No Tomorrow

by Carian Cole

  Using the plastic knife that was in the bag, I scrape some of the mound of cream cheese off my bagel and smile shyly. “Are we friends now?” I ask.

  “We are.” He straddles the bench so he’s facing me. “The ladybug is hard at work making us soul mates,” he says with dazzling eyes and a crooked smile full of cockiness. I laugh but my insides are doing acrobatics.

  “Is that right?”

  He bites into his bagel and nods as he chews. “Yup.”

  Our eyes linger on each other, the air between us full of hope and desire mixed with wisps of caution and defiance. If this keeps up, I may just start believing in his bug myths.

  “Do you play in bars often?” I ask, needing to break the silence that looms over us.

  “Maybe two or three times a month. I could probably get more gigs, but I have to bring Acorn with me, and not all the managers let him inside. I’m not just gonna tie him up outside and leave him.”

  “I’ll watch him for you if you ever need me to. I could take him for a walk, and he could sit in my car with me while he waits for you.”

  He leans closer and kisses the spot just below my ear, then pauses there with his nose in my hair, breathing me in. I savor the tickling sensation of his breath against my neck and flutter my eyes closed.

  “Will you wait for me, too?” He moves his lips to my neck.

  I lean my head against his. “If you want me to,” I murmur.

  “I want.” He closes his mouth over my collarbone, and pulls me closer, between his legs. A turn of my head brings our lips together, and we kiss slow and soft, unlike the fiery, impatient kisses we shared before. Does the tenderness hint at emotion and care, or is this his well-orchestrated strategy to make me even more inebriated with him?

  He pulls away and stares into my eyes, keeping his arm tight around me.

  “I felt you wander,” he says.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I can back off if you’re not into this.”

  I grab his hand. “No,” I reply, shaking my head back and forth. “I-I don’t want you to.” I lace my fingers with his to solidify my words. “I’m just a little… thrown, I guess. By all of this. And what we’re doing.”

  “We’re enjoying the moment. Right?”

  “Right.” I picture myself introducing him to my parents. This is Blue, who I enjoy long moments with…

  He gazes across the park, his eyes a shade darker than they were when we were kissing. I wish I hadn’t questioned his motives.

  “Piper, I live moment to moment. I don’t mean to sound like a dick, but you can either take it or leave it. Don’t analyze it. I like you. I want to spend time with you. But that’s all I got right now.”

  I let his words sink in, wondering where the ladybug myth is now. Regardless, I have to appreciate his honesty, even if it makes my heart ache.

  Here, in my own moment, I’m a girl who’s crazy about a guy. Of course I want the dates and the title and the commitment and the hope of endless tomorrows together. But I still wouldn’t trade these random moments with him for anything.

  Pressing my lips to his cheek, I whisper, “I’ll take it.”

  He grabs the back of my neck and pulls me to him. The deep, demanding kiss is back, this time with a vengeance. The tightness of his grip beneath my hair and the rapture of his mouth on mine feels as if he wants to inhale me, swallow me, consume and own me. I don’t fight it because I feel the same way.

  I want this man to be mine. His lips, his touch, his lust, his smile, his love. I want it all, and I’ll wait a lifetime for him if that’s what it takes. Call it lust or love. Call it whatever you want. I’m in deep. I’m drowning in him, and no lifeboat is coming to save me.

  The longer we kiss, the more my body and heart want. His tongue rolling around mine stirs up a surge of desire that travels through my veins like liquid fire. My breasts ache to be touched and sucked by his amazing lips, and my thighs burn to be wrapped around his waist.

  He groans into my mouth when I touch his cheek and run my hand through his hair, and then he pulls away with a heavy breath. “We better stop, or I’m going to drag you under this table like the dog did that cookie.”

  I laugh, but I’m not sure I’d be able to stop him if he did just that.

  “Keep laughin’, Ladybug,” he warns with a naughty, sexy grin as he lights up a cigarette. “I’ll show you I ain’t kidding.”

