Give Me Yesterday

by K. Webster

  An unwelcome surge of heat spirals through me at the sight of him. He looks good, really fucking good. His jeans ride low on his hips, a loose Cubs jersey hangs off of his broad shoulders, blue and white Converse on his feet, and that damn dimple peeking out when he smiles at me. His brown eyes become even darker behind the lenses of his glasses, when he sees me. Before I can say anything, he snakes a hand around my waist, yanking me into his hard chest, and blowing my mind with the best hello kiss I’ve ever had.

  When he finally releases my lips, I’m in a daze again, and I can barely remember my name. He stands back and examines my clothes with a frown. I immediately miss the dimple.

  “I specifically told you to wear jeans, Tori.” His words admonish, but there is no real censure in his tone. He kisses my cheek and turns me around, a bag is suddenly dangling in front of my face, and his breath whispers in my ear. “Somehow, I knew I’d need these.” He shakes the bag a little, while placing a soft kiss on my neck. I suppress a shudder, but take the bag, and feel the movement of his lips on me as he smiles. Backing up, he lightly smacks my ass. “Go change, babe. We’ve got to get going.”

  I don’t know what just happened, or how I ended up here, but I’m now unexpectedly standing in the hallway entrance to my living room, wearing a pair of skinny jeans, a red tank top, and a button down Cubs jersey over it. Chase is standing in the center of the room, looking around with a bewildered expression. Eventually, he notices me and a beautiful smile breaks out on his face. “Wow, you look spectacular.”

  I don’t want it to, but pleasure at his compliment grips my heart and squeezes. I was mad, I know I was. I just can’t seem to focus enough to remember why. He strides over to me and stands right in front, feet spread, arms crossed, and a thumb under his chin, pointer finger tapping his lips. Contemplating me. “Hmmm. Just one thing to make it perfect.” Before I can react, he’s pulled all of the pins from my hair and is gently running his fingers through it, combing out the tangles. He resumes his former stance, then nods with a look of satisfaction. “Perfect.” He grabs my hand. “Let’s hit the road. First pitch is at eight and I want to feed you first.”

  I stop, unmoving. His comment ringing in my ears. Did he say what I think he said? “We’re—we’re going to a Cubs’ game?” I stammer. Shards of excitement are slicing their way through the wall I thought was impenetrable. Chase grins, his eyes dancing at my reaction.

  “Yep. A home game against the Cardinals.” I can’t stand still anymore, I can’t stop the delight making me fidget. I want to bounce on my toes like a kid, and scream with joy. I haven’t been to a Cubs’ game since the last time I went with my dad, when I was a kid.

  I have no control over my body anymore and I launch myself at Chase, jumping up on his body, my legs and arms surrounding him. I plant a huge kiss on his mouth and then yell, “We’re going to a Cubs’ game!”

  Chase starts laughing and he looks as though he’s lit up from the inside, truly reveling in my excitement.

  “As much as I’m enjoying having you wrapped around me, I don’t want to miss watching you experience this date.” He slides me slowly down his body, feeling every inch. Every hard inch. Everywhere we connect, there is a spark of electricity. “Let’s get going, babe.”

  I run to the closet and grab my jacket, since it gets windy and quite chilly at night games, even in the hottest months of the summer. Keys in hand, credit card and ID in my pocket, and I’m ready to roll.

  He takes me to Gino’s East, an iconic pizza place in the city, where we gorge on deep dish and color all over our table cloth, laughing and enjoying each other’s company. It’s so easy to let my guard down with him, to be a small part of the girl I once was.

  After we eat, we head to Wrigley Field, one of the most marvelous places on earth. It should be christened the eighth world wonder. As we walk, I realize Chase is heading through the first level and out into the infield boxes. Holy fucking shit. I could practically talk to the players in the batter’s box. Wrigley isn’t a very expensive stadium, but still. These seats are over a hundred dollars apiece, and while that probably doesn’t make much of a dent in either of our checking accounts, my dad and I would never have considered paying that when I was a kid. So, I’ve never watched a game from these seats, and I can barely contain my excitement!

