by Jaycee Ford
The bonfire danced in the darkness as fireflies fluttered like stars. The keg had floated hours ago, leaving us with only whiskey to drink. The heat of the summer reminded me that Ellie would be going away soon. This was the last night I would see her for more than likely the rest of my life. My heart broke as I shot back more whiskey, hoping the burn would numb the pain that I would have to endure forever: A life where I would stay in the country and farm while she went to college, back in New York City, her home.
“Why are you sitting all alone, Paul?”
I turned toward the voice of an angel. Her hair blazed as bright as the fire. My eyes drew to hers of sapphire and emerald. She nestled her bottom lip between her teeth. Why she always did that around me, I would never know, but it drove me insane. I hopped out of one of the folding chairs surrounding the crackling bonfire and stood in front of her, stepping closer than I ever had before. I knew the whiskey pushed me forward, but I didn’t want to be held back anymore.
“Ellie,” I whispered. My finger brushed down her cheek, and her breath caught in her throat. Grazing my thumb over her bottom lip, I pried it from her teeth. Her eyes were wide in the fire’s light.
“I’m sorry.”
I dove to her lips of whiskey, holding her face in my hands. Her mouth moved so slowly against mine that it was as if we were in tune with each of our movements. Her tongue grazed mine as I sought hers. My hands moved down her body, pulling her hips close to me. Hers roamed up my chest to my cheeks. I tilted my head and deepened our kiss. The purpose of my life was standing before me, and I finally had her—at least for this moment. Our kiss slowed and I coddled her face again.
“Don’t go.”
“I have to, Paul.” Her hands covered mine.
I studied her face for any sign of hope. “Will you come back?”
She paused, waiting for a truth that hadn’t been said. “Will I have something to come back to?”
“Me. You have me.”
She swallowed. I knew what she would ask next, and a lump formed in mine.
“Are you going to tell Lance, then?” My eyes winced in despair. She shook her head at my reaction. “I know. Bros before hoes.”
“Ellie, y’all have only been broken up for a few weeks.”
“And the only reason why I stayed with him while he cheated on me countless times was to be close to you, but you would never date me because of y’all’s stupid bro code.” She pulled away from my grasp, shaking her head. “I need more than that.”
She turned away, not hearing or ignoring my whispering call of her name.
Cold blasted my cheeks as she turned around, wearing a white coat and a purple knitted cap. Her face had matured in six years, but time only made it more beautiful. I followed her. I knew she wanted me to six years ago. She gazed out the window at the snow-covered mountains, and I drew slow steps behind her, causing the anticipation to build between us. I knew she wanted me; she knew I wanted her. I was going to take her, and I wasn’t going to let her go.
She stood before me without any barriers between us. I hardened at the sight of her naked beauty. I would love every inch of her body three times over to show her my true feelings. Watching her come undone beneath me was a wonder that I never dreamed possible. I knew she wanted me; I could feel it. I wrapped my arms around her, breathing in her sweet scent. Love echoed in my mind as I prayed my heart whispered it to hers. I was bound by loyalty never to cross that line, but watching her leave six years ago told me that I would dance that tightrope until I tumbled to the ground.
Her scent faded as the late morning haze glowed through the window. I squeezed her tight, feeling no resistance. My eyes flickered open to find my arms around her vacant pillow. Where is she? I shot up in the bed, frantically looking around the room. I couldn’t see her. I couldn’t hear her. My bare feet fell to the rug-covered floor as I headed to the dresser. A note lay on my Stetson: Use it. A ten-digit number accompanied her words. She had gone. I didn’t have a chance to whisper her name before she left.
My heart crushed into its depression again. The cold seeped back through me. I picked up the note and a little warmth fluttered. She wanted me to keep in touch with her. She wanted me to six years ago and I didn’t. Could I now? It had been six years, but Lance was still my best friend.
Give me this one night, and tomorrow, we can go back to being friends.
