by Ava Alise
I glance up at Teeth, smirk, grab my menu, and begin to mull it over. He does the same. About halfway through the sushi menu, my phone vibrates, and my heart stops.
Oh shit… what if it’s Sean! No, it’s probably Ros checking in on me. But really, what if it is Sean?
I place my hand on my purse, then stop.
If it is Sean that text could ruin my whole night; I can’t check it, at least not now… Shit, does Teeth see me being all dingy and indecisive? I bet I look crazy because I know he had to hear my phone vibrate too.
Casually, I glance up at him; he looks like he’s focused on the menu though, so maybe he didn’t notice.
“So, what do you do? Your car is really nice,” I ask after a beat.
Okay, I can’t kick this drug dealer thing, I have to know… And my bullshit radar never fails.
The waiter interrupts us again to take our dinner orders, then leaves after refilling our drinks.
“I work as an auto mechanic. What do you do?”
I instinctively look down at his hands.
Kind of pretty for a mechanic. Hmmm.
“I’m a student, second year at the community college. I’ll be transferring to Emory to finish my bachelors in Communication. I usually get through the year with my financial aid and money I save from summer jobs. My parents help out sometimes too if I need it.”
“Sounds great. Good field.”
“Yep,” I smile, “are you in school?”
“No, not anymore. I started a bachelor program in Business Management, but as my son started getting older his mother stopped helping out,” he says with a huff. “So, I care for my son during the week and work on the weekends.”
I nod. “Oh,” and my eyes slide down to his hands again briefly before I pick up the drinks menu.
Okay, so my bullshit radar says he’s lying about this auto mechanic thing. His nails are too clean, and his hands are callus free. My uncle worked in a body shop for thirty years; I know the beating hands take in that field. But I guess that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s a drug dealer; maybe his family has money or something? Or… maybe he sells crack. Oh god!
After a beat he asks, “See anything you want?”
“Uh…” I flip through the pages again, nearly knocking over my glass.
“I mean, after dinner we can hit the bar up the street if you want, grab a drink and maybe I can get a sober dance out of you.”
“Funny! Yeah, that sounds cool.” I say, trying to relax.
It isn’t long before our waiter brings our dinner to the table and we make small talk. I learn that he is twenty-two, has a three-year-old son, older twin siblings, and that he and his ex-girlfriend split over two years ago. He tells me about his home with his son, the house with the crazy ass roommates, and that he grew up on Tybee Beach, a few hours away. Eventually, he asks me about my divorce. I blow through the story, attempting to play it off as being young, dumb, and rebellious. I, of course, don’t mention anything about how the marriage ended.
About forty minutes later, we pull up to a bar called Shooters and head inside, the music is so loud the ground outside vibrates.
He places a hand on my lower back as we walk in and head straight to the bar.
“I’m going to run to the Ladies’ room, be right back,” I tell him, leaning in close enough so he can hear me.
Damn, he smells so good.
“What you want to drink…wait don’t tell me….Vodka lemon mixer, right,” he says with that perfect smile.
This makes me smile.
“Yes.”
I make my way through the crowd of people dancing and head straight to the bathroom. Inside, the music is muffled, and I figure it’s a good time to call Ros to let her know I’m okay. Anytime we go out with someone new, we check in with each other. Tank insists we sneak a snapshot of the license tag and send it to him. Ros and I both are really close to Tank. He’s grown to be like our best friend, creating a crazy trio. He was actually Grayson’s best friend, and since Grayson and I dated most of high school, Tank came as a package deal.
Anyway, as much it annoys Tank, we don’t snap pictures of the license tags, but we do make sure we call and check in at least once during a first date. All of this may seem a bit much, but we have a good reason. It started a few years ago when Ros went out with a guy she met at the library. That asshole took her out to dinner and when she refused to kiss him, he decided he wouldn’t take her home. Instead, he drove her around for an hour bitching about how all women are teases and gold diggers. Ros was terrified, and since then we have taken extra precautions when hanging out with a guy for the first time.
