Until I Met You

by S. L. Scott

  “No, I love the snow. It’s magical.”

  Looking down the street and then back to her, he started wondering when he’d stopped seeing magic in the world. He could probably guess, but he didn’t want to think about that time.

  A half hour later, his hands were frozen but he still found himself eating pistachio ice cream with Jude for dinner. He bought the treats and joined her at a booth where she was contentedly licking her rocky road. As soon as he sat down, she asked, “I think you can tell everything you need to know about a person by their favorite ice cream flavor.”

  Taylor watched as her tongue came out and she licked the ice cream in absolute bliss. When their eyes connected, she grinned, catching him watching her. Having trouble hiding his own smile, he asked, “What does pistachio say about me?”

  She paused in thought, then offered, “Maybe not in all cases.”

  Tilting his head, he said, “You have an opinion. You just don’t want to share it with me. Go on. Don’t hold back. I’m a big boy. I can take it.”

  Shaking her head, she grabbed a napkin and wiped her mouth. “No, it’s okay.”

  He took one bite of his treat, and in all earnestness said, “I want to know what you think about me. I’m curious.”

  All the lightheartedness that existed between them disappeared and her voice turned somber. “I don’t think you’re pistachio at all. That’s just what everyone else wants you to be.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  Brightening, her expression showed her joy with a wide smile and that seemingly unattainable possibility was back in the depths of her pupils. “Have faith. It’s not too late.”

  “Let’s hope not.” He looked down at his ice cream and completely lost his appetite for pistachio. Getting up, he threw it away and returned to the table.

  Jude looked at her own ice cream. Rocky road. It had always been her favorite and still was until that moment. Suddenly she lost all favor for the flavor and threw hers away too. “What now?”

  He laughed. “You’re the one with all the crazy ideas.”

  “They’re not crazy,” she said defensively, and walked out into the dark of the winter’s evening, the bell above the door chiming loudly behind her.

  Taylor could tell he’d hit a nerve and wasn’t sure if he should be relieved to find one thing that actually affected her or if he should feel bad. He went with the latter. “Hey, Jude. Wait up. I didn’t mean that.”

  Shrugging, she looked up at him. He was handsome. Jude had noticed at the party. It would be hard not to, but now… with the faint light from the store surrounding him and snow falling over his head, he was stunning. Reaching up, she touched his cheeks with her fuzzy green-gloved hands. His breath appeared to stop like hers and she gravitated closer, the tips of her shoes on the tip of his. “Hazel?”

  “Yes?” he replied as if that was his name now.

  “Will you kiss me?”

  Taylor had wanted to do that since he’d met her, but hadn’t realized it until that moment. He took her cheeks between his leather-clad hands and leaned down without hesitation and kissed the girl in the chartreuse sundress. He kissed her until the snow flurried, their world revolving around them. He kissed her until her lips parted and a secret was shared. A secret that would always only be theirs to share. A kiss that said I like you… and maybe more. A kiss that spoke through emotions instead of words. A kiss that bonded them to this moment and to each other.

  When Taylor pulled back, ever so slowly, he opened his eyes to find hers still closed, her red lips still parted, and her hands still on him. So he kissed her again.

  And again.

  Then he kissed her hands after taking them in his. “Jude?”

  “Yes?” she asked in return, leaving her hands right where they were.

  “Do you want to come back to my place?”

  A playful smile crossed her lips. He had trouble looking away from them, wanting to kiss her again, longer this time. “Are you asking me because you want to sleep with me?”

  “I’m asking you because I’m cold, but I wouldn’t be opposed to sleeping with you.”

  Her smiled turned serene, warming him. “Okay.”

  Taylor didn’t know what to expect from her, feeling very much like he was just along for the ride. Her answer was so easygoing and accepting that he found himself surprised by her again, but feeling lucky to have this quirky, pretty girl going home with him. Keeping hold of her hand, they caught a cab and headed across town.