She had agreed to my statement. I could only ever be her friend, a friend that possessed her body in every way. I had six months to prepare for her return, and I knew that she would. I would keep this night to myself. I would keep my undying love hidden.
• • •
The night crawled in as I sat in front of my fireplace with a blanket wrapped around me and my phone clenched within my grip. I had programmed her number in my cell and now stared at the two-one-two area code. I glanced back at the fire with doubt. My heart was already far gone. If I had to hear her voice for six months, I didn’t think my loyalty would be enough, and I would ruin a lifelong friendship. I didn’t think I would ever resent her for it, but I didn’t want the possibility.
I leaned my head back, staring at the rock chimney, the dark room surrounding me. The fire’s shadow danced on the ceiling. The vision of her hair lying across the pillow came to mind. The texture of her hair grazed between my fingers like silk, yet smelled like the summer sun. My dream of the past flashed before me as her eyes begged me to give her the answer I yearned to give, but I couldn’t do that to my best friend. I still couldn’t, but the way she felt beneath me was more of a heaven than I ever thought imaginable.
The heat of the fire became stuffy with my thoughts and emotions tormenting my body. I tossed my phone on the end table beside my recliner and my bare feet padded against the hardwood floor to the picture window, looking outside of my small mill house. The rolling hills were still covered with snow as the area braced itself for another blizzard, making this the coldest winter on record. Last night, my heart felt the warmest it ever had.
The ring of my phone pulled me out of my daze. For a fleeting second, I hoped it was Ellie, but I remembered that she didn’t have my number. I had hers and I still didn’t know if I was going to use it. I crossed the living room, the fire’s heat warming my toes. As I grabbed the phone, the name of the one man standing in my way flashed across the screen. My finger swiped to answer the call.
“Hey, Lance. What’s up?” Country music blared in the background.
“Paul! Come out to Dixie’s. They opened up for a bit tonight. Tom won’t come because of the farm, and I need a wingman.” He hollered to Mrs. Betty, the owner of Dixie’s Tavern, for another refill.
“When have you ever needed a wingman?” I asked. He groaned at my response.
“Okay, fine. I need a cock-blocker. Angela keeps cock blocking me from this bunny with black hair. I need you to distract her.”
I sighed. I did not want to succumb to the leech. That was Lance’s business, but I also needed a distraction from Ellie. I still needed to figure out if I was going to use her number or not.
“Is the hill clear?” I wouldn’t have Ellie to keep me warm tonight if I couldn’t get back up the hill.
“Yeah, no one’s around really. Only about twenty people in the bar too. Town is dead.”
I nodded, knowing I had to get out of my head a bit. “Okay, be there in a few.”
Subjecting myself to a leech and leaving the girl of my dreams behind—the things I did for my best friend.
• • •
The night wind whipped against my face as I tilted my head down against it, hoping the brim of my hat would ward off the briskness. When I reached the corner door, I yanked it open to the warming smell of cigarettes and whiskey. The jukebox crooned a tune of new country as a handful of people danced in the middle of the floor. Apparently, they needed to let off some of the cabin fever. The televisions on the wall above the bar played a sports news show, highlighting the upcoming playoff games. Lance kept his eye on o
ne and was doing his best not to pay attention to the leech at his side. This would be a simple task; she knew that I wouldn’t put out. I tried to explain to her once that if she wouldn’t bed hop so much, men would take her more seriously. Some people never change, but in the same respect, I believed Lance was one of those same people.
“Angela, how are you this evening?”
She turned around as I took off my leather jacket. A sexy smirk rose on her face, highlighting her dimples. Her blue eyes were dull in the darkness of the bar, but her hair had brightened since the last time I saw her. It appeared freshly highlighted.
“Hey, stranger.” She kissed me on the cheek. My eyebrows lifted in Lance’s direction. He smirked and slid off his bar stool, heading directly to the crowd of dancers. I watched him twirl an exotic beauty, setting up his nightly conquest.
“How have you been?” I asked. “Did the semester go okay at the community college?”
