by Meg Farrell
He laughs, and it is a great laugh. Oh God. I decide how much I like that laugh. Something inside me melts. My resolve and suspicions become cloudy. My mind aches as I try to resist the urge, but my body doesn’t listen to my mind around him. I find myself smiling. Fail. Kate invites them to sit down.
Justin looks at me, before sitting. “Are you okay with us staying?”
He’s asking you, dummy. I chastise myself. Stammering, I answer as I start sliding over to make room, “Yeah, sure. Why not?”
Justin slides in beside me while his friend takes a seat next to Kate. Justin introduces his friend, Cameron, to us. Cameron’s gaze haven’t left Kate’s boobs since I noticed the guys standing beside the table. She’s eating it up! This is the kind of attention she loves in a social setting.
I steal another look at Justin, and he’s pulling that knit hat off his head, tucking into the inner pocket of his seriously worn-out leather jacket. The booth is small and he’s close enough to me that I smell the leather of his jacket. He’s smoothing his hair, and every move he makes sends more of his smell my way.
It reminds me of my father; an earthy mix of cologne, faint cigarettes, and an old truck. It’s intoxicating. Memories spill through my mind, taking me on a quick journey back to my childhood home. I lean toward him, eyes closed, taking a long, deep breath. When I open my eyes and look at him, his bright eyes are smiling down at me.
“Nice, right?”
Busted. I smile sheepishly. “I can’t help myself, I love real leather.”
He nods his agreement. “It was my Dad’s. I stole it in middle school, and I’ve been wearing it ever since.”
“Was the hat your Dad’s too?” I ask.
“That? Uh, well, no. That’s a gift.”
“A gift? From who?” Please don’t say girlfriend. I suddenly care too much about this answer. It doesn’t matter if he has a girlfriend. It’s not like I want to date him. Maybe jump him, but not date.
He laughs. “It was a gift from my aunt. She knits.”
I puzzle it over for a moment and then ask the one question that’s been bothering me since he sat down at our table, “So, Justin, are you stalking me?”
His laugh is booming as I, apparently, struck him as completely hilarious. Tears form in the corners of his eyes, and he gasps for air. Looking at me, he seems to be shocked I’m not laughing. His eyes widen before he answers, “What? Stalking? No.”
I raise my eyebrow in an expression that tells him I doubt his answer. “Really? Today at work was explainable by the printer. Lunch was easy enough to connect by your proximity to work. But, dude, tonight? Tonight is stalking territory. There’s no good explanation for how we have run into each other ‘randomly.’” I do air quotes. “Three times in the same day.”
His eyebrows pull in as he frowns. “There’s a great explanation for all of that.” Something occurs to him and his expression changes from frustrated to cocky. “You just fail to see it.”
This pisses me off, but I’m going to hold back and give him a chance to explain. “Why don’t you explain what I fail to see, then?” I demand as I cut my eyes at him.
The grin that moves from the corner of his mouth to his entire face is entirely too adorable. I need another beer. He starts to answer, but I put my hand on his mouth. “Wait. I need a beer before you try to sell me some bullshit.”
“Got it.” He jumps up from the booth and goes to the bar. When he settles up with Todd, he has four beers in his hands. He’s bought a round for the whole table. Kate and I make eye contact. She winks. I groan.
It’s easy to push guys away because most of them are assholes with some motive (read: sex). They are selfish, at least in my experience. The fact that Justin thought of all of us and bought a round is a small clue that he may not be like all the other guys. He doesn’t make a big production of passing out the drinks. He just sets them on the table. All but mine. He holds it out to me. “Ultra, right?”
Reluctantly, I give him a small nod as I reach for it. I’m not in the habit of letting guys buy me drinks. Nothing good comes from it; never has. There are expectations behind those gestures. Somehow, I manage to mutter a small, “thank you.”