  I get out my program and set up my score sheet. But then, feeling eyes on me, I look up and see Chase watching me, his eyes soft and happy. “What?” I laugh. The sound is so foreign to me, it gives me a startle, but Chase’s face lights up and a huge smile graces his face.

  “Nothing. Although, I got the impression before that you’d been to games.”

  “I have, but not since I was maybe, sixteen or seventeen. My last game was just me and my dad, right before I had my daughter I think.” I’m musing on the time frame so I’m not paying attention to the fact that Chase has gone silent, and still. “I was excited to have the time to go with them, as a family, after graduation. I wanted to build memories with her, like I had with my dad.”

  I return to setting up my scorecard, still thinking about the past. “She’d be old enough now to be keeping her own scorecard, know the players, the rules of the game, and everything. I’d make sure of it.” I giggle. “I was born a Cubs fan, and so was she.”

  “Your husband, he was a fan as well?” Chase asks quietly.

  “Yeah, though he was never as die hard as I am. But he thought it was cute that I was so obsessed, so he indulged me.” Images of “what if” begin to form in my mind and I feel the melancholy start descending. Not now, not when I’m so happy. I push it away and quickly change the subject. “Have you always been a Cubbie fan?” I look up and see he’s watching me more intently. Somehow I know he wants to ask me more questions about my past, but I’m done, and after a moment, I think he recognizes that. Pushing will only ruin this fabulous night.

  “Yes, same as you, really; born a fan. Although, having grown up on the south side, I got no shortage of shit about it growing up.” He laughs and the deep rumble has a magnetism that creates a pull between our bodies. That sound must make every female student he has have to change their panties after his class.

  As batting practice finishes up, I learn that his mom and dad are older, and he’s the youngest of two. They still live on the south side, but he moved them to a little apartment halfway between his place and his older sister’s, who also still lives in the area. There is such love and affection in his tone. He is clearly still close to his family. A familiar pang springs in my chest, but I refuse to acknowledge it. But, it reminds me.

  I know I’m going to have to clear the air about the wedding thing, I just can’t bring myself to do it right now. This is the best date I’ve ever been on and I don’t want to spoil it. The pang hits harder this time, like a blow to the stomach. I mean, best date other than my dates with Ben. I squeeze my eyes shut, and battle the guilt. The game starts and I let it consume my mind, forgetting the pain, guilt, and memories.

  I go all in, screaming with the crowd when we score, grumbling and yelling at the ump when he makes an outrageous call. “That was clearly a strike, blue! Get your head out of your ass!” Chase laughs and grabs my hand, tugging me back into my chair, not letting go once I’m seated. I try to extricate my hand nonchalantly, but his tightens, and he throws me a stern look. To which I reply by sticking my tongue out at him.

  I’m struck, completely stunned when it dawns on me that I made such a childish gesture. I don’t know who I am right now. I’m lost again, like I was last night. Someone else—a fragment of someone I used to be—but a stranger nevertheless. Chase is doubled over, laughing. When he calms, he grabs my face with both hands and thoroughly kisses me, only stopping when we get some whistles and catcalls. My face suffuses with heat, my body flushed with embarrassment, and (I’m so fucked…uh, I mean, I’m in so much trouble) arousal. Damn, he is gorgeous.

  With another swift peck on the lips, he grips my hand again and turns back to the gam
e. We got into extra innings, with the Cubs finally triumphing over the Cardinals after fourteen innings (take that, you pompous birds!), at one o’clock in the morning. The crowd is jumping and dancing around singing our victory song, “Go Cubs Go.” Chase can’t sing worth shit, but he’s so damn cute that I’m mesmerized.

  As the excitement dies down, he takes my hand and leads me out through the crowd to the Wrigleyville L stop and we hop on the train back to the city. I’m still vibrating with the energy of the crowd after a win, pumped up and happy. Just…happy. I barely notice when we exit at my stop, still unaware as we enter my building, and taken by complete surprise when Chase pushes me up against a wall, sealing his mouth over mine. It is only then that I realize we are in my elevator. I don’t spend a lot of time noticing the elevator either, or the fact that Chase is still kissing me as he walks me backward down the hall, unlocks my door, and continues to feast on me once we are inside. He backs me up again, but my hip hits the small table in the entry, shooting pain down my leg and tingles all through my pelvis (not the good kind either). “Ouch!”

