by Rebecca Shea
“Don’t believe anything he tells you about me,” Nick says with a laugh as he leans in closer to me. “Only half of the stories are true.” The music is loud and it’s hard to hear in the bar. “Javier and Michael are adorable, aren’t they?” He changes the subject.
“I didn’t realize they were a couple, and did you just call him ‘Michael’?”
“He only goes by Mike at work. It’s more ‘masculine.’” He makes air quotes with his fingers and rolls his eyes. “And yes, they’ve been together about a year. Michael is lucky; just look at Javi.” Nick smacks his lips. Nick tosses back the remainder of his drink and slams the glass down on the table. “I’m going to go get another one. Can I get you anything while I’m there?”
“I’d love a vodka cranberry, please.” I reach into my clutch to pull out some cash.
“I’ve got this.” He waves off the cash that I try handing to him. I slide onto one of the tall stools that surround the pub table and laugh at Mike and Javier dancing and acting goofy. Lady Gaga’s crooning comes to an end and both men saunter over to the table, sweaty and laughing. Javi excuses himself and leaves Mike with me.
“Soooo… Michael.” I say his full name, eliciting an eye roll. “How long have you been with Javier?”
“A little over a year, but we’ve been friends for over five years.”
“He’s adorable.”
“I know.” He winks at me.
“One vodka cranberry for you and one appletini for me,” Nick announces as he sets down the drinks on the table. “A toast to new friends.” Nick raises his glass. I grab my drink and meet the rim of my glass with Nick’s and Mike’s, and we all toast.
“To new friends,” I say, letting the vodka slide down my throat. Something about the slow burn makes me feel better.
“Let’s dance!” Mike says, pulling me off my stool, and I don’t argue. I need to let loose and have fun.
Four hours, six vodka cranberries, and endless minutes on the dance floor later, I’m done. I’m ready to go home.
“I need to call a cab,” I announce, reaching for my cell phone, which has been tucked away nicely in my clutch all night.
“We will give you a ride. Javier doesn’t drink, so he always gets to drive. Just call me tomorrow and I’ll come pick you up so we can get your car.”
“I don’t want to inconvenience you. It was nice enough of you to invite me to come out with you tonight.”
“No trouble at all,” Javi says as he holds out his arm for me. I’m unsteady in these heels and tipsy after my over indulgence of vodka cranberries this evening. We weave through the still standing-room-only crowd and find the front door. Javi pulls me out into the warm air, guiding me toward his car. For being in the middle of a major metropolitan area, you can still see the bright stars against the crystal clear night sky. Javier opens the front door and I slide into the front seat. Mike sits in the back like a gentleman.
“Where to?” Javi asks as he puts the car in reverse.
“Central and Washington, the condos on the corner.”
He whistles. “Someone’s living the good life.” He glances in the rearview mirror to Mike.
“Hardly,” I mumble. “It’s just temporary anyway.”
“Why temporary? Not staying long?”
“Not planning to,” I admit honestly. “My agent thought it would be a good career move…”
“It is,” Mike pipes in from the back seat.
“But I gave up a lot to take this job.”
“Sweetheart, if you’re miserable, no job will ever make this move worth it.” Javier’s voice is sympathetic.
I nod my head, knowing that he’s right. “I know,” I whisper.
Javier pulls up to the curb outside my building and parks. He meets me at my door as I’m getting out. “Thanks again for driving me home.”
“Call Michael in the morning. We’ll pick you up and take you to your car.” He walks with me toward my building.
“You don’t have to walk me to the door.” I nudge him with my shoulder.
“Well, I’m not dumping you on a street corner in downtown Phoenix and driving off.” He laughs. I reach out to give him a hug.
“Goodnight, Javi.”
“Night, Lindsay. It was really nice to finally meet you. Mike talks a lot about you.” He gives me a hug in return and a small wave as he jogs back to his car. Crossing the lobby, I wait for the elevator when I hear a commotion in the lobby. In walks Jonah with a group of people. Loud, billowing laughter fills the open atrium and I press the up button for the elevator again, hoping to catch a ride before the group gets near. The elevator chimes its arrival and I quickly step inside, when I hear Jonah’s deep voice. “Hold the door, beautiful.”
Shit.
My feet move quickly, carrying me forward into the solitude of the elevator. I push the door close button quickly, but a large hand reaches in and holds the doors open. A small, defeated sigh escapes me.
“Perfect timing,” Jonah says as his group of friends filter into the elevator.
“Yeah, perfect,” I mumble under my breath. My fingers fidget with the small clutch in my hand. With the elevator full, Jonah nudges himself in behind me. I can feel his warm breath on the back of my neck, telling me he’s closer than he should be. I try to focus on remaining steady in these heels.
Jonah’s friends are discussing the evening’s events and laughing as the elevator glides upward. One of them carries a case of beer, another holds a paper bag with what appears to be a bottle of alcohol. As the elevator slows to a stop, I stumble, and a firm set of hands grabs my hips, steadying me. His chest presses against my back and I shiver again when I feel his warm breath on my ear. “Easy there.” His voice is raspy.