“So, I owe you an explanation,” he starts as he settles back into his seat. “Well, it’s not stalking. It’s been total chance that we have run into each other. I think all things happen for a reason. I don’t know if it’s God, or the universe, or whatever.” He waves his hand in the air dismissively. “Somehow we keep finding each other. That’s why I’ve made it a point to speak to you every time. Whatever the it is, I want to give it a chance to reveal itself.”
All I can do is stare at him. What is he? Where did he come from? He’s weird, yet strangely perfect.
Justin leans toward me and places his mouth next to my ear. “Close your mouth, Alana.” I shiver. He chuckles, and pulls back from me slightly. Still close enough that I can feel the warmth of his breath on my cheek, and far enough that we can make eye contact. The parts of me that melted earlier have gone full liquid. This is the feeling I love about being with someone, and it’s the feeling I hate. This means I’ve let my guard down some. I cannot afford to do that. My feet feel numb as realization sinks through me. His eyes on mine are too intense.
I break our eye contact by taking a sip of beer. Cameron grabs his attention. In bar whispers, which are not really whispers, they discuss cancelling their post-bar plans. Something about meeting other friends for dinner.
Kate sends me a quick text while they’re talking, “Holy shit. You met him at work? What’s he do there?”
I text her back, “Later.”
Her answer is swift, “Damn right! So, you okay if I take Cameron home tonight?”
“You’ve known him like five seconds. What is wrong with you?”
Justin and Cameron are staring at us now. Apparently they can tell we’re texting. Kate’s look is still questioning, but she shrugs at my text. I simply nod as an answer to her earlier question.
Kate doesn’t have strict rules for her sexuality. If she wants something, she goes for it. If she wants to do something, she does it. I love her, and while I see some of her behavior as self-destructive, it’s not my place to say anything about who she takes home or sleeps with.
The night wears on and the boys keep buying us beers. Kate and I don’t pay for a single drink. We talk and laugh all night. Their stories are incredible. It’s a wonder they’ve survived as long as they have. They are both about to turn thirty. Their birthdays are just weeks apart. They were high school buddies. Cameron always had a car, and Justin always had an idea. They stayed in trouble with law enforcement, school authorities, and landed in juvie several times. Justin settled down when he decided he wanted to go into law enforcement. Cameron followed him into the academy. That’s what best friends do. They can’t function without each other and going into a dangerous profession meant they were going together.
As I’m listening to their story about the time Cameron accidentally tazed himself, I start opening and closing my mouth. My teeth feel soft. Or maybe I just can’t feel them at all. I’m attempting to clack my teeth together to tell for sure, and reach my fingers up to rub my nose. My nose is numb, too. Realization dawns on me; I’m drunk. I start laughing at Cameron’s description of flopping on the floor like a fish and taking too much comfort in Justin. His arm is around my shoulder, and I’m leaning against him. In the middle of the story, I’m laughing so hard I can’t catch my breath.
Justin sweeps my hair back from my face. “You feeling okay?”
I nod. “Perfect.”
“You sure? You keep patting your nose.”
“It’s numb.”
“Ah! The old numb nose. I love that time of night.”
Still trying to piece him together, and being drunk, I’m a bit overly blunt, “But you aren’t a cop, though.”
Justin shakes his head. “Nope. I’m not.” He winks.
“But, why?” I ask.
&nbs
p; He shakes his head. “That, my dear, is a story for another night. And we’ll need many more beers.” After a beat of silence, he slaps his palm on the table. “Dance with me,” he demands.
“No.”
“Please dance with me?” he asks sweetly.
“No. I don’t dance,” I answer with just a touch of disdain in my voice and screw my face into a frown.
“Make you a deal. You dance with me, one dance, and I’ll take you home.”
I check my phone for the time. Shit! It’s after midnight, and I have work tomorrow. I think about his deal. As I’m about to decline for the third time, the music shifts. It’s something much sweeter and slower. It’s actually one of my favorite songs right now.
The Arctic Monkeys start crooning, but it’s the line about a coffee pot that makes me realize who played this song. I gape and then slug him in the arm. He slides out of the booth and reaches his hand out to me.