  He instantly stops. “Are you all right?” He glances down and clocks the sharp edge of the table and winces, “Damn, baby. Sorry about that”

  I rub my hip a little, trying to ease the pain. “It’s fine, it just hit the wrong spot.” I limp a few inches away and turn to toss my keys in a small glass bowl on the surface. The pile of unopened mail catches my attention. My cousin’s wedding invitation is sitting right on top.

  My spine gathers some steel and I remember what it was I needed to talk about to him. I pick it up and slowly pivot, finding that Chase has plopped down on my white, leather couch, his hand stretched giving me a come hither motion. I start toward him and when he sees the hard expression on my face, his brows rise practically to his hairline, and he drops his hand.

  I lower myself onto the opposite end of the couch, and toss the invitation at him.

  “What the fuck were you thinking, sending an RSVP to my cousin’s wedding?” My voice rises to just below a screech, “And sending a plus one?!”

  I gape at the furious woman in front of me and can’t help the smile that tugs at my lips. She’s so fucking cute when she’s pissed.

  “Come here,” I order in a playful tone.

  She huffs at my nonchalance and jerks to her feet. “Maybe you should go, Chase.” She points at the front door. “Clearly you won’t respect my boundaries—boundaries I’ve had in place for a very long time. If you can’t do that, then we can’t be…”

  I raise an eyebrow at her to finish her statement but the stubborn woman then presses her lips together and shoots me a glare.

  “Fine,” I snap and jump to my feet. “I’ll leave. Bye, Victoria.”

  Feigning anger, I storm to the front door. When I hear a shocked gasp, I glance over my shoulder to see tears welling in her eyes and her hand covering her mouth.

  “You called me Victoria.”

  This time, I turn to her and am a little more forceful in my command. “Come here.”

  She marches over to me and throws herself into my outstretched arms. “Were you really going to leave?”

  Chuckling, I squeeze her to me and kiss the top of her head. “And miss hanging out in your Southern Living magazine living room, on your pristine white couch I most likely got dirty just from looking at it, while you bitch at me about boundaries? Never.”

  Her laugh is music to my ears and I run my fingertips down her spine.

  “Tori—you’ll always be fucking Tori to me—because saying your full name is a mouthful and I’m too lazy to say it all,” I state. “Anyway, I’m not going anywhere. I told you this already. As far as the wedding RSVP, I’ll admit, I overstepped.”

  Her tone is haughty. “Overstepped? You crossed a line that nearly got my secretary fired.”

  I roll my eyes. “Don’t ever fire Stacey—I like her. But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

  Her face is still contorted into an angry one but when I flash her a goofy grin, she caves and her lips twitch as she attempts to hold back a smile.

  “Fine. Apology accepted. And, I know you don’t think it’s a big deal, but I’m not eager to be around them. They bring up the past and it guts me, Chase.”

  Dipping to her mouth, I press a soft kiss there. “Remember all that talk about me carrying you? I wasn’t lying. I’ll be there, babe. Don’t worry so much.”

  “They’ll assume that we’re—that we’re—”

  Cutting her off, I say, “Boyfriend and girlfriend?”

  “Ugh, yes!”

  “Aren’t we, babe?”

  She glares at me again so I dissolve the ticking bomb by stealing another kiss, this one a deep one.

  “We’re nothing,” she tries, but I swallow her words as I dive my tongue into her mouth.

  When I’ve kissed her to the point that she’s liquid jelly in my arms, I pull back and smirk. “Tori, we’re something.”

  I pull away from her and saunter over to her television. “How do you turn this thing on? I’m afraid to touch anything in here,” I tell her, “Next sleepover is at my place.”

  She shrieks and I bellow with laughter.

  “Chase, you are really walking a thin line tonight!”

  I flash her a wicked grin. “I know, boundaries and shit. What can I say? I like to test my limits.”

