A Is for Alpha Male

by Laurel Curtis

  “What the fuck, Danny?” I asked softly, never having felt more confused in my life.

  He groaned and cursed under his breath, and I imagined him scrubbing a hand roughly down the entirety of his face.

  “Shit. Shit. Fucking fuck me,” he said, most definitely talking to himself, but cursing out loud this time, his carnal desperation still evident and making his words potent with edginess.

  “I’m sorry, Hales,” he said vaguely, his voice a heady combination of tight, strained, and rough as all hell.

  Sorry?

  Sorry he just did that?

  Sorry he was stopping?

  Sorry for what?!

  “I’ll call you tomorrow, Haley. We need to talk.”

  I’ll say we needed to effing talk, but I wanted to talk now.

  “Danny—” I started only to be cut off again.

  “Just don’t set up any dates for tomorrow, Hales,” he demanded softly, and then I had nothing but dead air.

  What. The. Hell?

  Apparently, I was destined to get absolutely no satisfaction tonight.

  Physical or mental.

  Cock. Sucker.

  LAST NIGHT, DANNY and I had stepped over a line. One that we couldn’t cross back over.

  Phone sex was like those tire spikes. The ones in parking lots that are designed to keep the parking lot traffic all moving in the same direction. Except the irreparable damage wouldn’t be to your tires but to your relationship.

  Severe relationship damage will occur if you try to reverse your actions. Do not back up.

  Once you’re in the “parking lot”, you’re committed. Whether you fully intended to pull in or not.

  Okay, I think that got my point across, albeit a little shakily.

  Bottom line, we could never un-have phone sex.

  And honestly, I really didn’t want to. I had more of a physical reaction to Danny over the phone than I had had to any other man in person.

  I knew that sounded unbelievable, perhaps even unfathomable, but it was just plain true.

  Last night was probably going to make today a little uncomfortable, but I was going to roll with it. Danny and I both had the ability to move on from awkwardness, we had already done it a couple of times in our short tenure as friends, and I had to hope that this time wasn’t going to be any different.

  Maybe it would be the catalyst for a change I desperately wanted. Maybe it would push us to the place I so wholly wanted to go.

  And maybe it wouldn’t.

  Sometimes reality didn’t come with a happily ever after.

  But I preferred to make like an ostrich, put my head in the sand, and deal with those challenges when they came. Later.

  My parents would have named me Haley Procrastinator Whitfield had they been clairvoyant. Since they weren’t, they stuck with Lilianna for my middle name.

  In the meantime, I was going to enjoy this trip with my mom, after I got her to talk to me again, that is. I was going to have fun, experience new things, and meet new people.

  But I was going to stay away from other men.

  What business did I have starting something with someone else when my heart was already wrapped around Dan Smith like a vine?

  About as much business as a cat owner has selling dog food. Or an Olympic swimmer has advertising for downhill ski equipment. Or a nun writing hard core erotica.

  Abso-fucking-none.

  I realized that that went against the initial goal of the trip, but I couldn’t help it that I had found someone at the beginning of our epic journey.

  I was going to keep trying to find Allison’s dream man for the rest of the trip, and when we were done, I was going to go back to Alabama and spend a few days getting things straight with Danny whether he thought it was a good idea or not.

  I would just hold off on telling him until he had no choice. Remember, forgiveness is easier to get than permission.

  “Plotting your strategy for total world domination?” Allison asked, sneaking up behind me and scaring the living daylights out of me.

  I was sitting in the chair in our hotel room, curled into a ball, stuck in the swirling tornado that was my thoughts. She had approached me from the bathroom, where she had taken up residence immediately after waking.

  We hadn’t spoken one word to each other since the death glare last night, and I couldn’t help but check both of her hands for knives and shivs, hoping that if she had one, I would be able to wrestle it away from her before meeting my untimely death.

  I was far too young and fun to die at the hands of my mother, and she was way too pretty to end up in prison. It would only take a matter of minutes for her to become someone’s bitch, and I didn’t want the responsibility for that kind of thing on my shoulders.

  Even if when I felt the burden, my shoulders were draped in white and already toned from supporting my sleek, sparkly angel wings.

  “Would you rather kill me or tell me about your date last night?” I asked, really hoping she would go for the talking and leave the murder for later.

  Give me time to get my affairs in order, that sort of thing.

  “Pros about Will,” Allison started instead of giving me a direct answer. “He was attractive, young looking for his age, and had no man boobs.”

  I nodded, settling my cheek onto the top of my bent knee.

  “Cons about Will,” she continued, and already, I knew this meant trouble. Three things, only three things, fell into the pro category and we were already moving onto the cons?

  Not. Good.

  “Everything else. He talked non-stop, literally could not pull his eyes away from my breasts, even while making conversation with me, and sucks on his teeth to get the food out from between them. And I could hear it.”

  Ugh. “How much do you hate me?” I asked, tucking my legs even further into my body as a last line of defense.

  “Well, I was pretty pissed before, but you look pretty pitiful right now, and it’s kind of taking the wind out of my sails.”