Tank has been out of town for the last week, so I decide to call Ros instead. But that means… I’ll have to look at my phone.
Pulling my phone out of my clutch, I curse as I realize my lock screen still has the picture of me and Sean.
I really need to change it; I just haven’t been able to bring myself to do it yet.
My phone displays ‘1 NEW TEXT’ after I unlock it, but I decide to bypass my messages altogether, being sure not to view who the text was from, and I pull up my contacts to call Ros.
“Hey, girl, where are you?” Ros says when she picks up the phone.
“I’m at a bar called Shooters on 25th Street.”
“Okay, so are you having fun?”
“Yeah, I am actually.” I feel myself smile. “We went to eat at Suko, and now we’re stopping to grab a drink. Are you still out with Kevin?”
“No, I’m home,” she sighs. “We got into a big fight, and I made him bring me home.”
“Aw, you okay?”
“Oh, I’m fine. Kevin’s pride may be in need of repair, though. I think we’re done for real this time, Lizzy. It’s been a long time coming, so I’m okay.”
“Well, okay…” I say, still a little concerned for her.
“I’m fine, boo, you go have fun! I’ll see you when you get home.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes… please. Enjoy yourself; I’ll be up when you get here.”
I begrudgingly say goodbye and hurry to turn my screen off, sticking the phone back into my purse.
I don’t want to think about that text.
Giving myself a once over in the mirror, the reflection of the girl who stands in front of me is such a drastic change from the one I saw two days ago. This is the girl I used to know, the one I’m getting to know again. She is sexy, confident, and tonight with a sexy as fuck piece of man candy waiting for her at the bar. I stand in front of the mirror and vow to myself not to lose this girl again.
I touch-up my lipstick and smile.
This music is deafening. I look over and see Teeth sitting at the edge of the bar with two drinks and an empty seat next to him.
He catches me out of the corner of his eye and turns to watch me walk up to him. His eyes slowly run down my body, down the low cut of my shirt which stops at my belly button, then around the curves of my hips. His eyes continue down my body then he drags his gaze back up to meet my eyes as I continue to walk toward him. The look in his eyes is dark and hungry. I stare back at him, and he bites down on the corner of his lip causing my heart to beat a little faster. By the time I reach him, he flashes that award-winning smile, and the look he was giving me is gone.
Shit! He just graduated from Teeth to Chris with that look he just gave me. His fucking name is Chris because no man named Teeth should be able to affect me like that with just a look.
I shake it off, sit next to him, and smile. I only smile my heart is still lodged in my throat.
“Sorry it took me so long,” I try to say, but my voice gets swallowed up in the music.
As I take a big swig from my drink, Chris looks at me, points to my cup, then points to the bartender and I nod. He signals the bartender over, points to our drinks and then holds up two fingers. Nodding, the bartender leaves to make our second round.
Chris and I clink our glasses in silent cheers and throw back o
ur drinks. After a moment, he stands, grabs my hand, and guides me onto the dance floor.
“Rock your Body” by Justin Timberlake is more than halfway through when we start dancing, the beat slows and the melody for “Birthday Sex” by Jeremih fills the room, and the energy on the dance floor changes immediately.
Chris moves in close, pressing his body against mine and placing a hand on my waist as the song flows through the speakers. We move slowly in a fluid motion, rocking to the music. Feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest, I run my hand up his back, down his shoulder, and then over his biceps. I love a man with a hard body and, believe me, I appreciate every part, but there is something about a set of sexy biceps that will turn me inside out. My fingers slide over the hard muscle and smooth skin, and I fight the urge to drag my nails across it. Chris smells amazing. I’m feeling so lost right now—the music, the way he feels, and the way he’s looking at me, all intense and incredible.
He pulls his chest away a bit as our bodies continue to move with the music, and he looks down into my eyes. I guess he takes my cue in exploring his body because I feel his hands begin to move exploring more of mine. He runs his hands down my sides, down my hips, around and up my back without ever breaking eye contact.