  Smiling, I reach for my latte and finish it off, inwardly composing myself before I lose all control and pull him under the table myself. His lethal combination of hot and cute has managed to steal my virginity and sexual shyness in a matter of days, and it’s got my head spinning and my heart pounding and my panties melting.

  “So… did you live around here… before?” I ask, hoping to get our minds off under-the-table shenanigans.

  “I lived in New Jersey.”

  “Is that where your family is?”

  “Most of them.”

  “Do you think you’ll go back there?”

  He shrugs. “I’ll wander through, but I won’t live there again.”

  “What made you come to New Hampshire?”

  “I wanted to see the leaves in the fall.”

  Ah, a man after my own heart. I look up at the trees surrounding us, gauging their color. “They’ll start to change soon. Probably in about three weeks.” As I talk, he moves his hand under the back of my shirt and stays there, warm against my spine. “Did you really just walk to New England when you left Jersey two years ago?”

  “No. I traveled all the way to California, hung out in some cool places, then moved to the next place.”

  “You walked all the way to the West Coast?” I ask in disbelief.

  “No.” He laughs. “Sometimes I hopped a bus or a train, or I hitchhiked.”

  “Oh. Don’t you ever miss your family?”

  “Sure, sometimes. If I pass a payphone, I drop them a line. Let them know I’m still alive.”

  “They must worry about you, no?”

  “I think they’re used to it by now. They’re not the worrying types.”

  “My mom would never get used to that. She’s ready to call a search party if I’m half an hour late from work.”

  “Yeah, well, mine has had years of practice.”

  I wonder when he plans to move on from here. The question sits on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t let it out. I swallow it down, and the words scurry to that place inside me where insecurity, doubt, and denial all huddle together, afraid to come out.

  “How ‘bout you?” he asks. “Have you always lived here?”

  “Yes. My grandparents and parents were all born here. It’s home.”

  “You ever think about leaving?”

  “No, not really. I wouldn’t mind going somewhere else for a vacation, but I’ve never had the urge to move away.”

  “Do you think that’s true contentment or just staying where you’re comfortable?”

  He’s echoed the question I’ve posed to myself many times in many different scenarios.

  “I really don’t know. Is there a difference?”

  “I think there is. Either is okay as long as you’re happy. Me? I never feel content. There’s always that feeling that there’s more out there I need to see. More people I need to meet. More things I need to do. It haunts me.”

  “You’re restless.”

  “Yeah. I want it, though.” The grip of his hand on my waist brings a dull pain, and I realize his fingers are directly over the fading bruises from the night under the bridge. A wave of heat warms my inner thighs. “I want contentment,” he says.

  “I’m sure you’ll find it.” I hope he finds it right here in this tiny town, with me.

  “Hope so. Otherwise, I’ll be wandering forever.”

  “Maybe you can wander yourself back here every fall,” I say with a shy smile I hope is slightly flirty.

  “Maybe I can.”

  We finish our bagels, and then he takes his guitar out and p
lays every song I request. I laugh and try to pick songs I think he won’t know or can’t play, but he plays every one, even a childhood favorite—the theme song from a cartoon. Then he switches it up and asks me to guess the band and title of a piece of a melody he plays, and I fail miserably.

  “C’mon. Don’t you listen to music at all?” he asks, laughing.

  “I do, but I never know what band I’m listening to.”

  He shakes his head as he puts his guitar back in the case. “In your defense, those were songs that never got a lot of air play, but they’re some of my favorites.”

  I hope he’s not disappointed in my lack of song knowledge. I’m sure the beautiful singer of that band he played with knows every title to every song and I wonder if that’s a trait he’s interested in. Music seems to be his life, so it wouldn’t surprise me.

  By now the sun is starting to set, the sky turning a blazing orange and pink, but I don’t want to go home yet.

  “Do you want to go for a drive?” I suggest.

  There’s no hesitation. He just nods yes, and I hope that means he’s enjoying our time together as much as I am. He grabs his things, and we head toward my car. That’s when I truly understand he doesn’t have anything other than his guitar, his duffel bag and all it contains, and his dog. Naively, I had thought he had more belongings stashed away somewhere.