“Yeah, I didn’t do too badly.” She stopped and turned around, and when she noticed Lance had vanished into the circle of dancers, she groaned, grabbed her bag, and stormed out.
I smiled at my cock-blocking skills and mounted the stool in front of me.
“Mrs. Betty,” I said, gaining the owner and bartender’s attention. “A draft and a shot of Jack please.”
She nodded from down the bar. After pouring, she slid the shot toward me. I pounded it back, and then she followed it up with the beer. I caught it in my hand as soon as I placed down the empty shot glass.
The warmth of the whiskey surrounded my heart, tasting the memory of her lips against mine. I was back at square one again, the memory of her keeping me warm. I shook my head, realizing that, this time, I didn’t just have a look or her lips. I owned her whole body. I glanced behind me at Lance. He had a girl welcomingly cornered.
I took out my phone and scrolled through my contacts. The name Ellie Caldwell came into view. I pressed a button and typed:
My arms were cold this morning when you snuck off. When do you return?
THE HEADACHE OF the traffic and horns slammed me back into the reality of the city as the cab jerked through the streets of Manhattan to my apartment. After the delayed flight and the long wait at baggage claim, I turned on my phone, hoping to have a voicemail from Paul, but I didn’t. It was too much wishful thinking on my part. I had one-night stands before—against my better judgment, of course—but I didn’t think it would have been with someone I wanted so deeply.
I rubbed my chest to ease the ache as I gazed at the hustle and bustle. Diet be damned. I was stuffing the hole in my heart with pizza and beer. That was certain.
My phone rang its low tune as we neared my apartment. Hope buzzed through me as I glanced at my phone. I pressed the illuminated screen to answer as a smile spread across my face, but it was for a different man.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Hey, El. Did you make it back okay?”
I had just seen him a few days prior when he drove up from Myrtle Beach to see some of his buddies for the college bowl games. We talked a few times a week on average. He visited me in New York from time to time, but that was my first trip down south since I had fled to the city after high school.
“Yes, sir, I did. Did you start using that gym membership I got you?” I knew he hadn’t used his Christmas gift yet, but I was still going to bug him anyway.
“Uh … well …”
“I’m pulling up to my apartment now. Love you. Go to the gym in the morning.” I squeezed a few bills through the slot for the cab driver and hopped out with the phone squeezed between my ear and my shoulder. My father chuckled in my ear.
“Good night, honey.”
I tossed my phone into my purse and hustled out of the cold as I entered the lobby of my Upper East Side apartment building.
“Good evening, Ms. Caldwell. Did you have a good trip?” Mason, the doorman, greeted me as I walked through the lobby. He was short, but not as short as I was, with graying hair and black-rimmed glasses.
“Yes, sir. Thank you. It was a nice trip.”
My heels clicked against the marble tile floor as the renovated art deco lobby welcomed me. It was one of the perks of having a rich mother, but I settled for the smallest place she would allow. She meant well. I just didn’t need all of this fluff. I needed the simplicity of the country, but I chose to leave six years ago. I ran away from what I couldn’t ever have. I had it last night, and it apparently wouldn’t happen again.
After retrieving my mail, I waited for the elevator, staring at my shiny bronze reflection on the closed doors. Wearing my trusty white pea coat and knee-high black leather boots, I appeared put together, even though inside, I was falling apart. The ding of the elevator alerted me of its arrival, and as I readied myself to enter, yummy apartment three-twenty-one stepped out in his Armani suit. His dark hair was slicked back, and his brown eyes warmed my bruised heart. I did feel a little pull to this guy, but he wasn’t quite what I wanted. I thought a Stetson would look silly on top of his slicked-back hair.
“Ellie, you’re back.” He stepped off the elevator and kissed my cheek.
“Well, hey, Gianni. How are ya?” His cheeks lifted a bit, as if he were holding in a laugh. I tilted my head, wrinkling my brow in confusion.