“Thanks,” I say quietly. The doors open and everyone begins to exit. I stay firmly rooted in the corner, letting everyone off first. Jonah stays put behind me the entire time, his hands still holding me firmly on the hips.
“After you,” he says, nudging me toward the open elevator doors. He releases my hips, but grabs my hand and pulls me gently out of the elevator and down the hallway.
“I’m fine, Jonah. I’ve got this.”
“You’re not fine. You’re drunk and were swaying all over that elevator.”
“I said I’m fine.” I pull my hand from his and fumble with my clutch to get my key out. Jonah pulls his keys from his front pocket and tosses them at one of the guys standing outside his door.
“Let yourselves in,” he says as he pulls the clutch from my hand and unzips it.
“Jonah!”
“Lindsay, quit acting childish and let me help you.” He opens the clutch and pulls out the key, tossing the black leather clutch back to me. I of course miss catching it, and it falls to the ground, spilling my license, credit cards, cash, and those little white pills that have become my best friend everywhere. He pauses as he looks at everything spilled on the ground, then bends down to pick up the scattered contents. I scramble to my knees to grab the pills, but he’s too quick for me.
“What are these?” he questions me, reaching out and picking up a couple of the white pills. He studies them, then closes his long fingers around the pills. I stay silent, reaching for the cash and my license that are still lying on the ground. “Tell me you aren’t mixing pills with alcohol, Lindsay.” I remain silent as I stuff the cash and license back into my clutch. His large hand wraps around my wrist and squeezes me tightly, causing me to gasp.
“Answer me,” he bites out. “I know what those are. Tell me you aren’t taking those with alcohol.”
“Why do you care?” I whisper.
“Because that’s what those assholes do.” He nods his head toward the door of his condominium. “And they’re fucking stupid,” he says, releasing my wrist and running both of his hands through his hair.
We sit for a moment in silence, looking at each other, both contemplating what to say, what to do next. In one quick movement, he stands up and holds out his hands for m
e take. I reach out and let him pull me to my feet. He wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me toward him and into a hug—and I let him hug me and hold me while I fall apart in his arms.
I cry because I’m sad and embarrassed, but mostly because I’m angry at myself for using pills to hide everything I’m feeling. Jonah holds me while I cry, his grasp firm and tight. He’s silent, but sometimes no words are needed, just the presence of a friend when you’re coming unglued and a firm hug are all you need.
“Come on; let’s get you inside,” he whispers against the top of my head. I nod and sniffle while I swat at tears that continue to fall from my eyes. He keeps me close as he unlocks the door to my condo and reaches in to flip on a light. A single hanging light flickers to life above the kitchen island, and I kick off my heels just inside the door. Jonah stands and watches me for a moment before closing the door and turning the deadbolt.
“Go. You have people at your place waiting on you.” I begin pulling off my earrings, bracelets, and necklace, piling them up on top of each other on the granite island.
“I’d rather be here—with you,” he says quietly.
“I’m just going to shower and go to bed.”
“No. Talk to me,” he says as he crosses the kitchen and takes a seat on the oversized sofa.
“Jonah, I’m tired… and I’ve had a lot to drink.” I hiccup as if on cue. He smirks at me, then pats the cushion next to him.
“Sit.”
My bare feet pad against the wood floor and I throw myself down on the couch dramatically. “What do you want to talk about?”
“You.” His voice is direct, firm. His dark brown eyes drink me in. He watches my every move.
“I’m very boring, I promise.”
“Why the pills, Lindsay?” Whoa; he just jumps right in there, doesn’t he?
“Jonah, look…”
“I’m worried about you, Lindsay. You’re all over the place—happy, sad, and angry. One minute I’m the only friend you have and the next, you act like you can’t stand me. You won’t make eye contact with me and you act like a bitch. What’s going on?”
I contemplate how much I should tell him—how much I want to tell him. I find myself chewing on my bottom lip, my tongue running over a small piece of dry skin, while his dark brown eyes watch me intently.
“I take the pills for pain caused by a car accident I was in about a year and a half ago,” I finally admit. My heart begins beating a little faster as I remember the accident.
“And you still take them?” His brows furrow and he looks at me skeptically.
“No. Well, I didn’t. I just started again.” I look away from him and fix my eyes on a large floor vase full of long, bare branches. I’m ashamed to admit I use pills to deal with the mental pain I’m in, no longer the physical pain from the accident.
“How serious was the accident?” He shifts, causing his body to move a little closer into me.
“It was bad. I broke my leg, my future sister-in-law broke her pelvis, and she ended up losing a pregnancy because of the accident,” I tell him quietly. “I was driving; it was my fault.”
“Accidents happen all the time, Lindsay. It was an accident. You can’t blame yourself.”
“But I do. I shouldn’t have been driving in that storm. I should have turned around, but I was trying to get Reagan to the airport. It just came up on us so quickly and I swerved to avoid a tree in the road and over corrected. I’m not even sure how many times the car rolled; they think three or four. I’ll never forget hearing Reagan’s sobs and thinking she might not survive,” I choke out. A chill runs through me when I think about that afternoon.
“Reagan is your future sister-in-law?”