I smile and take his hand. We don’t bother with going to the dance floor. He takes my left hand in his right, and puts his left arm around my waist. The alcohol has my balance off, so I lean into him more than I want to, resting my head on his chest. The way I’m positioned doesn’t work for the left hand coupling, so he releases my hand and wraps his right arm around my waist, too. I reach up, winding my arms around his neck.
As we sway, he leans down and whispers in my ear, “I’m glad you ripped that lever off the printer.” I let out a very unladylike, embarrassing snort. I turn my face to his neck and take a long sniff as I move my nose from his collar to his ear.
When I reach his ear, I kiss the tender spot right behind his ear lobe, and whisper, “Me too.” He reacts by squeezing me a little tighter so I lean back enough to see his face. His expression is unreadable.
I’m shocked by my own behavior, and I’m trying to come up with some kind of excuse or way out of this when he says, “Stay here.”
Now, it may be the fact that I’m drunk as shit, but I start to protest. I mean, where am I going? We’re beside the table. I turn to say something to Kate and notice we are not beside the table. Apparently, our drunk-sway dancing has pulled us to the middle of the bar.
I see Justin with an armload of our jackets and my purse. He shakes hands with Cameron, then kisses Kate on the cheek. When he returns to me, he helps me put my jacket on before putting on his own. Then he tucks my purse under his arm, and takes my hand, pulling me toward the door.
He loads us into a truck. It’s an old one that has seen better days. That’s part of why he smells like he does. Like my dad and old trucks. When he turns the engine on, the radio comes on automatically. It’s blaringly loud. I cover my ears as he fumbles with the knob to turn it down. Finally, he just smacks it until the radio turns off.
“Sorry,” he mumbles.
“Wait! Aren’t you drunk, too?”
“Nope. I stopped drinking hours ago.”
His answer kind of pisses me off, but at the same time, I’m incapable of really complaining.
The silence during the ride is awkward, and the truck is too full of him. I’m starting to feel overwhelmed, so I roll down the window. It’s freezing, and I hold my face out into the night as if I’m absorbing the sun on a summer day. Finally, cold enough to break through the haze, I ask, “Where are we going?”
“Your place. I’m taking you home. You’ve had too much to drink.”
I frown. “What if I don’t want to go home right now? What about Kate? How do you know where I live?” I’m confused, and my agitation is growing.
“Shhhh. Calm down,” he tries to soothe me. “She’s fine. She and Cameron are going to our place. Kate told me where you live.”
“Why would she go to your place with Cameron?” As soon as the question leaves my lips, I know exactly why she would do that. Then I remember our texts from earlier. I giggle like a little kid, and right before the giggles give way to snorts, “Ohhhhhhh, okay. Got it.”
The giggles are apparently contagious. Justin’s face cracks and he starts laughing, too. There are tears in both of our eyes by the time we pull into my driveway. He comes around to open my door and offers me his hand as I get out. Justin is ever the gentleman by wrapping his arm around me to provide warmth and stability as we take it easy going up the slightly icy steps. I fumble with my key and eventually give up, handing it over to him. “Here! You do this. I can’t.”
He takes the key and makes quick work of getting us inside. We step into the living room, and Justin seems distracted as he takes in our cozy little place.
Something about the ridiculous laughter, and proximity to him has me feeling not only attracted to him, but anxious to see where this is going. My mind and body are disconnecting. My mind reminds me of all the reasons I don’t get involved with anyone. My body is reacting to him. Somewhere deep inside, I remember it could just be the alcohol.
Pondering through all of the reasons and options, I attempt to take my jacket off. Losing my balance, I start to fall. Slightly panicked, I grab for Justin, and catch a handful of shirt as I fall backward onto the sofa. He falls on top of me, and is about to apologize, but I won’t let him. I kiss him.
He’s surprised, but kisses me back after the surprise passes. His kiss is gentle and is soon growing in intensity becoming possessive. Justin’s kiss is hungry. A starved man who’s found exactly what he’s been looking for. I slide my hands under his jacket and under his shirt to feel his warmth. He jumps and gasps for air.
