by B. L. Berry
“I’m not really sure there’s much to tell.”
“There is always a story to tell. Did you grow a pair and hunt him down to talk?”
She knows me far too well. I am never the first one to make a move. I have always subscribed to the theory that if a man wants you, he needs to get up off of his ass and come and get you. A good theory to have if you ask me.
I take a sip of my coffee and recall the way he smelled when he first approached me, like fresh soap and old leather.
“Actually no. He had caught my eye earlier in the night when he was hanging out with some friends and I was dancing with Alex and a few of the girls from his work. We passed looks back and forth across the bar half the night and I thought that was it. When I saw some of the guys in his group leave, I just assumed he took off with them, so I was quite surprised when he came up to me while I was waiting for a drink at the bar.”
“And what did he say?”
“Well, he strutted over, reached out to shake my hand,” I softly laugh to myself recalling the cheesy sincerity of the moment, “and asked ‘would you mind holding this while I go for a walk?’”
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me! You fell for that shit?” Olivia practically yells.
“Shhh …” The barista gives us an evil glare from behind the bar. I feel my face flash crimson. “It was kind of sweet. Besides, he’s a really nice guy.” My cheeks hurt from smiling.
“Oh, shut up! My ninety-two year old great grandpa is a really nice guy. Tell me what happened. Spare no details.” Olivia leans over the table on her elbows, practically begging.
I really don’t know what to say to avoid triggering a rousing game of one hundred and one questions. The instant he touched my hand, he flipped a switch inside of me that nobody else had been able to find. It’s not love. It’s more chemistry than anything else. But damn, if this is lust I’ll take another hit of that awesomeness. But telling her that will only lead to more questions and her long-winded spiel about how maybe this guy is the guy to help me move on from Jason. And frankly, there’s not enough coffee in the world to prepare me for that kind of inquisition.
I shrug and take a sip from my mug. “So we left the bar and went for a walk.”
Olivia hits both her hands flat on the table in disbelief. “Let me get this straight. A random guy — who just so happens to be hotter than the devil dancing on the sun — comes up to you at a bar, grabs your hand, and you ditch your very bestest friend without even saying a word to go on a walk?”
Well, when she says it like that it does sound absolutely ridiculous, and very unlike me. “First of all, I didn’t ditch you. You found yourself an Usher look-alike to buy you drinks and tell you you’re pretty. You left me alone, so don’t go off making me to be the bad guy. Secondly, I texted you to let you know I was safe. And third, we ended up at my place. I sleep with a baseball bat under my bed.”
Olivia scolds me with a single glare. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to talk to strangers?”
I laugh. My mother taught me a lot of things. Like how to be subservient to a man’s wishes and be the perfect little homemaker. I love my mom dearly, but her approach to marriage was always a little antiquated. When things fell apart with Jason, I was devastated, but a small part of me felt she was more upset than I was and not because I was the one who ended up hurt. Rather, she was mourning the loss of me becoming her. Hindsight is twenty-twenty, I suppose. It was my grandmother who gave me the bit of advice that has stuck with me after all these years. She said, “Don’t trust everything you see, Elyse. Even salt looks like sugar.”
“All I’m saying is it sounds like you’re walking right into a serial killer’s master plan in some B-rated horror flick. Girl meets boy. Girl takes boy back to her apartment. Boy skins girl and wears her body down Michigan Avenue like a fabulous leather coat.”
I smile … I mean really smile. Olivia gives me a questioning look.
“You are absolutely ridiculous.” I wave her concern off with the flick of my wrist though I know she’s right. I do need to be a little more careful about who I invite into my home.
But right from the start things felt different with him. We walked along the lakefront path with the pale moonlight reflecting off the water. The conversation came all too easily, like our souls knew each other in another lifetime. Plus, he could make me laugh. And not the polite kind of laughter you give softly after a joke that wasn’t really that funny. This laughter was of the belly-aching, snort-inducing variety.
When we finally made it back to my apartment, we took our time and savored every last touch. This wasn’t just another wild drunken rouse, not that I was wasted or anything. Rather, it was passionate and carnal and five hundred million degrees of hot. Just thinking about it brings a flash of heat between my legs which means my crotch has been on fire since he walked out the door more than twenty-four hours ago.
That was the moment I felt the possibility of it all.
Olivia must be able to read my mind because her jaw drops and her eyes turn narrow. “Do you … Do you have a thing for this guy?” The shock resolutes all the way through her eyes.
Shit.
“No,” I say unconvincingly.
“You, no doubt, lie in bed with a guy significantly better than you lie with your words.”
I snort. “That literally makes zero sense. Don’t make me get all grammar police on your ass.”
“Whatever, bitch. You know what I mean. Besides, it’s true. You’re a terrible liar and I can only assume a great lay.”
I blush at her words and feel like a stupid, giddy schoolgirl whose crush just asked her to prom. I’ve faked my smile for so long I can hardly believe the one I wear now is real. It’s the kind of smile that begins buried deep inside and radiates through, lighting the dark. And Simon is the one who sparked that internal flame.
“Well, shit! Maybe he’ll be the one to end your streak of randoms?”
