Heartburn

by M. C. Cerny

  “You planning to grow a man-gina over here?” Damien clapped me on the back hunkering down next to me at the bar.

  “Only if you do first.” I said as he laughed good naturedly. Hunter followed in behind him, his ear plastered to his phone.

  “What’s up with Hunt?” He gave us a gesture to say he needed a minute, but I had feeling he was about to disappear for much longer.

  “Eh, ignore him. He’s got Taylor Jane on the brain. We mere mortals made of flesh and bone are no longer important compared to his lady love.” He flung his arms out dramatically and I pushed him back forcing him to sit down. Damien could wax poetic all night in his solo show, I had no desire to be a part of it as he waved at Remi. She nodded dropping off his favorite beer.

  “Thanks Ginger.” He smiled at her and while we all knew how harmless Damien was, he was bound to get his ass kicked for flirting.

  “Hey, that’s not her name fuck face.” Hunter the consummate protector gave Damien a less than brotherly thump on the back while Damien ignored him winking at our barmaid.

  “See,” he took a swig of his beer motioning at me as if to say, ‘I told you so.’

  I shrugged watching them.

  “I don’t think Remi minds.” I pointed out how her attention was already drawn to the football players crowding inside Easton’s.

  “Well, I do.” Hunter grumbled.

  “That’s a shit show ever there.” Damien muttered acknowledging the rowdy crowd. Ah, memories. I’m sure there was a time we were the rowdy crowd instead of three grown men sitting at the bar by ourselves reminiscing.

  “Call her by her name respectfully and I’ll let you try procreating in about twenty years from now when your balls drop and you finally grow up.” Hunter takes his beer from Remi who swayed between tables filling up drink requests.

  “So what’s going on?” Hunter asked diverting us back to the topic of why I texted them to meet me.

  “Feels like a regular church lady sewing circle.” Damien stared at the football players intently and I swore if he got us into a bar fight I’d let our cop friend Evan arrest his ass with zero bail and call it a night.

  Hunter chuffed letting his own southern roots show. “You ain’t never stepped inside a church and if you did the good lord would’ve struck you with lightening by now.”

  Damien ignored his cousin and turned himself on the bar stool to address me. “Why did you invite us tonight?” He thumbed in Hunter’s direction, “Because that man is killing my buzz right now.”

  “Just trying to figure out what I should do about this girl I met.”

  Damien shook his head muttering man-gina finishing off his beer while I gave Hunter the backstory. I told them basically everything except the gooey sweet s’more moments by the fire. That was a visual for my personal collection only.

  “Well, if there’s anything I learned, it’s that you don’t let a good one get away.”

  I let that sink in for a moment.

  “She have a sister?” Of course Damien would ask that, unmitigated idiot he was.

  “Yes, and no, you’re never meeting my woodland pixie.”

  “Oh it’s like that, is it.” Damien snickered.

  I groused back. “I think the sister lives in Brooklyn and you are not fucking this up for me.”

  “So unfair.” He slapped his hands on the bar exasperated. “I bang one chick who happens to be related and y’all freak the fuck out.” Damien made it sound like he’d gotten a speeding ticket or lost his favorite ballcap.

  Hunter went full thermonuclear and I couldn’t blame the guy. Most people went ballistic trying to keep up with Damien. I wanted to say that was part of his charm, but I’d be lying.

  “Damien, a second cousin twice removed, is still a second cousin no matter how far removed.” Hunter shook his head and I cringed trying desperately to scrub my mind from imagining any of that happening.

  “I think I’m going to be sick.” I muttered.

  Hunter clapped me on the back commiserating.

  “You see what I had to live with. This is why I had to build my own house to escape.”

  Damien drifted off speaking. “She definitely knew a few tricks with her tongue I wasn’t prepared for.”

  Both Hunter and I took a moment to digest that before scrunching our faces up all disgusted. “Yeah, drink more of that beer in your hand. Wash the taste out.” Hunter tipped his own beer back and I followed the same. We waved at Remi to bring us new ones. Not enough alcohol in this bar to kill those cooties.