That sexy as fuck look crosses his eyes again and, being this close to him, I can’t shake off what I’m feeling, I’m drowning in it.
My heart is pumping so hard that my whole body feels like it’s throbbing. He licks his lips, and I feel his breathing pick up as he continues to slowly explore my body with his hands. Slightly, my breath catches every time he squeezes my hips.
Chris’ presence is just so consuming… overwhelming. I almost feel like I can’t breathe. The way his hands skillfully travel on my body, touching lightly in some places then more aggressive in others, makes it hard for me to think straight. His stare, the way his body feels against mine… the feel of his muscles moving under my hands as we slow grind, has me… just… gone.
Moving closer to my face, for a second I think he might be getting ready to kiss me.
I’m shocked at how badly I want him to kiss me.
Reluctantly, he bypasses my lips and presses a light kiss against my neck. Closing my eyes, I draw in a sharp breath and savor in the way he’s making me feel.
We don’t stop moving, but I feel his breath caressing my ear as we have slowed into a gentle sway and the song comes to a close.
I don’t even know what this next song is, even though I’m sure I’ve heard it before.
About five minutes later, we silently head back to his car holding hands.
Chris starts the ignition, but turns down the music and leans back in his seat. My mind is buzzing, and it’s not because of the alcohol—it’s because of him. I’ve never felt that much electricity, that much chemistry with someone else in my life… And we didn’t even kiss.
“Damn, girl,” he says, looking at me. “Maybe we shouldn’t dance sober.”
I can’t help but laugh, which makes him laugh.
I look at the time on his dash, 1:47 a.m.
“Wow, is it that late already? I feel like we just left the apartment.”
“Humph, I guess so, everything’s closing,” Chris says, nodding to the stream of people headed to their cars.
“I have a class at 9 a.m., it’s midterm season.”
“Then it looks like I need to get you home then, huh?”
I look at him, pout, and then buckle my seatbelt.
I hate the night is over, I am really enjoying myself.
We make it to the apartment a little after 2 a.m., and Chris gets out and walks me to my door.
“I want to see you again.”
I blush, full on. What is wrong with me?
“Okay,” I say, “I’ll be free after exam week.”
“Okay,” he says.
“I’ll call you,” I say, giving him a flirty smile, and then I turn to unlock my door.
He stands there for a half second and then backs away toward his car.
I watch from my open doorway as he drives away.
Walking through my living room and into my bedroom, I kick my shoes off and grab a makeup removing cloth to cleanse my face.
Wow, I did not expect the night to turn into this….
I can’t stop smiling.
After changing into PJ’s, I hop on the bed and lay back on my pillow, still grinning like an idiot.
I exhale a deep breath and grab my phone. It’s time…
1 NEW TEXT MESSAGE
And the message is from Sean.
CHRIS
What in the hell am I doing?
I pull onto the highway and head toward the house. I wasn’t expecting this weekend to play out like this. I figured I’d spend most of it covered in oil and sweat; instead, I go on a fucking date.
That was a date, right?
As much as I try to rework it into just hanging out, I know it’s a fucking date and I don’t date. I didn’t think this through, I really didn’t think at all. When she texted me, I assumed it was for a hook-up. Yeah, I know it sounds sleazy but hell, I texted her hours ago, but I didn’t think she was going to respond at all. When she texted back and said she wanted to hang out, I saw how late it was and couldn’t help but think sex.
Funny thing is, the whole time we were together, I was actually interested in the things coming out of her mouth, not just what I could put in it. I’m kicking myself for lying to her about what I do. I never lie about it, there’s no point. The club is a very popular hangout spot in town, especially for the college girls; if she doesn’t already know someone who knows I work there, she will soon. I’m not ashamed of my job, yet still, the lie slid out of my mouth before it was too late to take it back. I don’t know… maybe it’s because she feels different—this feels different— and that dance…
No, now I sound like a pussy.