Maybe. But I’ll never admit that aloud, so instead, I smirk and simply shrug my shoulders.
“You never did tell me his name.”
“Simon. His name is Simon.”
“And what does Simon do for a living?” The way she emphasizes his name sends a stampede through my system and I shift my eyes to the floor. “You have no idea, do you?”
“Well … I know he’s a writer…”
Olivia looks at me in disapproval. “That’s vague.”
“What? We didn’t do much talking.”
“Elyse!”
“If you had seen him, you would have let your body do all the talking, too. Trust me on that.” I blush at the admission. “But if it makes you feel any better, he writes for travel magazines.”
“Ooooh, that sounds sexy. Maybe he’ll whisk you away to some remote exotic island. You could explore all of the ins and outs of private beaches if ya catch my drift.”
I never thought there was anything sexy about writers. As a writer myself, I know that most of the time we’re working in the company of our imagination. And when you’re under deadline, hygiene is totally optional. But when Olivia puts it that way, it does kind of sound sexy.
“So what else is new?” I swat Olivia’s hand away as she tries to steal the last bite of my muffin.
“I ran into Alex yesterday at the grocery store. He was in a mood. I don’t know why he just doesn’t ditch that wretched girlfriend of his. Why didn’t you and Phinney ever hook up? I always thought you two would make a cute pair.” Apparently the discussion of my love life isn’t over like I had thought. She asks the million dollar question I’ve often asked myself, and one I don’t have a good answer for.
“I don’t know. Maybe once upon a time Alex Phinney and I could have been something great, but life always seemed to have other plans for me. For us, really. I had Jason, and Alex had his flavor of the month. I always thought he could be interested, but he never came out directly and said anything.”
I shrug off the thought of both guys and allow
my mind to drift toward the memory of Simon’s touch. The thought of his lips trailing down my neck sends heat straight to my core. How soon could I see him again?
“But you had a thing for him, right?”
“With a body like his and a smile that dropped panties, who didn’t have a thing for Alex?” I shoot Olivia a pointed look and she blushes instantly, knowing my insinuation. The better part of her early twenties was spent secretly pining over him. I laugh and shake my head at her. “But yeah, I’ve always had a little thing for him. Especially after Jason and I split. He was so good to me through that mess.” I sigh heavily, blowing the hair out from my face in the process. For far too long, some microscopic part of me held a silent flame that Jason and I could work things out.
“Mess is an understatement.”
“I know. When we broke up, I thought about asking Alex out. But I knew that if I ever crossed a line with him, there would absolutely be no way Jason and I would get back together.” Not that I’d want to now.
“Ugh. Build a bridge and get over it, El. You need to stop being so damn loyal to the pain of your past.”
“I know. I am over it now.” Kind of. “Even so, it would have been too weird, him being Jason’s cousin and all. That would break some kind of guy code.”
“Fuck guy code. The shit he pulled over on you makes any kind of guy code null and void. Besides, I’ve seen the way Alex looks at you with his gooey puppy dog eyes.” Olivia smirks and bats her eyelashes at me.
Whatever. He looks that way at anything with boobs and legs. “It’s neither here nor there. There’s a reason why things never worked out with Alex and—”
“And your stubbornness is not a reason!” she interjects.
“And now I have Simon.” My voice is matter of fact and my heart soars at the sound of his name rolling off my tongue.
“So you think he’s it? The fairytale you’ve been waiting for?”
“I don’t know, but I’m hopeful. Simon’s different.” There’s no hiding the skepticism in my voice. But I at least owe myself the chance to see if anything could come to fruition with this man.
“Moving on! I’m tired of talking about you,” Olivia jokes as she claps her hands together, finally bored with talking about me. “I’ve finally figured out what I’m going to do with my life.”
It’s about damn time.
“Oh? And what’s that?” Olivia has never been career-oriented. Before she started at Brainspin Boutique, she would change jobs more frequently than she’d change her underwear. She once quit her barista job after only ninety minutes of being on the clock because the apron was — and I quote — not cute enough. So the fact Olivia thinks she finally knows what she wants to be when she grows up is a little amusing.
“I’m going to start my own business called The Wine Wagon. Early in the evening, I’m going to drive a wine truck all through suburbia, blasting angry chick music and watching the desperate housewives flock into their front yards, chasing me down as they wave twenties in the air. They can escape the dramas of their day, their husbands, their children and whatever other bullshit they’re dealing with and just have a glass of vino. It’s like an ice cream truck except there’s wine, so my idea is infinitely better.”
“That actually might be the best idea you’ve ever had.” I smile proudly.
“I know, right?” The compliment goes straight to her head. “What about you? Have you given any more thought about going back to school?”
I shut my eyes tightly and groan. My LSAT scores are only good for another year, but I can’t bring myself to enlist for a lifetime of misery by taking over my father’s law firm. Even though I practically aced the exam, I’m not sure that being a lawyer is the right gig for me. But I’m not sure advertising is either. Jason always had opinions otherwise, which is probably why I’m so vehemently against going to law school.
“No,” I lie. I’ve given it a lot of thought if I’m being honest with myself. “I like the creative side of life and being a copywriter plays to my strengths. I can’t imagine spending my days researching and writing legal briefs.”