  “Ah come on guys, how was I supposed to know that we were related–distantly, I might add?”

  “Seriously?” Hunter slammed his beer down eyeballing Damien like he wanted to set him on fire. Couldn’t say I blamed the guy either.

  Damien shrugged non-pulsed like the conversation was long over. I had an inkling Hunter disagreed.

  “We were at a damn family reunion in Alabama.” Yup. He definitely did not agree. Hunter’s face wore exhaustion well when it came to trying to figure out Damien.

  “Halley Sue…” Damien mused between sipping his beer. “She sure knew how to welcome a guy. That was some sweet home Alabama stuff right there.”

  Hunter growled standing up and I got in between them before we got kicked out of the only bar we considered a home away from home. I doubted Andy and David would appreciate us breaking up the joint since they weren’t finished with the remodeling.

  “Okay, alright.” I put my hand on Hunter’s chest urging him to sit back down. Nobody liked a poked bear and he could go atomic if I let this go.

  Hunter pointed at him with his beer enunciating each word out of his mouth. “Shut your fucking mouth about Halley Sue.”

  “Easy big guy. No need to pop an artery before you get home to Taylor.” I patted his shoulder attempting to distract him.

  “Or bust a nut. Geez, Hunt.” Damien shook his head and I didn’t know if this was Damien being stupid or Damien just being his typical Damien self.

  “Let it go guys.” I urged them keeping my eyes on both of them.

  Damien didn’t seem inclined to listen, as usual and pressed, “So isn’t she more related to you on your mom’s side?”

  “Second. Fucking. Cousins.” Hunter groused draining his beer.

  “The kissing kind apparently.” I nudged Damien. They made me laugh thinking that maybe my problems weren’t nearly as complicated as I was making them out to be. Damien kept up his dramatics. It was a wonder he played football with us instead of trying out for the theater troupe in high school.

  Hunter rolled his eyes. “Damn Southerners.”

  “What’s the south got to do with this? You got something against grits?” It was hard to imagine Damien looking indigent, but he did.

  “Technically you’re a Yankee.” I tried to clarify.

  “No.” Damien shook his head. “I’m a Red Sox fan, but don’t tell my dad. He’ll just bitch when he buys tickets for the games.”

  “Damien…” I started to correct him, but Hunter grabbed my arm shaking his head no. He was right; this was probably not an argument worth having with Damien. Wasn’t there a stereotype about blonds? Too bad Damien was as brunette as they came. He was blowing all the molds tonight, and I wasn’t going to get any answers or clarity here playing referee between these two.

  “Always have to be the smartass don’t you?” Hunter accepted a plate of appetizers from Remi and shoved a mozzarella stick in his mouth. She brought tall glasses of ice water and quietly slipped away. I didn’t blame her, I wanted out of there too.

  “Deep throat that too, Hunt. I can go all night on this.” Damien challenged drawling out the all night as if he was southern himself, and that was my cue to go.

  Uh…look guys, that’s great, but you know what, I’m gonna go.” I waved to Andy so I could settle up my bar tab. He waved back like my money wasn’t any good with him.

  “So we’re not even going to talk about chicks?” Damien actually looked upset by
this and I wasn’t kissing and telling.

  “No, we’re not idiot.” Hunter jabbed him hard making him grunt.

  “Pussy whipped.” He grumbled dodging a deserved whack from his cousin in the back of his head.

  Hunter took a long drag of his beer finishing it before speaking, “You should probably go and talk to her. That usually works.”

  Sure because the way I had left things with her worked out so well.

  “I don’t know. She’s–” What would I have said? Younger? A college student? Impulsive? None of it sounded good on the surface, but they didn’t know her. Not that I knew her well either, but watching Ryder West across the bar I knew I definitely didn’t want her near that jackass. The man looked like he was trying to convince a girl of water in the desert, namely, him. He was no oasis that’s for sure, just another cocky asshole.

  “Talk, man. It sucks but girls relate to that. Be honest.” Far be it from Hunter to have the pearls of wisdom tonight.