  “Why don’t you drive?” I offer when we reach my car. “I’m kind of a crappy driver.”

  He catches the keys I toss to him. “You don’t mind?” He raises his eyebrow at me.

  “No. I’d rather you drove.” Not just because I’m sure he’s a better driver than I am, but also because having a guy drive feels more date-like to me. That feeling amplifies when he opens the passenger-side door, waits for me to climb in, then closes it behind me.

  “Where to?” he asks after he’s run around the front of the car and climbed behind the wheel. I laugh as he moves the seat back to give his long legs room.

  “Anywhere.”

  He smiles as he adjusts the rearview mirror. “Anywhere is my favorite place.”

  Anywhere turns out to be a random drive around town, past the street I live on without him even knowing it, and to a drive-in burger place. This time I let him pay without making a move for my wallet. We sit in the parking lot, eating burgers and fries and drinking thick vanilla malts. We take turns feeding Acorn a plain burger that the guy at the window was nice enough to make for us without the usual slathering of condiments and pickles.

  “Do you need to be anywhere?” he asks as he pulls the car out of the parking lot.

  “Nope. Nowhere.”

  It’s odd having nowhere to go to be together. When Josh and I dated, we mostly hung out in his parents’ finished basement or in his bedroom if they weren’t home. He’d make us popcorn, and we’d watch the movies we’d rented, always laughing about how we wouldn’t bring them back a week late this time. But they were always late and not rewound to the beginning, and we’d have to pay extra in fees. That was the extent of our worries as a young couple.

  Evan drives as if he knows his way around very well, and I don’t question it. Maybe he’s walked every inch of this town, or maybe he’s just so good at wandering aimlessly he can make it look natural. I don’t care where we’re going. My hand is in his, and he’s singing along with the radio, turning to sing to me when there’s a lyric about love or wanting someone, and it makes my heart almost beat out of my chest. He looks happy, free, and incredibly hot with the open window blowing his hair. For the first time, I wish I had a sports car because he would look so damn good driving a fast muscle car with his tattooed arm hanging out the window.

  A quick shot of panic hits me when he turns down a dark road I’ve never driven before. To be honest, I’m not sure what town we’re in. I’ve been so engrossed listening to his voice and just being with him that I stopped paying attention to our surroundings over an hour ago. Up ahead, I see nothing but total darkness, but as we drive farther, a few streetlamps appear. He stops the car just as the headlights reflect over the dark, shimmering water of a lake.

  “Have you been here before?” I ask when he turns off the engine.

  Nodding, he checks on Acorn in the back seat. “We’re not far from the park. We just made a really big circle.”

  “Oh.” I’m alarmed at my total lack of sense of direction.

  He leans back against the headrest. “Thanks for letting me drive. It’s been a long time.”

  “You’re welcome. If you sing every time you drive, I may just let you chauffeur me everywhere,” I tease.

  “You like my singing that much?”

  “I do, Blue. Your voice is like… chocolate.”

  He turns in his seat and looks at me like I’m crazy. “Chocolate?” he repeats with a laugh.

  “Yes. It’s all smooth and yummy.”

  He reaches across the car, grabs me, and pulls me playfully onto his lap.

  “You finally called me Blue.”

  He takes my face in his hands and brings my mouth to his, kissing me until the shy smile fades from my lips. I fall into a euphoric daze again as his hands roam over my body, and he maneuvers me until I’m straddling him in the seat.

  “I want you to drive now,” he whispers against the soft sensitive spot of my throat.

  “Oh… okay.” I move to get off him, but his hands slide forward to cup my breasts.

  “No.” The metal of his tongue piercing is cold against my flesh as his mouth travels back up to my lips. “Drive me.” He pulls me down harder against him as he whispers the words, and the hardness of his cock pressing against me through our jeans sparks an instant flash of heat between our bodies.