“Woah! Cold hands!”
“So warm them up,” I challenge.
The moment broken, he stands and takes off his jacket. When he’s finished, I take his hand and lead him to my bedroom. I sit to untie my combat boots, and he slides his chucks off by the door. Boots unlaced, I fall off the chair as I try to pull the first one off. I’m laughing like an idiot when I see Justin shake his head and kneel in front of me. “Let me do this. You’ll hurt yourself.”
After the second boot comes off, he stands, helps me up, then takes off his T-shirt. I gape. The man is beautiful. The police academy was good to him. He must work a ton to keep that body.
Noticing I’m frozen, and obviously appreciating his body, he steps closer to me, reaching out a hand to cup my cheek. Using his other hand to cradle my face, he guides my mouth back to his. I breathe in his scent all the way to my core because, for some reason, I can’t get enough. He feels… safe. I reach for the button on his jeans, and he reaches for mine. We shimmy out of our jeans and make our way onto my bed, mouths never relenting in their respective exploration of the other.
On the bed, he lays back and I straddle his hips, taking charge of the situation. I slide my hands across his chest, and consider leaning down to lick the lines of his abs. The vee of his hips taunt my drunken mind.
Instead, I start at his ear, leaving a line of kisses down his neck stopping the hollow of his throat. Here, I alternate licks and kisses as I move across his shoulder. He groans then wraps me in his arms as he rolls us over. His smile is encouraging as he says, “My turn.”
He kisses me so sweetly, my heart starts to ache. My brain decides now is a good time to chastise me for falling into bed with him because I’m drunk. The free spirit that resides inside is quick to shut that bitch up. We want this. He’s hot, and it has been five years.
Even back then, it wasn’t special. It had been an obligation. A requirement. Something I’d had to do to keep my ex-husband happy so he wouldn’t hurt me. Realizing I’m mentally checked out of this moment, I open my eyes to focus on Justin.
Moans slip out of me as he mimics the path of kisses I left on his body. The only difference is how his large, hot hands explore my body. He’s careful as he slides his hands under my T-shirt, up from my waist, across my stomach, and my scar. The scar. Oh No! My mind starts screaming at me. No no no! Stop! Sobering, I grab his hand and yell, “Stop! Don’t! No!”
Justin immediately stops and pulls back. He throws his hands in the air like a criminal that’s been caught, “What
’s wrong? What did I do? Did I hurt you?” Concern colors across his face.
Pushing him off, I sit up, drawing my knees up to my chest. I rest my head on them as I try to catch my breath. He moves away from me, but only fractionally. He’s quiet until my breathing normalizes.
“Hey,” he says gently. “I’m sorry. It was too fast. We shouldn’t have…”
I sigh. “Please, don’t apologize. That was…I just…” I can’t look at him. I can’t finish the sentence. Tears pool and then start streaming down my face. I’m trying to regain some perspective and calm down. There’s a shift as Justin stands up. I don’t want him to leave, but I don’t know how to tell him why I stopped him.
He starts moving around the room, dressing. He comes to the edge of the bed, runs his hand from the crown of my head, and down my back. He sits for a long while rubbing my back. I think he’s waiting on me to snap out of it and talk to him. It seems like an eternity that he sits with me. Waiting.
Eventually, he kisses the top of my head, gets up from the bed, opens the door, and leaves.
When the door closes and his truck starts, the devastation of the moment becomes too much. I curl into a ball and fall apart.
4 - Trust
I wake from my usual nightmare, sweating in a freezing house, disoriented. The only thing that anchors me is the smell of fresh coffee wafting through the house. Instead of starting with my morning shower, I decide to talk to Kate. When I enter the kitchen, she turns and places a cup of coffee on the breakfast bar. I smile. She doesn’t. She’s busy making pancakes and eggs. Bacon is already done and sitting on some plates for us.
“Yum. Breakfast. Thanks, babe,” I say to test the waters.
She lets out a small laugh. “Oh, you know this doesn’t come cheap. We are going to talk about last night.”