“You definitely visited the south. Nice little accent there, belle,” he mocked.
I shook my head with an exaggerated eye roll as I scooted passed him and stepped into the elevator.
“Have a good evening, Gianni.” I forced a smile, not allowing anyone to see the ache consuming me.
I pressed the button to my floor, and as the doors were closing, Gianni squeezed his hand in between, causing the doors to open again. I stared at him in wonder. He rested his hands on either side of the elevator doors, holding them open. He leaned slightly inside of the car, allowing me to get lost in his scent, and I stared into the twinkle of his mocha eyes.
“So, when are you going to have dinner with me?”
My jaw slacked at his question. I clenched it shut, hoping that he didn’t notice my shock. We had always been friendly, maybe on the flirty side of friendly, but I had never expected he wanted more. My blinders were always up around other men. If it wasn’t Paul, then it took me some time to notice them back, which meant that I really didn’t notice anyone. I wanted the cowboy, but the suit was asking me out. I hadn’t heard from the cowboy since I left him naked in the bed where he’d given me multiple orgasms.
Friends, right?
Paul’s words echoed in my mind, and I took that as my queue to leave the country in my past.
“I don’t remember you ever asking me.”
His eyes brightened, giving him away. “How’s tomorrow night?”
I ran through tomorrow in my head. I wouldn’t have to be back to my internship until the next week, and besides lunch with my mother, I was free.
“Pick me up at seven?”
He graced me with a wink as he backed away from the elevator. “See you then, belle.”
The elevators closed between us and my shoulders sagged. My smile fell as my tired eyes stared back at me in the reflection of the bronze doors. Would Gianni just be another one of those men that I dated to fill the void? My brain screamed on the ride up to the fifth floor. Why did I have to be hopelessly in love with the one man who wouldn’t let me?
The elevator dinged at my floor and I sighed as I attempted to pick my head up. I pulled my carry-on bag behind me down the carpeted hallway and unlocked my door. The dark entryway welcomed me to my current life as I tried to forget the man that I unwillingly left behind. I shrugged as I turned on a light. It was time to move on.
• • •
The lights of Manhattan warmed me as I gazed out onto Park Avenue. I sipped from a mug of hot tea as I turned away from the landscape I loved; it just wasn’t the landscape I wanted. I placed my mug on the table nestled beside an armchair that reflected the colors of my apartment. Rich purple and red accents scattered around the ord
inary furniture that came with the one bedroom and bath unit. All of the lights were out except for my one reading lamp. I crossed the few steps to my bookshelf next to my television and grabbed a book with the hope that the story would whisk me away into the problematic lives of others. Of course, a night of Fitzwilliam Darcy never hurt anyone.
Just as I had settled in and succumbed to the life of Elizabeth Bennet, my phone beeped. Hope fluttered in my heart as I stared at my phone resting on the kitchen table. Eagerness passed through me. I pondered bouncing up and running to my phone or giving it a minute in case it was my mother. It was more than likely my mother.
I rolled my eyes at my hopelessness as I tossed off my blanket and padded over the carpeted floor to the kitchen. I tapped the button on my phone, illuminating the screen, and peered over it to inspect the text.
My arms were cold this morning when you snuck off. When do you return?
My heart jumped into my throat, my hand shaking as it covered my mouth. Maybe what he said was real. Was all of it real? I bit my lip to withhold my smile, forcing myself not to become too happy yet. If anything were to happen, it was going to take time. I knew he couldn’t fully give himself to me. I needed his heart. If I even had a shot, I had to play this a certain way. It was the only way not to crumble into pieces when he chose to move on.
I picked up my phone and tried to convey a flirty stance without showing my whole heart.
Miss me already, sweetheart? ;-)
After I pressed send, I covered my eyes in embarrassment, knowing that “Miss me already, sweetheart?” probably wasn’t the best thing to say, but hell if I knew what to say. How did one have a friends-with-benefits relationship without seeing each other? This was most definitely a disaster waiting to happen.
