and took a deep breath. We had work to do, and since my personal and professional lives had never bled into each other before, I was nervous. I needed to keep on task while he was here, no matter that I couldn’t wait to see him again.

  “Mr. Sycamore, hi,” I said as I walked into reception, keeping my eyes on his face and holding my hand out for him to shake, which was the standard expected greeting.

  With a suppressed smirk, he shook my hand. “Mr. Navarre, great to see you again.” He turned to the receptionist, the smirk morphing into his cheerful grin. “See you around, Sasha. Thanks for the tip about the pierogi place, I’m dying to try it out tonight.”

  “Bye, Gavin!” she answered happily.

  “Handshake,” he said with a snicker as I led him through.

  The junior partners had our offices in a far corner from reception, and it was a little louder and more hectic than the partners’ area because we were all still jockeying for position. I led him to one of the suites, which held mine and two other offices plus a miniature reception area for our shared admin. I nodded at her as we came in, but didn’t stop.

  Gavin, however, went right over to her to introduce herself. “Hi there. I’m Gavin.”

  Looking up through her stylish cat’s eye glasses, she replied, “Hello, sir. I’m Mia.”

  I stuffed my hands in my pockets nervously when he gave her a conspiratorial look and asked in a fake whisper, “I’m here to help Mr. Navarre get started on Mr. Finn’s divorce. How is he? He sure looks the part, but I haven’t met many lawyers before, Mia.”

  She gave him a pitying look and said, “He doesn’t suffer fools or small talk.”

  “You don’t say?” He didn’t seem offended in the least, only delighted by her warning.

  “Mr. Sycamore,” I said firmly, “if you’d join me, then we can get to work.”

  “I’ll get the dirt on him later,” he promised my admin, then joined me, looking around. My office was a small rectangle with a window and not very much personality, which had never occured to me until I saw it through his eyes. “This is… definitely a workspace.”

  I arched an eyebrow as I sat behind my desk, waving at one of the two chairs on the other side of it, a short, square table between them, conscious that the offices had glass windows with blinds, which were always open unless we knew we needed total privacy.

  He fell into a chair and opened his messenger bag, pulling out manila folders in yellow and red and pink. He stacked them on the table, some thin and perfectly flat and others bulging and a little crinkled at the corners as if they were older. “I’m totally ready, Eliott.”

  I was helpless against him, able to look at him the way I’d wanted to from the minute I’d stepped into reception. He was wearing fitted dark gray trousers not that different from mine, but paired with a graphic tee shirt that had some anime characters I didn’t recognize on it. Half his hair was pulled back into a knot, his nose ring in, brightly polished.

  “Now there’s the man I’m getting to know after hours,” he murmured, bracing his elbows on his knees and leaning in, so fashionable and vivacious I could barely breathe.

  “I—” I cleared my throat and woke up my computer, then launched into the list of documents I’d given him to bring, prepared to accept and check them off one by one.

  Although I was sure that Gavin was going to interrupt me any second, he only rolled his eyes once at the beginning and then produced the requested documents from the red folders, laying them down in a precise fan across my desk. On top of each one was a helpful neon pink sticky note with the document’s description and date in black block letters.

  I printed off my checklist, initialed next to every item, and signed at the bottom, then passed it over to him and said, “I’ll need you to initial, sign and date this so we have a record of these documents being provided. I’ll scan and email it to Barley and you later.”

  “Do we need to get Mia in here to notarize it too?” he asked, rolling his eyes.

  “Not this time,” I answered calmly, taking a drink of my cold coffee from first thing this morning. He gave me an unimpressed look and I frowned, then started to go over the next set of items, which he’d emailed earlier in the week since I didn’t need hard copies.

  Once I was doing that, I relaxed because I knew I was an excellent lawyer who kept things as simple and clear as possible, which wasn’t always easy in my job. I’d been looking forward to Gavin’s insolence and teasing, something I’d never had the opportunity to enjoy while working, but he was quick and efficient, and highly organized. He hardly needed to look in his folders or the laptop he’d pulled out after signing the checklist, providing answers and information with very little editorializing. Nothing he said could be construed as gossip, but his evaluation of Barley and Carina’s marriage was helpful.

  “You’re really good at this,” I said after we wrapped up for this tim
e.

  He put his laptop aside and sprawled back into the chair. “Now you sound like I surprised you. Did you honestly think a man like Barley could survive with a bad PA?”