  “Were we helpful?” Damien appeared genuinely thoughtful chewing on a mozzarella stick and my eyes squeezed shut attempting to block out whatever the hell the last hour consisted. I tried to answer as nicely as possible, but failed when Hunter smiled shaking his head no. This wasn’t worth the argument.

  So I lied.

  “Great man,” I clasped Damien’s shoulder. “Glad we had this talk.”

  “Let me know if you want to shoot pool next time and we’ll leave this D-bag at home nursing his dateless wounds from the ones that escaped,” Hunter pointed at Damien who grunted.

  “Yeah well, next time we can leave Groucho here at home with his nachos.” Damien thumbed in Hunter’s direction.

  “Sounds good Blue.” I teased Damien one last time and left Hunter howling with laughter.

  Damien slammed his beer down. “Always gotta bring that shit up, don’t ya?” The image of Damien covered in blue gunk would always make me smile. If he ever got his shit straightened out he’d have a hell of a time taming the one who made him that way.

  “Literally, D. Fucking blue.” Hunter sung the last part out of tune snorting.

  I smiled letting the door go as I walked out of Easton’s Pub no closer to figuring out what to do except knowing that I needed to see her again one last time. If anything, closure might help.

  13

  Lia

  Incessant knocking at my door forced me to drop the spoon I’d been licking to peek around the corner from my bedroom. I glared at the hardwood frame wondering if Dinah forgot her key…again. It figured. My gorgeous roommate could get any guy she wanted batting her eyelashes, notes for class with bated breath, but she couldn’t remember to keep a fringing key on her keychain because she was always locking herself out.

  Huffing my annoyance, I walked around the corner dropping my pint of cheap ice cream by the couch. I planned on studying for my Humanities exam when I finished stuffing my face with fudgy calories. Instead, I was flinging the door open expecting a giggling blonde and her next conquest at the door.

  Shock covered my surprise when I realized it was my Boy Scout standing in front of me. “Whit? What are you doing here?” I stood there mouth gapping probably collecting flies as he barreled his way inside looking a bit disheveled and worried. Tight flannel stretched across his shoulders while those damn cargo pants outlined every delicious man curve I fondly remembered squeezing as he thrust inside me. I swallowed back my interest and shifted on my feet feeling my arousal riot over me in a hot flash I swore I was too young to have.

  Fanning myself I questioned, Whit?” He paced my apartment making the space shrink with his presence. Something seemed off. This wasn’t my tough guy from the woods. He seemed squirrelly.

  It was then I permitted myself to realize how much I’d missed him as soon as the pine and musk trail permeated my apartment, making my lower belly clench. I’d been subjected to watching my roommate and the player get cozy and then break up, on again and off again when the itch became unbearable. Everything became so disposable and I knew that wasn’t what I’d been looking for.

  I’d missed Whit.

  Like…genuinely missed him the way one misses the other half of a stolen candy bar. I whimpered remembering the last time I tasted his lips on mine.

  Almost reading my mind verbatim, he said, “I don’t like how we left things.” His eyes darted, slightly panicked as he looked around like he was hunting for something and started stalking back and forth, ready to wear out my living room carpet before heading into my sad little kitchen.

  “There’s no one here but me, Whittaker.” I realized he was looking for something and annoyed, I crossed my arms. “Dinah is at work right now.” He nodded and his shoulders rolled as if that maybe answered about half the questions he had for me in that moment.

  “You still live with her?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I forgave her. It’s kind of hard to find a new roommate mid-semester.” Closing the door, I eyed him waiting for a follow up statement. Something along the lines of: I want you, I need you, can we date casually, those would have been nice places to start.

  “We have some unfinished business.”

  Indeed we did, but that didn’t specify what he was doing at my apartment stomping through rooms. I was waiting for the downstairs neighbor to pound on the floor again.

  “How did you even find me? Kinda stalkerish. I don’t have any bear bells or pepper spray on me.”

