Gentleman Nine

by Penelope Ward

  I told myself I wasn’t going to pry—unless he wanted to offer the information. But a part of me needed to know how the Emily thing came about, what he was thinking—whether he had fucked her. Everything. I needed to know everything.

  Well, maybe I could pry a little.

  My heart sped up as I initiated the conversation. “How was your date?”

  “It wasn’t really a date. It was just a meetup.”

  “So, what happened? I thought she was out of the picture.”

  “You and me both.” He chuckled, then let out a deep sigh before rubbing his eyes. Then, he looked at me. “After you and I came home from taking Milo out the other night, I realized I’d missed a text from her. She messaged me because she saw I was in Boston from my Instagram. I rarely post anything, but I’d posted a shot from Quincy Market. She said she’d been thinking about me for a while and wanted me to know that she ended things with her boyfriend. She asked if we could meet.”

  “So, she broke up with him? The guy she went back to while she was seeing you?”

  “Yup. Apparently, she says it’s for good this time.”

  “What else did she say to you?”

  “She said the feelings she had for me scared her at the time and that her running back to him was like a safety net. She said she didn’t fully trust that I was ready for a relationship because I hadn’t had any serious girlfriends. But she claims she couldn’t stop thinking about me and that she regretted ending things and not taking a chance. She never planned to contact me, because she figured I wouldn’t want to see her. She took my being in Boston as a sign that she should get in touch with me.”

  The jealousy meter was definitely off the charts at this point. I didn’t know what to say. “Wow.”

  “Yeah. I honestly didn’t expect to hear from her ever again.”

  “How do you feel about all of this?”

  He blew out a breath. “I don’t know. The whole thing is sort of complicated. I still have feelings for her and I’m very attracted to her, but at the same time, I’m going back to Chicago, too, you know? Then, there’s the issue of not being able to really forget how she abruptly ended things. That left a bitter taste. I’m trying not to overthink it. I guess I’ll just have to see how things go while I’m here.”

  A small part of me was happy that Channing had a second chance with the one girl he’d truly connected with. It felt like fate, him ending up in Boston and getting to rekindle things with her. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t extremely jealous. I’d probably always be envious of any woman who could be with Channing in that way.

  My stomach was unsettled, but I did my best to offer sound advice despite my biased discomfort. “I don’t blame you for being cautious. Just take one day at a time.” I needed water. I got up and walked toward the kitchen while still talking to him. “Where did you go after the Common?”

  He followed me. “You mean after we stopped talking about my awkward friend with the mutilated bag of underwear?”

  Taking out a glass and filling it, I laughed. “Did I embarrass you?”

  He leaned into the counter. “I’m just messing with you. We did laugh about it after you left, though. I told her a little about our friendship and history. Then, we left the Common and grabbed a bite to eat at Fuddruckers. After dinner, I walked her to the train. She hopped on the commuter rail. She lives in Waltham.”

  “Did you kiss her?” I spit out.

  “Once. Before she got on the train.”

  My face felt flush at the thought of that, and I wondered if my jealousy was transparent. I hoped not. I just kept staring at him for a bit. “I see.”

  That prompted him to ask, “Something else you want to ask?”

  “When are you seeing her again?”

  “I’m supposed to see her tomorrow night. But to be honest, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

  “You don’t completely trust her?”

  “I’m not sure. But honestly, I don’t know if I want anything serious with anyone—even her. My frame of mind isn’t exactly the same as it was when I met her. Stuff has happened since then. I don’t know what I want anymore.”

  I wondered what stuff he was referring to.

  “Well, she’s really beautiful. I can see why you’re drawn to her.”

  “She is.” He smiled, unable to deny that. “Any other questions?”

  “No. That’ll be all for tonight.”

  He leaned his back against the counter and crossed his arms. “So…any particular reason why you were stocking up on panties, Walnut?”

  “Can’t let a good sale go to waste.”

  He lifted his brow. “That’s it?”

  My face felt hot. “Yeah.”

  He was searching my eyes. “Okay…”

  I swallowed, feeling very uncomfortable. I didn’t like lying to him, but telling him why I’d really purchased the underwear was not an option.

  “Oh, check this out,” he said, taking out his phone. “We ran into Steven Tyler from Aerosmith downtown. He was just standing around talking to people, so we snapped a few photos.”

  “That’s so cool!”

  “I’m gonna go change,” he suddenly said before leaving me with his phone to peruse the photos.

  In one of the shots, Emily and Channing were on each side of Steven Tyler. I couldn’t tell which one of them had the more gorgeous smile.

  I sighed.

  As I tried to zoom in, I accidentally hit something that brought me to an index of photo albums categorized by year. Randomly, I clicked on 2015.

  Big mistake.

  I came upon something I never should have seen: a series of dick pics.

  OhmygodOhmygodOhmygod.

  There in all of its glory was Channing’s beautiful cock, just as thick and magnificent as I might have, on occasion, imagined it to be. The crown was perfectly rounded and in perfect proportion to the shaft, his golden skin slightly veined yet smooth. And it was long. Really long and thick.