  Jude had been in plenty of nice buildings in Manhattan, but this one was nice, and still felt accessible, much like him. She liked that. The doorman was in a simple sweater and pants. No epaulettes on the shoulders of a brightly colored suit or check-in desk with a gatekeeper. This guy said hello to both of them and held the door. That was all and she was in.

  Taylor lived on the fourteenth floor. As they walked down the hall, she said, “I like this building.”

  “Me too.”

  He held the door open and followed her inside. The apartment was modern, which didn’t surprise her. He was an architect, after all. Clean lines. Simple color scheme of varying warm shades of brown. In contrast, paintings hung on the walls and offered large splashes of color, each room a different theme. Royal blue and turquoise in the living room. Yellow in the kitchen. She peeked back at him and caught his eyes on her. “I’m hoping red is in the bedroom.”

  “Then you won’t be disappointed.”

  With a tilt of her head in approval, she walked to the large wall of windows and looked out. It was dark, but the city always remained lit up like false stars in the night. “Do you have blinds?”

  “I do. Would you like me to lower them?”

  “No.”

  Dragging her fingers across the glass, Taylor watched as Jude surveyed his apartment, secretly wanting her to like the place, to like him. Despite the fingerprint trail he would be cleaning in the morning, it didn’t bother him. “Would you like something to drink?”

  “Why are you acting so formally?”

  “Am I?”

  Her eyes locked on his. “You are. I liked you better when you spoke of The Barretts as things instead of people.”

  “I’m a Barrett.”

  “And yet, I still came here.” Jude walked to an open door. “Is this the bedroom?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’d like a Crown and Coke.”

  “Will Jack Daniels do?”

  “I’ll have wine. Red,” she replied, then disappeared into his bedroom.

  Taylor had stopped trying to figure her out back at the party, so her drink preference didn’t surprise him. It took a few minutes to figure out which bottle he wanted to open. When he did, he poured them both a glass of Cabernet and joined her in the bedroom. He stopped in the doorway when he found her asleep on his bed. “Jude?” He waited a few seconds before trying again. “Jude, are you awake?”

  Walking to the side of the bed closest to her, he set the glasses down on the night table and kneeled in front of her. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was even and calm. Her coat was draped on a chair by the window and her boots were on the floor. The green gloves still covered her hands, so he carefully slipped them off, one by one, and set them by her coat before returning with a blanket to cover her.

  Taking his glass of wine with him, he sat in the chair. Outside, the lights provided enough visibility to see her in the dark room. Her small form was curled on her side. Her lips were together. Her hair splayed over his pillow. He watched her, curious to know more about her.

  He hadn’t brought anyone to his apartment in a long time, and it had been even longer since anyone had been in his bed. But he found her discord refreshing compared to the monotonous tedium of his day-to-day.

  This was the most alive he’d felt in forever. The high was addictive. The eccentric young woman more so. She had disrupted his peace and as he watched her sleep, he liked the way she made him feel.

  He liked her.

 
; THE SMELL OF bacon and eggs woke Taylor. When he opened his eyes, it was still dark outside and his body was stiff. He sat forward in the chair and scrubbed his hands over his face. The bed had been abandoned and the blanket left balled up. Jude.

  Getting up, he walked to the door and looked toward the kitchen. Her back was to him and she scrambled eggs in a skillet. “Good morning, sleepyhead.”

  She wasn’t looking at him and he didn’t know how she knew he was there, but he smiled lightly and joined her, sitting at the bar. “Is it?”

  “Good or morning?”

  “Either. Both.”

  “It’s both,” she replied, turning to greet him with a much more awake smile than his before returning to tend to the eggs.

  Looking at his watch, he yawned. “It’s two thirty in the morning.”

  “I like this time of day. I like being awake when the rest of the world sleeps. It’s peaceful. There’s no negotiating to be done.”

  As he stared at the back of her, her frame covered in wrinkled green cotton, he wanted to ask her about the negotiating, about the pills, about the turmoil she was hiding from. But he didn’t because he liked this. Selfishly, he liked her secrets and her whims. He liked that she was cooking in his home.