I nod my head. The lump that has formed in my throat won’t allow me to speak.
“Come here.” He leans back into the arm of the couch and turns toward me with open arms—an invitation that I’m hesitant of. “It’s just a hug, Lindsay.” His small, concerned smile tells me he’s being genuine and, without a second thought, I crawl into his arms and settle in. While his unfamiliar arms wrap around me, I finally let go of all the anger, the sadness, the confusion, and the heartache I’ve been holding onto.
I wake up with a kink in my neck and warm arms wrapped around me. I fell asleep in the arms of another man. Innocent, but feeling guilty, I unwrap myself from his body and push myself off the couch, stumbling across the living room and into my bedroom.
I peel off the leather pants that are stuck to my legs and pull my tank top over my head, tossing both of them into a pile on the floor. I kick them aside as I saunter into the bathroom and turn on the shower—even though the water is on cold, it’s scalding hot, a side effect of the scorching Phoenix temperatures I’ve quickly learned.
The hot water pricks at my skin and my tense muscles finally begin to relax. Steam billows from the shower and fills the air—a light cloud enveloping me. I scrub my body, hoping the water will wash away the ache inside of me. My head pounds from the drinks and crying myself to sleep last night, but nothing hurts as much as my heart.
Slipping into a pair of cotton lounge pants and a loose t-shirt, I run a comb through my tangled mess of blonde hair. My blue eyes are lacking spark; they’re lifeless, just how I feel. I make a mental note of how I look and plan to make a greater effort to take care of myself—on the outside. A knock on my door pulls me away from my self-loathing.
“Come in,” I murmur. The door swings open and Jonah peeks in. A smile spreads across his face. His smile is infectious and his brown eyes bright. His morning hair is a tousled mess, but it fits his personality.
“I made coffee,” he stammers.
“Exactly what I need. I’ll be right out.” He shuts the door and I pick up the pile of clothes I left lying in the center of the floor. I catch a glimpse of a pill bottle on my nightstand and quickly move to hide the bottle in the drawer, but before I do, I toss two in my mouth. I’ve become an expert at swallowing pills with a dry mouth. I hear Jonah rustling around out in the kitchen, so I tuck the bottle of pills away under a sleep mask and decide to face Jonah for coffee.
I find Jonah standing at my kitchen island, all Adonis-like. His tan skin glows against his dirty blond hair and brown eyes. This is the first time I’ve noticed him in a way other than my pesky college student neighbor. He looks older than twenty-four and his looks are out of place in Phoenix. He definitely belongs on a beach with a surfboard. He smiles when he catches me watching him, and I’m slightly embarrassed he caught me. I blush and head for the island, where a cup of coffee waits for me.
“Hmmm…” I growl when the black liquid hits my tongue. There is nothing like the feeling of hot coffee sliding down your throat, when you can feel it travel from your throat to your belly, finally settling into your veins, where it delivers that first kick of caffeine your body craves. It’s intense… and I love the first sip of coffee every morning.
“I like that sound you make when you drink coffee,” he smirks. I shake my head and smile at him. “You did it last week when I brought coffee and muffins.”
“I don’t even think that I realize I do it.”
“Do it again.”
“I can’t force it. It just happens.” I laugh at him.
“I like when you laugh, Lindsay.” His voice becomes more serious.
“I do too.” I press the large mug to my lips again, hoping to avoid a repeat of last night’s conversation.
“So,” Jonah sets his mug down and sits on one of the stools at the island. “Tell me something about yourself. Something I don’t know about you.”
“What is this, like twenty questions or something?”
“Something like that.” He steeples his long fingers together and places them under his chin while he waits for me to answer.
“Hmm… let me think.” I tap my finger to my chin and scrunch my face as if I’m thinking really hard about how to answer.
“I’m really funny and sarcastic,” I say with a smile.
“I want to see the funny Lindsay,” he says quietly, brushing a piece of wet hair away from my face. I swallow hard, at a loss for words. “Have dinner with me tonight. Let me get to know you.” His fingers play with a strand of my hair; he rubs it back and forth between his thumb and forefinger.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” he says with a giant sigh of relief and a smile stretches across his golden face.
“Yes, okay,” I repeat with a smile this time.
There’s a knock at my door and I know it’s Landon and Reagan. “Doors open!” I holler from the kitchen. I’m stocking the fridge with beers and opening bags of chips. When I invited Landon over to watch the pre-season football game, I didn’t realize it was going to turn into a party. But where Landon goes, Reagan goes. Where Reagan goes, it’s a party.
“Hey, Matty,” Reagan says, leaning in and planting a quick kiss to my cheek. She’s juggling a large crockpot in her hands while a shopping bag dangles from her arm.
“Hey, Reag. Let me help you.” I pull the crockpot from her hands and plug it into the outlet on my kitchen island. I see her do a once over on the kitchen and a small smile tugs at the corner of her lips when she realizes I haven’t reverted back to my ways of caveman living since she helped me clean up the place a few weeks ago.
“Smells good. What’s in there?”
“Buffalo chicken dip. It’s amazing and for you guys, since I’m on a diet.” She pats her stomach. “Watching my weight for the wedding.”