  Well, that was a relief. Taking a deep breath, I nodded and tucked my chin down behind my knee, biting my bottom lip in a sawing motion as I did.

  “Why do you look like you just found out Santa isn’t real?” she asked, the pitch of her head shifting to the side with her concern.

  “Santa’s not real?!” I shouted in fake shock, hoping to bring the mood up rather than down.

  She just shook her head minutely and smiled a small, contemplative smile.

  I watched as her unnaturally bright eyes flashed, an indication that signaled the end of her reflection.

  She had made an assessment and followed through with a decision accordingly.

  When she reached out a feminine hand, cupped my jaw, and then moved it to give my thigh a swirling pat, I knew that she had decided I would tell her my troubles in my own time if given the chance to breathe. And that when I did, my feelings would be much more honest and unfiltered than if she forced the confrontation now.

  She knew me well. I needed the time it took for thoughts and feelings to ruminate and season. I needed them to settle deep into the pit of my stomach and eat their way through my extremities.

  I needed the time to mine through the waste and get to the heart of my issues. For many people, time aided in confusing emotions. But not me.

  Given time, I accepted the facts fully and used my sense of brutal honesty to weed through them all.

  Time often addled the brain, but for me, it brought nothing but clarity.

  And Allison, even being mad at me, loved me enough to give it.

  Our next destination was the Grand Canyon.

  It was something I had always wanted to see, and I figured the time was now. I had to take advantage of the fact that I was on the western side of the country. I didn’t get out to Arizona very often, shockingly enough.

  Since we didn’t leave until around lunchtime, we decided to do the drive in two shifts, much like the drive to Colorado. There was no reason to rush, and I had a
lot on my mind.

  Sensing my reflective mood, Allison volunteered to drive first for a change.

  Despite the miles and miles we had already driven, a long drive in the car seemed like the perfect way to spend the day.

  Listening to tunes, feeling the warm wind on my face, and letting my mind take the meandering journey my thoughts dictated was exactly what the doctor ordered.

  Unfortunately, the inside of my brain was a messy place, my self-awareness and its ongoing construction, and mental instability aiding in my many detours.

  In between things of substance, I thought of shoes, and puppy dogs, and rainbow colored beach umbrellas.

  I had a feeling that I would feel better when I talked to Danny. Not because I relied on him to bolster my self-confidence, but because I wasn’t sure how he was feeling.

  That was the kicker. Every time I circled around Conclusion Airport, I had no trouble coming in for a landing.

  I was happy about the change of events.

  Besides worrying about what was going through Danny’s head, I felt great. Last night had been one of the first times I’d felt right in a long time.

  Danny and I fit. Our puzzle pieces were so fucking perfect together, it was like I had carved them myself. He let my rants and ramblings run wild, only reining me in when absolutely necessary. He handled me like only Allison could, pushing me and stepping back at all the right times. He wasn’t an open book, but what he did share was bold and honest.

  And last night proved that I was so sexually attracted to him that I would never be able to let it go, pretend it didn’t exist, and live a completely platonic, friends only life with him.

  Why did I seemingly have all of these issues now that Danny was in my life when I was so self-content before? Because you can’t know your missing something if you don’t know it exists.

  Now that I knew Danny, things didn’t feel right without him, and other men didn’t measure up to the yardstick he created.

  The satisfactory of yesterday was the new abso-fucking-lutely unacceptable of today.

  About five hours of total drive time later, we stopped for the night in Moab, Utah.

  There weren’t many options for stopovers on the route from Denver to the South Rim of the Grand Canyon, and Moab had some of the prettiest Canyonlands views.

  Once Allison and I had settled into our room at the Best Western Plus Canyonlands Inn, I made my way down to the pool to call Danny.

  It was after the ideal swimming hours, had fantastic views, and was outside of earshot of my mom, so I figured the pool was a great place to make a phone call.

  And yes, I was making it. I was tired of waiting to hear from Danny, not knowing what he was thinking or feeling. He put his number in my phone; I should be able to call him.

  The rich sound of his voice coming over the line after two short rings allowed me to release the breath I hadn’t known I was holding.

  “Swear to Christ, Hales, I’m not avoiding you. Believe it or not, I was really busy today. I was actually just about to call you,” he explained, his truthfulness evident in every syllable.

  “Sure you were,” I teased, fully aware that I was setting the tone for the entire phone call.

  I wanted things to be normal, for both of us to be true to ourselves. I didn’t want to change the way things were at all.

  I just wanted to take it a step further, to add a layer to our relationship that included blow jobs and orgasms. Hot sex and steamy showers. Cuddling and breakfast in bed.

  And maybe, if I was really fucking lucky, marriage and babies. Forever and ever.

  Well, shit. There you have it. There was the honesty.

  It took me a while, but my thoughts finally finished the loop around the inside of my head, settled my feelings deep into my gut, and sealed my fate.

  I was in love with him. Fucking love. With Dan Fucking Smith.

  And I hadn’t even seen his penis.

  “I was, Hales. I haven’t been able to think about anything else all day.”

  Grabbing the dainty, paisley printed, imaginary balls hanging between my legs and lifting them up, I asked boldly, “The almost phone sex or me in general?”