  Setting a plate of food and a fork in front of him, she asked, “Coffee?”

  “No, thank you.” He picked up his fork and looked up. “Thank you for the food.”

  She leaned forward, rested her chin on her hands, and stared at him. “You’re welcome. Now stop being so formal, Hazel. You’re making me uncomfortable.”

  He took a few bites, and then asked, “You’re not eating?”

  “I’m not hungry. I’m sleepy. I’m going back to bed.” She whisked around the island bar, right past him.

  “Why aren’t you eating?”

  She called from the bedroom, “I made it for you.”

  He took another bite and swallowed. Then asked, “So does that mean we’re friends now?”

  “Friends. Officially.”

  That made him smile. He finished eating and returned to the bedroom. When he walked in, he took off his pants and the button-up shirt he had fallen asleep in, leaving him in an undershirt and boxer shorts.

  “Will you sleep next to me, Hazel?”

  He almost argued that he didn’t want to be called that, but everything with her seemed to fit, including suddenly having a name he didn’t even like. So he decided to let it slide until morning and slipped under the covers. He felt her dress spread behind her, pushed it forward, and moved closer. He didn’t wait to see if she wanted him touching her. He just did it. Selfishly, he put his arm over her, found her hand, and moved it so he was holding her around the chest, finding his own comfort.

  Her warm breath hit his fingers lightly and he could feel the tenseness of her body. But he didn’t move. He liked it too much to do something that selfless.

  She whispered, “Who is the girl in the photo?”

  Lifting his head up just enough to see the frame facing them, he inwardly sighed, not wanting to touch on that subject tonight. “Thank you for cooking. It was good.”

  “You’re welcome,” she replied, “to keep your secrets, too.”

  A small smile crossed his mouth knowing she understood him, and respected the need to keep secrets too.

  They fell asleep in a comforting silence.

  Hours had passed and Taylor was unaware of the hour. He removed the pillow from his head and looked up. Jude sat in the chair, her skirt billowing around her hips. The way her leg was bent exposed her body beneath the cotton. With a cigarette burning in one hand, her head rested on the other, she said, “What are we going to do about this, Hazel?”

  “What’s this, Jude?” He sat up, his back leaning against the headboard, and rubbed his eyes. With the morning sun shining into the room, he noticed her bright pink panties. “I don’t allow smoking in my apartment.”

  She sighed and stubbed her cigarette into a coffee mug. “That’s the ‘do’ I’m talking about. You’re pistachio and I’m rocky road. They just don’t mix.”

  “I could argue that, but I have a feeling anything I say wouldn’t matter.”

  “That’s where you’d be wrong.” She took her boots in hand. Looking down as she slipped one on at a time, she said, “How long have we known each other?”

  “We don’t know each other at all.”

  “Ah,” she replied, remembering. “Yes, that’s right. You’re a Barrett.”

  Bending his knees, he was getting irritated from this conversation. He wasn’t awake enough for mind games. “And what are you again?”

  “Hopeless. So very hopeless.”

  “And here I thought I was the impossible one.”

  That made her laugh. “Clever.” Standing up, she took her gloves from the table, her coat from the chair, and put it on. As she buttoned, she said, “I called it the minute I saw it.”

  “Saw what exactly? My eye color?”

  “No. Your soul.”

  He was starting to wonder if this conversation would have an ending or if she always talked in circles.

  “I knew we’d be put in an impossible situation, a love affair that would mean more than it should, more than either of us could endure once it was over.”

  He got out of bed as she spoke and grabbed his suit pants. “Love affair? We’ve neither made love or had an affair tonight, so you are either overly confident or psychic.”

  “I’m neither. I just know what I feel and I could see what you needed.” She walked past him as he buckled his belt.

  Following her into the living room, he spoke to her back. “And what do I need that was so apparent to you?”