  She shoulders past me and effortlessly mashes some buttons on her remote. Soon, we’re both standing in front of the television watching the news.

  “Jesus, Tori. Is this what you do for fun?” I grumble and steal the remote. Flipping through the channels, I land on the new version of The Amityville Horror. “We’re watching this. Go grab us some blankets. I’m not cuddling on that white leather.”

  When I turn to glance at her, she’s scowling. “I don’t have fun, especially three hours past my bedtime on a weeknight. You’re bossy and obnoxious, you know that?”

  “You like it. You’re the fan of the manhandling, not me. I’m just trying to please the lady,” I reply.

  “Seriously, Chase. I have to work in the morning.”

  “You’ll live. It’s just one night.” She doesn’t move so I slap her ass. “Get to it, woman.”

  With a kitten-like growl, she stomps away. While she’s gathering the blankets, I explore her home.

  Crisp.

  Cold.

  Uninviting.

  Frowning, I stroll into the kitchen. Stainless steel appliances have been scrubbed to shine. White granite countertops add to the sterile vibe she has going on in here. There’s not a speck of dirt or a dirty dish in this kitchen.

  The girl could use a drink—something to warm her up and thaw the ice that runs through her veins. Like the nosy person I am, I open some of her cabinets to see if she’s stashing away any liquor.

  I come up empty but I do find the motherlode of Peanut M&Ms.

  So the girl does do some color.

  Snatching up the bag, I saunter back into the living room to see her efficiently tucking a blanket into the cushions of the couch. She’s changed into the most casual thing I’ve ever seen her wear. An outfit that has my cock on full alert.

  My eyes skirt over her scantily clad body and I swallow down the urge to throw her down on the couch, ripping the rest of her clothes off along the way.

  I mean, seriously.

  Why the hell is she teasing me wearing nothing but a tight pair of peach colored pajama pants and a white camisole? Her blonde hair is wild and it hangs in front of her shoulders causing her to look every bit the angel I know she hides deep inside.

  “I changed my mind about the sleepovers. Your house is way better,” I drawl out and make a show of skimming my eyes over her body.

  Her cheeks pink and she shakes her head. “You are not sleeping over, Chase.”

  “We’ll see,” I tell her smugly and toss her the bag of sweets. “I brought dessert.”

  She smiles and tears them open while I kick off my shoes. If she’s go
ing to get comfortable, then so am I. With a tug of the bottom of my jersey, I peel it off and I nearly chuckle aloud to see her gaping at my now bare chest.

  “W-w-what are you doing?” she stammers, eyes drinking up every line and curve on my flesh. Her eyes linger on the angel tattooed over my heart, but I don’t give her time to ask the question.

  “This is how I sleep. Topless. You should try it,” I flirt.

  Her eyes bug out and she drags her gaze away from me. “You’re not sleeping here and I’m not getting naked.”

  I laugh as I plop down on the couch and stretch out. “Yet, baby.”

  She storms around the house snapping off lights and releasing some of her frustration. By the time she comes back, she’s cooled off. She sits at one end—like that’s going to fucking happen—and pops a piece of candy into her mouth.

  Rolling my eyes at her, I hook my arm around her waist and haul her to lie down with me. I expect her to resist but she lets me pull her flush against me with her back to my chest.

  I could get used to having this woman glued to me every night.

  The thought warms me.

  But as the movie continues and we munch on the sweets, my mind skips into dark places. The depression that I keep shoved away begins sneaking its tendrils into my head and infecting my mind.

  Thoughts swarm like nagging flies and I swat them away, attempting to stay in the present moment with her. Instead, I’m stolen and thrust into a memory I’d rather forget.

  “Mom, I hate myself.”

  My mother, with her long, wavy graying hair, frowns and rises from her chair in the cold, sterile hospital room. They’ve since moved me to the psych ward. Apparently I need “help.”

  “Son,” she says with a clipped tone as she approaches my bed. “You don’t hate yourself.”

  Bitter tears well in my eyes and I tug at the restraints on my wrists. Of course they’re unmovable. Apparently hurting yourself is frowned upon here. “I do hate myself. I should be dead.”