  Go. Me.

  In that moment, I was seriously impressed with myself.

  “Goddamn, baby doll.” I could hear his breathing start to labor. “Both,” his replied, his tone as rough as a rumble strip. And his forthright answer was as jarring as waking up to the sound of that very same rumble strip from a dead sleep behind the wheel.

  “Listen, I’ve been thinking about it and—” I started, only to be cut off by the sound of him talking angrily to someone else.

  The words were indistinct, but the tone was clear.

  “—I’m in love with you, and I think you should never leave my side,” I finished to myself, knowing full well I wasn’t ready to actually start saying things like that out loud.

  His angry voice seemed like it was conceding to something, and he got rid of the anger and softened exponentially before talking to me again. “Hales, God baby, I am so sorry, but I’ve got to go.”

  Great. We hadn’t gotten anything straightened out.

  “Alright,” I said, unable to completely mask the air of disappointment in my voice.

  “Baby doll, do not read anything into this. We’ll talk about everything, first chance I get. I promise,” he consoled me.

  His sincerity was indisputable and went a long way to making me feel better about not getting everything out in the open.

  It was clear he cared about me; the degree to which that caring extended just wasn’t quite as transparent.

  LIFTING HER CAMERA into the up and ready position, Allison snapped yet another picture.

  I rolled my eyes and sighed heavily. “Why are you taking pictures of deer? We see deer all of the time at home.”

  “Yes, but these are Grand Canyon deer,” she explained, as I made my way past the entrance of the park.

  “You make them sound like a different species. They’re just deer...at the Grand Canyon.”

  She huffed and puffed, and if I knew her, she was struggling to put what she wanted to say into some combination of nice words. Finally, after almost a solid minute of heavy breathing, she gave it up and told me her thoughts straight out. “Just shut up, be a good daughter, and let me get my rocks off taking pictures of deer.”

  Not only was her argument cohesive, I was also proud of her for giving it to me bluntly. So I gave in easily, murmuring a soft, altogether agreeable, “Fair enough.”

  We drove the rest of the way in in relative silence, but I could hear the faint sound of her camera taking pictures about every thirty seconds.

  It had been a long drive to get here, a drive that was long on top of all the driving we had already done, but I was amped with excitement. The Grand Canyon was finally going to get crossed off of my life’s to-do list.

  When we pulled up to park at one of the first viewing areas on the south rim, I almost couldn’t control the accelerated, rhythmic beating of my heart and the excitement zinging through my veins.

  Allison climbed out of the Mustang, did a little skip slash jump combination, and then took off toward the rim, her camera looking decidedly like an extension of her hand.

  We took our time, taking in all of the different views we could, moving from place to place, and then took a couple of selfies with the Canyon in the background.

  Finding a volunteer, we took a couple of real pictures of the two of us, and then did each other the favor of taking a couple of individual pictures.

  Awed and inspired, I settled in, hands on hips and surveyed the beautiful natural creation.

  My eyes devoured the landscape, focusing on the vibrancy the different layers of rocks added and the river that had carved such magnificence below.

  I couldn’t believe how pretty it was. Expansive, otherworldly, and a perfect display of nature’s wonder. It was exactly as the name described—Grand. Grand in both stature and beauty, t
he Grand Canyon was a must for bucket lists.

  Taking a deep breath, letting the fresh, crisp air settle into my lungs fully before breathing back out, I surveyed my magnificent surroundings one more time before turning around to look for my natural creator. My mom.

  I expected her to be right behind me, but when I turned around, all I found was a stiff breeze and widely open space.

  Where was she?

  I searched the surrounding area, focusing on groups of people and locations that seemed appropriate for photo ops. Especially since she had turned into the paparazzi since we got there.

  Nothing.

  Starting to panic, I turned to head back in the direction we came from, not really sure what I was going to look for or do, but knowing that I had to do something.

  My palms were sweaty despite the aridity, and my heart beat at an accelerated pace. What if she had been kidnapped? Or momnapped. Fucking napped!

  As my panic started to reach a precipice, a location on the top of a cliff that I wasn’t sure I could come back from, I heard a low moan, followed by a pitiful cry for help.

  It was barely audible, but it sounded remarkably like Allison.

  Turning around so that I was facing the direction of the cries, I saw a hand on the edge, just barely hanging on, familiar, pretty red fingernails clawing at the dirt and rock for purchase.

  Oh my God! She fell over the edge!

  Allison fell over the edge!

  Oh God!

  I took off at a dead run, moving faster than I ever had in my life, shoving people out of the way when necessary.

  Dread settled in the pit of my stomach and spread like a flesh eating virus.

  This road trip.

  This stupid road trip that was my idea was going to end up taking away my best friend, my confidant, and my mother in one fell swoop.

  As soon as I was within ten feet, I dove a perfect swan dive, my legs straight out behind me and a slight arch shaping my back, with the goal of securing her hand and giving her a chance to pull the rest of her body up.

  “Hold on, Mama,” I reassured her, as I clamped my fingers around her arm with enough pressure to turn them white. “I’ve got you!”