  “Not just to me. To anyone who really looked.”

  “God, can you just answer one fucking question, Jude? You’re leaving. Give me this.”

  While unlocking the door, she stopped and faced him. “For the record, everything you have said to me mattered. That’s why I’m leaving.” She walked out.

  Jude was halfway down the hall, almost to the elevator when he said, “That seems like a reason to stay.”

  “Don’t let them change you,” she said as she pushed the elevator button. “They’re trying to. They’ll eventually win, but hold out as long as you can. Okay, Hazel? Hold out.”

  Watching her, he debated if he should follow. He debated if he should stay. He debated. He debated. He debated. He debated until she got into the elevator, then the debate was over.

  He ran.

  Hitting the button just before the door closed, he stood there, praying it would reopen. When it did, the cockiest grin he’d ever grown was solidly in place. She was standing at the opening and grinning herself. “Damn, Hazel, I actually thought you were going to let me go there for a minute.”

  He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to him, laughing. “Nope, not letting you go.” His lips crashed heavily into hers as he pressed her against the doorframe of the elevator. Until it started buzzing. Taking her hand assertively in his, he led her back to the apartment and then kissed her again and didn’t stop kissing her until they were in his bedroom.

  They parted long enough to catch their breath. Taylor looked at her red lips, then took her coat off. She kicked her boots off and stood in front of him, missing his lips, missing his breath, and liking his eyes on her, craving her. When her coat was dropped, he leaned in and kissed the side of her bare neck. His hands were holding her shoulders and covered most of her skin.

  Sucking.

  Kissing.

  She closed her eyes, let her head fall back gently, and moaned. When his lips worked their way back up, his nose ran smoothly behind her ear, and the hand on her jaw held her to him. The other hand slipped her strap down over her shoulder. His lips replaced it as her opposite strap was lowered. He found the zipper with ease and slid it down her ribs. They let the dress fall, pooling at her feet.

  He leaned back and looked at her bare breasts, at her body, drinking her in through
his gaze. Taylor was so comfortable, she thought him an anomaly from the man he’d appeared to be at the party. At the party, he wasn’t pistachio. Right now, he wasn’t rocky road either. He was somewhere in the middle, maybe something smooth and definitely something delectable. Someone who got what he wanted, but who usually asked for it. She liked that he hadn’t asked this time. She liked that he was taking…

  His fingertip dipped into the front of her panties while he watched her eyes, watched for her reaction. The lips that were slightly swollen from kissing parted and her breath deepened. He kissed her until his lungs filled with the freedom she’d been inhaling.

  Moving around her, he pressed his chest to her back and flattened his hand, sliding it down between her legs. Weakening under his touch, she reached up and from behind, she grabbed him around the neck, trying to keep her panting from breaking his lips apart from hers.

  Taylor’s mouth was at her ear, and he breathed, “You’re so wet,” emphasizing the T.

  She shivered from his words. She shivered from the loss of control she had been searching for, and had finally found. Her mouth dropped open while her head fell farther back, giving him access to whatever he wanted access to. It didn’t matter as long as his hands were on her body somewhere.

  Gentle circular strokes coaxed each and every breath to leave harsher than it entered. She spun around in his arms and undid his belt. Watching him scrape his teeth over his bottom lips made her anxious and she hurried with the zipper. His pants fell to the floor and he stepped out of them. Cupping her face, he kissed her as he backed her to the bed until she sat and crawled onto it. Once she was settled, he took his boxers off and climbed to the middle where she lay, waiting for him. Centering his body over her, he kissed her.

  Taylor squeezed her breasts, then bent down to kiss and suck each of them. He wanted to move lower. The light reflecting off the frame on the nightstand was in his eyes, so he lifted up, set it face down, and then returned to her body. She was soft under his touch. She was on the thinner side, but had fuller breasts, and wider hips. “Jude?”

  “Yes?”

  His face was between her breasts and he kissed her twice before asking, “What do you want?”