  “I honestly have no idea what a PA for a rock star does,” I replied evenly.

  “What is this… thing you’re doing today?” he demanded, holding his hand out palm toward me and circling it while his nose scrunched up. “Is it because I made friends with Sasha and Mia and you’re jealous because they think you’re no fun? Which isn’t true.”

  Scoffing at that, I still shifted uncomfortably before I admitted, “This is a bit weird for me. My job is very important to me, I think you know that by now. I’m good at it and I like to think I make a painful process as easy as it’s ever going to be. I take it seriously and I’m a consummate professional at all times. But now you’re here, and I like showing off, even though I know it’s silly, but I also want to kiss you badly and make you laugh.”

  He stood up like a shot.

  But I shook my head sharply and warned him, “Don’t come closer, please.”

  His eyes flicked to the fairly soundproof glass between us and Mia, then his posture eased into a sexy slouch and his smirk was back. “Afraid you’ll be tempted to bend me over your desk?”

  When I just gulped and nodded, his eyes widened in astonishment and he licked his lips before going on. “That sounds fantastic, but I care about my job too and since I’m on the clock, I’m not abusing Barley’s trust to have sex with you. We’ll have to wait.”

  Air whistled out between my clenched teeth as arousal streaked through me. “We need to set some boundaries, before this gets out of control,” I said, and it was the first time I’d been less than excited about rules. “We have to keep our hands completely to ourselves or I’m going to snap one of these days. And if… if things go wrong outside of work, then I’ll do my best to minimize how often you have to see me in person or talk on the phone.”

  That made him put his hands on his hips and toss his hair. “I don’t have any plans to let anything go wrong,” he declared. “But I’ll agree to your boundaries, if you agree to try to schedule our meetings right before or after lunch, so we can eat together off the clock sometimes. That way, I can kiss you and tease you and it won’t be violating our work ethics.”

  I was stunned at how the suggestion was both utterly sexy and utterly reasonable, since I hadn’t seen this facet of his personality yet, I stuttered, “A-absolutely. It’s a deal.”

  Then he grinned wickedly and began gathering up his things, bending over a lot more than was strictly necessary. When he was done, I was feeling flushed, and it worsened when he purred, “When can I take you out on your first dangerous, reckless adventure date?”

  “Anytime,” I said without a thought.

  He put on his messenger bag, freed his hair from underneath the strap, and turned his back to the glass so that no one outside my office could see him lick his lips and blow me a kiss. “How about Sunday? I can’t wait longer than that to shake up your whole worldview.”

  “Yeah. Sunday’s good.”

  That gorgeous, sharp gaze slid over me like a caress, and all I could think was touch me, touch me, but he kept to the deal and showed himself out without another word.

  I rubbed my hand over my mouth, trying to hide a silly smile, then got back to work, finding it easier to focus now that we’d come up with rules for this part of our relationship.

  But I wasn’t smiling by Sunday morning, because despite all my persuasive texts, Gavin hadn’t given me a single clue about what he was going to make me do this afternoon.

  I made the mistake of complaining about it in the group chat with my best friends, which Camdon had renamed Don’t Quit It after Asher and Lucas got engaged.

  Asher: Oh no, he’s going to make you eat something with your hands.

  Sam: Wear something with a pattern.

  Sam: Other than argyle or plaid.

  Camdon: Batting cages.

  Sam: Dance Dance Revolution.

  Asher: I’ve got it. He’s going to make you go to brunch.

  While they were successfully distracting me from sweating, that was the final straw.

  Eliott: Fuck you, Asher. Brunch is not a legitimate meal.

  Sam: How are you even gay with an attitude like that?

  Camdon: Everyone loves brunch. You’re a monster.

  Asher: My mom loves brunch. Saying fuck you to me is like saying fuck you to her.

  Camdon: Dude. You can’t say fuck you to Beth Bernthal.

  Eliott: How about you assholes just wish me good luck? I’m not losing this bet.

  Eliott: [Renamed the group Beth is the Best]

  I closed the chat and went out to my porch swing to wait for Gavin.

  My condo was in a pocket of quiet, with a tiny lawn and planters with herbs and pansies hanging off the porch railing. It was early September, the leaves starting to change colors and the weather in the mid-sixties, so different from the scorching day I’d met Gavin two months ago. I could hear traffic, a constant hum at the outer edge of my hearing that was easy to ignore. I loved living in the city, within an hour of everything I ever wanted to do, but I needed to be able to retreat to this quiet place that was all mine.