See, this is why you don’t date or do anything close to it. Next thing I know I’ll turn into JJ and hand her my balls, gift wrapped with roses.
I make it back to the house and head straight to bed.
A blaring phone wakes me from a dead sleep at 7 a.m.
Someone must be dead and if not, they will be soon; there’s no reason for me to be up this early.
“Yeah,” I answer, my voice heavy with sleep.
“Chris, It’s Mom. I just dropped MJ off at preschool, and Shayla was there. She didn’t say anything was wrong when she dropped him off last night, but she was in the office with the director this morning. Just giving you a heads up, I don’t trust that girl.”
“Yeah, okay. I’ll see what’s going on. Thanks, Mom,” I say, trying to hide my annoyance.
“No problem. Are you and MJ coming over for dinner?”
“Uh, I’ll let you know.”
“Okay, love you,” she says.
“I love you too.”
Slamming my phone down roughly on the bed, I sit up; I’m exhausted but there’s no fucking way I’ll be going back to sleep now.
Shayla, what the hell are you up too?
I text Shayla.
ME: Shayla, is everything okay with MJ? Mom said she saw you at the school.
SHAYLA: He’s fine.
ME: Okay. So what were you doing at the school?
After a few minutes, I realize she isn’t going to respond, so I call her. No way in hell is she getting away with no explanation. By the time Shayla’s voicemail picks up, I’m already in my shirt and sliding into my jeans and shoes. Sleep nags at my eyes as I pull onto the highway and head toward the Kinderprep Academy.
She’s crazy, but she wouldn’t disrupt his day over an argument, over a hissy fit. I give the daycare a call when I’m ten minutes away to secure a meeting with the director and ensure MJ is still in school.
Feeling a little better and only slightly panicked, I pull into the daycare parking lot. I punch in my code and walk directly into the preschool directors’ office.
“Hello, Mr. Preston,” Julia
greets.
I offer her a smile and sit in the only other chair in the small room.
“Good morning.”
“How can I help you today, Chris?” she says, smiling at me brightly, and her eyes unmistakably sweep down my chest.
Pulling out the charm that is buried somewhere between exhaustion and worry, I smile at her again.
“I heard Shayla stopped in to speak with you this morning. I was curious about the meeting since it’s unlike her to come to the school without telling me.”
Or ever. I don’t think she has stepped foot in the place since he started when we split up.
At the mention of “the meeting” Julia’s eyes leave mine and scan around her desk as if it holds an excuse to not spill the beans. I clear my throat and her gaze returns to meet mine; her face displays just how uncomfortable she is.
“Is there anything I should be concerned about, Julia?”
The room is still for a beat and Julia sighs; there is technically no reason for her to withhold any information regarding MJ from me, but the amount of details she gives is up to her.
“Listen, Chris, Michael James is a great kid and obviously has a loving family. His mother stopped in asking about his tuition cost. I told her how much it is and that you paid it up for the next two months. She asked for an invoice and when I told her she would need to get it from you, she got very upset.”
“Why would she need an invoice?” I ask.
“I’m not sure, but she may be contacting you about it.”
“Somehow I doubt that.” I sigh and stand. “Thanks a lot, Julia. I’m sorry about her.”
“It’s fine.” She smiles and walks me out.
Dread washes over me. Shayla is an entitled little daddy’s girl, and it wouldn’t be so bad if the “daddy” wasn’t George Wright, one of the best lawyers in the city. I have no idea what this is about, but it may be time for me to lawyer up, for advice, if for no other reason.
After I say goodbye to Julia, I turn down a long hallway decorated with paintings only a mother could love. Macaroni art projects splashed with glitter and rainbow-colored bulletin boards are outside of each classroom.
MJ’s classroom has about twelve kids in it, and they are all separated in various areas around the large room. On one wall there is a large mural of a cartoon style jungle scene complete with monkeys, snakes, and birds that look related to the one on the ‘Fruit Loops’ cereal box.