  In the three photos, you could see the base of his tatted, carved V along with the thin line of hair forming a path down to his crotch.

  Footsteps!

  I freaked out as I heard him approach and accidentally dropped the phone onto the ground. He landed right in front of it, picking it up, and putting it in his pocket. “Whoa, be careful, butterfingers.”

  Oh, no.

  I froze because I didn’t know if it was going to open right up to the photo of his cock the next time he checked it. Had I somehow exited out? I didn’t think so.

  “How about a late dinner?” he asked.

  “Didn’t you already have something while you were out?”

  “I’m still hungry. If I make something, will you eat?”

  “Sure.”

  He examined my face, seeming to notice that something was off. “You alright?”

  “Yes,” I lied.

  Unable to look at him for the time being, I went to the couch in the living room and prayed that I’d dodged a bullet while Channing cooked us something. I didn’t want to be in the kitchen if he happened to look down at his phone.

  Several minutes later, he called out from the kitchen, “Food’s ready!”

  When I took a seat at the table, I immediately noticed that his phone was now out and on the counter. That meant he’d likely checked it if he’d taken it out of his pocket. So, the damage was either done or had been averted.

  He was acting totally normal, so I breathed a little sigh of relief as we dug into our food.

  This was fine.

  Maybe he didn’t notice.

  Maybe I had closed out of it.

  Just eat and forget about it.

  Yeah, right.

  I looked down at the meal in front of me. “This is…interesting.”

  “It’s something I’ve wanted to make for a while. It’s melted chocolate cheese pizza.”

  “Kill two birds with one stone. Dinner and dessert,” I said as I tried to remain calm.

 
It actually turned out to be really good. The tangy cheese and sweet chocolate atop the crispy crust made for an unexpectedly tasty contrast. Leave it to Channing to figure out the culinary potential in that unusual combination.

  He was looking at me intently when he asked, “How did you like it?”

  “It was delicious. Thank you.”

  He leaned in and crossed his arms. His voice was low. “I was referring to my dick.”

  The food caught in my throat. “Excuse me?”

  “You were looking at a picture of my dick earlier, weren’t you? It was open on my phone.”

  The pizza felt like it was coming up on me. “Uh…I can explain…”

  His brow lifted. “Yeah?”

  “I wasn’t looking for those pictures...I swear. I was looking at Steven Tyler then hit a button and the next thing I knew, it was 2015 and cockapalooza.”

  He started to crack up as he rubbed his eyes. “Cockapalooza…”

  “I’m mortified.”

  When his laughter died down, he said, “I’m the one who should be embarrassed, not you.”

  “Trust me, you have nothing to be embarrassed about.”

  Those words exited my mouth before I could think better of saying them.

  Great. I’d basically just complimented him on his cock.

  “Well, thank you.” He slid his phone toward me. “And if you think I have nothing but dick pics on my phone, feel free to scroll through everything. I’m pretty sure you found the one hidden gem in the lot.”

  I hit the cock lottery, apparently.

  I slid his phone back toward him. “Lucky me. Anyway, do you think it’s possible to never mention this again?”

  “But you’re so cute when you’re embarrassed. Seeing as though I’m not very cute, however, when I’m embarrassed…we can agree to forget this ever happened.”

  The fact that he actually seemed uncomfortable about this took me by surprise.

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem.” Channing surprised me with his next question as he changed the subject. “So, what do you think I should do about Emily?”

  We’re on this subject again? I would probably rather talk about the dick pic than her.

  “You’re asking me?”

  “Why not? I trust your opinion probably more than anyone’s.”

  He’d totally stumped me. I wanted to tell him that she didn’t deserve him, that she’d had her chance. But then I had to wonder if that answer was influenced by my selfish need to not have to witness him with her over the next several weeks. People make mistakes. They misjudge. Everyone deserves a second chance. Right? Still, the right answer was unclear to me.

  “I’m not sure what to tell you. I think you should honestly do what’s in your heart. I do believe everyone deserves at least one second chance, though.”

  He kept staring into my eyes then said, “Like the one you plan to give Rory.”

  “Rory isn’t asking for one.”

  “Yet.”

  “I don’t know what I would do if he did, to be honest. I mean, how can you ever trust someone who left you once?”

  He crossed his arms. “I know what my advice to you would be if he ever came back.”

  “You’d tell me not to take him back.”

  “You deserve better than someone who’s stupid enough to throw you away once.”

  “Why wouldn’t the same apply to you, then?”

  “I guess I don’t see my situation with Emily in the same way. We’d barely gotten started. I’d also given her no real indication that I was ready for a relationship, even though I might have been leaning in that direction. And looking back, I don’t think things had completely ended with her boyfriend. So, all things considered…I do think the situation is a lot different than yours.”

  “Makes sense. You didn’t have a long history like I did with Rory. He was my first…everything. And I thought he’d be my last. It’s hard to break away from the future I’d envisioned. I’m doing everything I can to try. But overall, I feel very lost.”