  “Jeff.” He said waving his hand at my raised eyebrows. “He’s my supervisor and took the original report.”

  Well, that answered some things.

  “And Jeff just gives out this information willy-nilly?” I picked up the pint of ice cream and leaned against the wall resuming my party for one while he continued to ramble through his explanation. Hey, two could play this game and I lived here so I had nowhere to go and plenty of time to kill.

  I licked the spoon obscenely like this was all casual considering that how we left things last time. Whit stopped his pacing to narrow his gaze on me.

  His mouth fished open and closed before he blurted. “So you’re not dating anyone?” He fidgeted before putting his hands deep in the pockets of his cargo pants. He spun around giving me a bird’s eye view of his tight ass and I spooned up another cool bite of double fudge brownie making my way to the couch.

  That was a mistake because I gave myself an ice cream headache and grunted through a frozen mouth. “What are you talking about?”

  Whit continued with this slightly feral look of a man on a mission. I reached for a throw pillow off my couch needing something physical between us wearing nothing but a tank top and matching boy shorts. The poof of down filled feathers was my only protection, paltry and worthless as it was between a fit and furious male.

  Hello, Mr. Apex Predator.

  “Back at the cabin. You said this was a one-time deal. Right?” He stood before me, pulling some kind of alpha shit on me and if he weren’t so vulnerable and serious looking I might have giggled watching him struggle to work this all out in his mind.

  I hugged my pillow.

  “Yeah, because isn’t that what you wanted?” My heart skipped a beat, I said it then at the cabin thinking that’s what he wanted…but maybe I was wrong.

  Whit leaned over the couch bracing his arms on the edge. His breath warmed the goosebumps on my arms. “Lia, if that’s what I wanted, then why do I keep thinking about you? Being inside you bare and craving the soft feel of your hair in my hands. You’re driving me crazy.”

  He resumed pacing squeezing his hands into fists. Part of me wanted those hands on me and I felt dizzy thinking he might grab me and shake me to make his point. I did a lot of thinking since then and pressed my thighs together to distract me from what I missed since I saw him last.

  “Um, sorry? Maybe you could just sit down? Maybe slow down too?” He looked back and I decided to let him run circles in the apartment if that made him happy. What the hell did I know anyway about the male species in their natural enviro
nment? My Anthropology 101 course hadn’t covered this yet. He resumed pacing and I waited for him to say something more.

  “You. Drive. Me. Crazy.” He tracked around the apartment to stand in front of me again finally grabbing me by my arms pulling me up into his embrace. His warm hands were rough against my barely clothed body and the pillow between us dropped to the floor.

  “Thank you?” As far as compliments went, I was hardly impressed.

  “Fucking crazy, Amelia.” Those deep blue eyes zeroed in building a pressure inside me. The intensity felt like a cork of champagne at New Year’s on the verge of popping the way he held me captivated silencing everything around me.

  I poked him in the stomach and he made a forced sound. “You. Make. Me. Dizzy.” Overwhelmed was an understatement.

  “You were right, though,” he muttered, pulling me closer until the air in my chest compressed and I had to push him back to ease up so I could catch my breath.

  “About what?”

  “If I told you, I’d probably scare you.” He was scaring me now not telling me.

  “Tell me.” I whispered looking up into his eyes.

  He shook his head like he was shaking shower water from his hair. He didn’t answer my question and instead asked another of his own. “Why did you brush me off that morning when I brought you back to your friends’ campsite?”

  Unexpected, but worth exploration. What had I been thinking that morning. A little of everything unsure in the light of the day.

  “I guess I was trying to not be one of those desperate clingy girls after sleeping with you within hours of meeting you. I didn’t want to be that girl.” I couldn’t stop the wince in my voice.

  I was that girl.

  Sooo that girl.

  Seeing Whit in front of me like this, however, I didn’t want to admit those words more than once, ever again.

  “I don’t see you that way. I see a girl who met a shitty guy who needs his eyes examined and a football shoved up his ass.”

  “Oh…okay awkward…charming maybe and…uh, a little sweet?”