  He stares up at me with his dark, brooding eyes as if he’s daring me to stop him from unbuttoning my jeans, but I don’t. Instead, I reach between us to unfasten his, and a sexy grin crosses his lips. His sensuality is contagious. With him, I feel sexy and beautiful rather than small and awkward. I let him push my jeans and panties down to my ankles, and I lift myself just enough for him to pull off one of my boots and slip one of my legs out of my clothes. Eyes still on mine, he leans the seat back and quickly pushes his pants down, pulling a single condom out of his pocket as he does so.

  “For you,” he says softly, holding the silver foil package between us.

  I nod, watching him tear it open and then slip it over his shaft, and it seems like a shame to cover such a beautiful part of his body.

  Taking my hand in his, he guides it to his cock, coaxing me to wrap my fingers around him. I grip him through the thin latex as he slips his hand between my thighs.

  “You’re so tight and juicy.” His voice is ragged with deep breaths as his fingers caress and explore. “Come here.” He grasps my waist with urgency, and he watches with hooded, possessive eyes as I slowly descend onto him.

  Sudden, sharp pain accompanies the first few inches as his cock stretches me, but I bite my lip and take more, leaning my palms against his wide chest for leverage while he lifts and lowers me. My naked ass bumps against the leather steering wheel as I slowly ride him. Groaning, he wraps his arms around me and kisses me ferociously, our long hair in our faces and getting caught in our mouths.

  We don’t care.

  Our bodies find a slow, deep, entrancing rhythm. We lose ourselves in every kiss and touch and find each other again. For the first time in my life, I don’t feel out of place or disconnected. I feel beautiful and wanted. I feel—and I believe—that I belong right here with Evan and nowhere else in the world.

  Maybe I’m crazy and this is just a crush that will fizzle and fade.

  But the way my heart flutters in my chest and the way he holds my face and stares into my eyes like there’s nothing else in the world to look at makes me believe we’re going to be so much more.

  I gasp when he moans and thrusts himself deeper and harder into me, and he moves his hand between us to stroke my clit. Within seconds, he’s got my entire body quivering at his t
ouch and completely under his control despite me being on top. I start to come just moments before he does, but we ride the height of the surge and shudder together, breathing heavy as our lips clash against each other, seeking and claiming more.

  He smooths my hair back from my face and plants soft, warm kisses on my lips, down my throat, and over my chest until my breathing calms. I stay in his arms with absolutely no thoughts of running away from him—unlike the last time.

  “You’re so fuckin’ perfect,” he whispers between kisses, and I feel like I could soar to the moon.

  “I’m not,” I reply. “But you make me feel like I am.”

  “You are, baby. You are. And you better not disappear for a week again,” he warns.

  “I won’t. I promise.”

  We separate and quietly pull our clothes back on. The inside of the car is steamy and smells of sex and smoke. I want to bottle the scent and sprinkle it on my pillows and bed sheets to linger in all night. My legs are still wobbly, and my sore insides sting when we walk Acorn in the grass around the lake, but I don’t mind the lingering effects of being with him. Every movement is a reminder of him inside me, as close as close can be, and I want to emboss it all in my flesh.

  After Acorn does his business, Evan drives us back to the park, which does turn out to be only fifteen minutes from the lake.

  “How is it that you know this town better than I do, and I grew up here?” I joke as he turns off the headlights but leaves the car running.

  “Because I wander, and you don’t.”

  Hmm. I’ve never quite thought about it before, but he’s right. I’m a creature of comfort and habit.

  Usually. But not lately.

  “I had fun today,” I say, saving my non-wandering habits to analyze later.

  “Yeah?” He gives my lips a quick kiss. “Me too. I’ll see ya soon.”

  He’s out of the car with his belongings and Acorn before I have a chance to say anything, and now I’m driving home all sorts of confused and unsettled. I feel like I was reading a book that ended abruptly, with the remainder of the pages missing.

  I was hoping he’d want to see me tomorrow and at least let me know that, but he left without any solid indication that he ever wanted to see me again, other than as some girl who sits on a park bench and listens to his music.