  Way to change the subject over to Rory, Amber.

  He took a while to respond then leaned in. “You’re placing value on the distorted idea that the decision he made somehow reflects on you. It doesn’t. You’re still you, and you have your whole life ahead of you. Fuck him.”

  His words were momentarily empowering. He always had a way of making me feel better even if it was only fleeting. I placed my hand on his arm. “Thank you. I needed that.”

  He was staring at me for a bit before he said, “You said that Rory was your first…everything.” Channing squinted his eyes like he was challenging me. “You sure about that?”

  My heart began to flutter. Was he getting at what I thought he was getting at?

  “Not your first kiss, though,” he said.

  He was getting at that.

  I. Could. Not. Believe. He. Brought. This. Up.

  It was never something that Channing and I discussed. It was almost like a dream. In fact, I sometimes doubted whether he even remembered or whether it even really took place. We were in such a fog that night. But it still happened. And it was a moment I could never forget.

  I finally replied, “No. You were my first kiss.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  * * *

  CHANNING

  Was I a dick for wanting her to acknowledge that I had a leg up on Rory in one thing?

  I’d always suspected that I was Amber’s first kiss. But I never asked her, because we’d simply never spoken about that moment in time. I could never handle talking about Lainey’s death, and the circumstances of that kiss were somehow tied into the tragedy of my sister’s passing.

  As far as first kisses went, ours was far from typical, far from sexual even. It was eclipsed by our mutual sadness and devastation. But in the midst of one of the darkest days of my life, that kiss was like a lifeline—my oxygen. It had given me a reason to breathe just when I thought my lungs were ready to give out.

  “I always figured that was your first kiss,” I said. “But I never knew for sure until you just confirmed it.”

  “I wasn’t sure if you remembered, Channing. I often wondered if you truly mentally blocked out that whole day.”

  “Much of that entire time is a blur, to the honest. But that moment…that kiss…is not something I could ever forget.”

  ***

  It was the evening of Lainey’s wake. I’d managed to pull myself together somehow, standing in that line and shaking hundreds of hands that were attached to blurry black figures.

  As much as I knew I needed to cry, I wouldn’t allow myself to. It was hard enough to watch my mother breaking down. I didn’t want her to have to see me cry because I knew it would kill her. So, I held it in.

  The preacher began to read something, and I knew I couldn’t take it. So, I slipped away, disappearing to a gazebo out in the back of the funeral home.

  To my surprise, Amber was there. Her hair was covering her face. She was alone and crying and didn’t see me at first. She’d been composed all night, too, but seeing that she’d stopped fighting it gave me silent permission to do the same.

  Unable to hold my tears in any longer, I let go in that moment. Moisture filled my eyes. I was too numb to even realize that I was crying were it not for the vibration of my ribs shaking in pain. Joining her on the bench, I held Amber in my arms and let those first tears fall into her hair. My crying was so intense that it was silent.

  We continued holding each other for an immeasurable amount of time. At one point, she turned her face toward me, and I could taste her breath; it felt like oxygen. Suddenly, tasting more of it became all I wanted in the world. Desperate to feel anything other than my pain, I took what I needed and kissed her.

  My eyes were closed, my breath shaking. It was hard and passionate and desperate, so different from any other kiss I’d ever experienced before or ever would experience again in my life. It was an expression of our pain and yet a reminder that we wer
e alive when we’d otherwise felt dead inside. Each thrust of my tongue and each moan into her mouth numbed that pain. It was intense and beautiful and sacred. It provided a momentary peace that words couldn’t.

  Interrupted by the footsteps of Amber’s father, I pried myself off of her just in the nick of time, even though it was the last thing I wanted to do. My heart was pounding. My palms were sweating. Amber looked dazed as she got up and left.

  And we never spoke of it again.

  ***

  “I was very lucky to have found you there that night,” I said.

  Tears began to glisten in her eyes. “I never told anyone about that kiss, not Rory, not anyone.”

  “Neither did I. It wasn’t the kind of kiss you talked about.”

  “Clearly, we didn’t.”

  “Well, you said Rory was your first everything. I thought I would take the liberty to remind you that technically that one belonged to me.”

  “It definitely did.” She smiled.

  Feeling the need to lighten the mood, I said, “I think I’m gonna make some tea. You want some?”

  It was late, but I was enjoying hanging out with Amber and wanted to prolong our little night cap.

  My reaction to her finding those photos on my phone surprised me. It affected me, and I couldn’t figure out exactly why. I’d flaunted my body to women enough times that you’d think it wouldn’t have. But this was different. This was Amber. She already had some preconceived notions about me, and while many of them were true at one time, I’d changed quite a bit in the past couple of years.

  After steeping two hot teas, I handed her one. “So, I finished The Law of Attraction. Are you ready to talk about our books?”

  She looked down into the steaming hot water and cringed. “Don’t kill me, but I haven’t finished The Alchemist.”