  A loud engine invaded the quiet and I scowled, looking up from my ebook app.

  My scowl transformed into a look of total horror when I saw that the engine belonged to a motorcycle, which slowed down and then turned into my driveway.

  Before the helmet came off, an echo of the first time I’d seen his face, I knew it was Gavin. I jumped to my feet, the porch swing chains screeching, already shaking my head.

  “No,” I denied.

  Chapter 16

  Eliott

  “Are you forfeiting?” Gavin asked as he strolled onto my porch, helmet under one arm.

  That arrested my denial and panic and I closed my eyes, trying to regain my bearings. “No,” I repeated, opening my eyes and looking at him, my face stiff with tension. Fair was fair, but at the same time… I started, “You couldn’t have started with something—”

  He put a hand on my hip, arresting my whiny protest, and smirked. “I take bets seriously, Eliott; I’m not going to go easy on you.” His eyes gleamed, knowing the innuendo would get a reaction out of me. “I expect you to give it to me as hard as you can.”

  “It doesn’t seem prudent to ride a motorcycle, let alone ride one with a stiff cock.”

  His hand shifted to cup it. “I’ll be the one driving, so you stay as stiff as you want.”

  I took a deep breath and nodded, then clarified, “Only if you have a second helmet.”

  He tugged me along with him using a finger hooked through my belt loop, which couldn’t have been any hotter unless he were naked, and assured me, “I’m not risking that big brain of yours.” When we were standing next to the motorcycle, something black with bright purple accents that looked designed for racing, he said seriously, “Okay, you need a safety lesson about motorcycles before I let you touch it. So I need you to pay attention.”

  “I’m listening,” I said, even though my voice was rougher than usual.

  Smartly, he moved back and explained basic motorcycle safety in a no-nonsense instructor’s voice, similar to his manner during our meeting on Thursday. It was tempting to let the assured tone wash over me and keep me stiff, but I had mastery over my own mind and body, damn it, so I listened carefully to everything that he told me. Not only was it necessary, it also calmed me down because the more I knew, the more prepared I felt. I liked—needed—to be prepared before I embarked on anything new, no matter what.

  When he was done, he got out the other helmet and watched me intently as he put it on my head, adjusted the chin strap length, and buckled it on. “The most important thing,” he said as he swung a leg over and sat, then put up the kickstand, “is not to freak out and squeeze me as hard as you can. You’re strong enough to cut off my air or startle me.”

  �
�I can handle it,” I said in my most confident tone.

  He turned on the engine, then very slowly used his feet to swing the motorcycle around in my driveway, so that we wouldn’t have to back out. “Climb on.”

  I eyed the motorcycle skeptically one more time, then gingerly moved like Gavin had until I was seated behind him. I looked down to the left side and the right side so I could see from this angle the spots where I would put my shoes once we were moving. Beneath me, it didn’t feel like a real seat, but I both admitted to and reminded myself that I actually did trust him or I never would have accepted the bet in the first place. I might have been come drunk at the time, but I never would have agreed if I had had any real doubts about him.

  “Put your arms around me,” he instructed, the words muffled and toneless through the helmet. I did so and was glad that I was taller than he was otherwise I had no idea how I’d hold onto him without having to crane my neck sideways or back so I wouldn’t bang my helmet into his. “Now put your feet up where I showed you, and then we’ll go on a ride.”

  It took me a few seconds to screw up the nerve, but I did it.

  We idled on my driveway and I braced myself as if he was suddenly going to floor it—or maybe it was gunning it when it was a motorcycle and not a car, what did I know.

  But of course he didn’t. The speed limit on my street was twenty-five.

  “You ready?” he shouted after another minute.

  “Why the hell not?” I shouted back.

  And off we went.

  The twenty-five miles an hour might as well have been an astronaut shooting into space in a rocketship. Certain aspects of the ride were fundamentally the same as a car ride, like that we were seated in a motor vehicle with a combustion engine and exhaust and gas and brake levers. But everything else was so new that it didn’t compare.

  He guided us through my neighborhood, which was all the same speed limit and also had stop signs at nearly every intersection, so it let me get used to the startling swoop in my stomach every time we turned. Obvious as it had been, I was glad he’d reminded me not to squeeze him too hard, because that was my instinct, although I got used to it fast. I still made a little noise of dismay every time we switched lanes or went through a yellow light, but I was confident that there was no way for Gavin to hear it over all the damn noise.