“But you spend your days writing silly slogans and magazine ads that nobody reads.”
I sigh, knowing she’s right. I take the last lukewarm sip of coffee and shudder at all the syrup that has built up at the bottom of the cup.
“It’s just advertising, Olivia. It’s not brain surgery. In the grand scheme of things, what I’m doing now isn’t meaningful when you really think about it.”
“All I’m saying is if you’re going to spend your days researching and writing, you may as well do it for a better price tag.”
“And that grass is probably greener because it’s fertilized with a bunch of shit.”
The only thing I really want out of my career is to change the course of just one person’s life for the better. If I can do that, then I know I’ll be happy.
Olivia snorts at my comment and shakes her head. “You are ever the optimist, my dear friend.”
I push back from the table and grab my coffee cup. “Come on. We need to head back. Some of us actually have work to do today.”
Three
Special Delivery
When we get back to the office, Jamie is sitting at the front desk where Olivia should be. Jamie is one of the agency’s junior-level account managers. She’s here because her daddy knows someone who knows someone and she needed a job after college. She’s held the same title for the past three years and is nothing but skin and bones draped in designer knock-offs. She tries to pass herself off as being high-fashion and nobody has the heart to tell her that the Addams Family morgue look isn’t very becoming on her. Usually she wears nothing but black and a permanent scowl on her face, but for some reason she looks unusually happy today.
“It’s not your birthday, is it, Elyse?”
“No … why?”
“Because a stunningly handsome man dropped off a rather large bouquet of flowers for you shortly after you left. I took the liberty of dropping them off on your desk.”
Oh. Well, this is new. No one has ever given me flowers at work. Jason was certainly never that thoughtful. And the only time my parents ever send flowers is on my birthday … and those are always sent to my apartment.
“Thanks, Jamie. Let me know if I owe you anything for tipping him.”
Jamie shifts in her chair and sighs heavily before looking out the window in avoidance.
She didn’t tip him. Cheap ass.
When she finally looks back at me, her voice is defensive. “What? He wasn’t a delivery guy, I can tell you that much.”
I cock an eyebrow, imploring her for more details.
“Delivery guys don’t wear three piece suits,” she clips with an edge in her tone. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll get back to my job so Olivia can actually do hers and man the front desk.”
And there it is again. The famous Jamie scowl. It’s her way of letting me know that I’m clearly inconveniencing her. In dramatic fanfare, she pushes herself away from Olivia’s station at the front desk and walks down the hallway to get back to work.
“Well, she’s a delight today.” Olivia rolls her eyes then pulls at my arm. “Come on … let’s see who it’s from.” She follows me back to my desk, leaving the front lobby unmanned.
The site of the bouquet takes me breath away. Sprigs of lavender and green hydrangeas are tucked in the open pockets amid ballerina pink and bold fuchsia peonies. The bouquet is so artfully arranged, it looks like Martha Stewart herself designed it.
“Wow.” Olivia reaches out and runs her fingertips over the delicate flowers. “He spent a fortune on you, El.”
“You don’t even know if it’s from him.”
She laughs under her breath. “With that shit eating grin on your face, you and I both know exactly who it’s from.”
She’s right. And not that money matters, but this is one lavish bouquet. “Do you see a card?” I turn the vase around as Olivia plucks out a tiny whi
te envelope that was hidden inside.
“Give me that!” I try to snatch it from her hands, but she turns and slides the card out, clearing her throat.
“Not nearly as lovely as you. Simon.”
I swoon.
Olivia swoons.
And everyone within earshot of us swoons.
I snag the card from Olivia’s fingers and read it again, ignoring the rising questions from my coworkers.
“This all seems a little too perfect. What’s wrong with him?” Olivia asks, making her suspicions no secret. And with how I’ve treated myself with guys over the past year, I can’t blame her. But Simon is different. And furthermore, he makes me feel different.
I look at her, shocked at her insinuation. “There’s nothing wrong with him, Olivia. You can’t just assume the worst.”
“Oh, honey … You’re naive if you assume the best. There is something wrong with every guy. Some are just better at hiding it than others.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” I reach into my purse and grab my phone to call and thank him for the beautiful arrangement. While unnecessary, the gesture has made me feel appreciated for the first time since … well, I don’t know when. And even though I barely know him, this gesture alone gives me hope and makes me feel like I am finally getting what I deserve.
“Okay, so maybe there’s not anything wrong with him. But perhaps you shouldn’t call him just yet.” Olivia snatches the phone from my hands and looks at me with complete seriousness. “You know, keep him guessing?”
I smile and shake my head. “I’ve had my share of guessing games. I’m not about to start playing any with this guy.”
I reach out to take my phone back and Olivia puts her hands on her hips. “All I’m saying is maybe you should wait a while? See other people. Maybe get married, adopt a dog, buy a house with a white picket fence and pop out two point five kids. No need to be so quick to see him again.”
I laugh and turn my back to her, searching my phone for Simon’s number. With a steadying breath, I push the green send button and wait. But I don’t wait for long. He answers after only one ring.
