Pull At My Heart

by Ellie Malouff

  “It’s just professional,” I say, but the truth is just there beneath it all and I want to tell him, because it’s honestly starting to freak me out. Eoghan’s the person I want to turn to more than anyone these days, even Cara. “Well, at least that’s what I want. He’s not always clear on that topic.”

  Eoghan bites down hard on his bottom lip and his eyes are a little stormy. Then, in a quiet deep voice, he leans across the table and asks, “Is he harassing you, Juliana?”

  I shake my head quickly. “No, no. It’s nothing like that. I don’t think my job is, you know, affected or anything.”

  “It doesn’t have to be, lass, for it still to be harassment.”

  “I know. It’s totally okay, I’ve got it handled,” I tell him, but I’m not sure that’s true. The last thing Aiden said the night before is haunting me. He didn’t call me Julie or Jules, or even Juliana. When he barked out “Miss Rodriguez,” a chill went down my spine. I keep blabbing on, “I just won’t be meeting up with him outside the office anymore. That doesn’t turn out so great, as you saw last night.”

  Eoghan looks up at the ceiling and takes a deep breath. “I know I should have shown him the door.”

  “Is that Eoghan code for punching his lights out?”

  He laughs at that and it’s a relief to hear.

  “What about you?” I ask, hoping to turn the tables.

  “What about me?” he wonders, and takes a drink of his stout.

  “Your work going well?”

  “Ah, yes, of course it is. But then again, you knew that already since you’re in the pub most nights.”

  “And the taxi situation?” I ask, which is my code for “How’s the situation with your dad?”

  “Same,” he says stiffly, and takes a longer drink this time.

  “Want to talk about it?”

  He shakes his head. “It’s a long story.”

  “I’ve got time,” I say, and reach across the table to take his hand.

  He looks up at me with the saddest eyes and then squeezes my hand. “I know you do. Not tonight, though. Let’s enjoy ourselves.”

  I nod, knowing that one day he’ll let me into his world and there’s no rush. We have all the time in the world.

  “Good evening, we’re the Stormy Crickets, and our name has never been more appropriate than tonight.”

  The audience laughs and settles in for the show.

  I have my camera in hand and start to shoot. The light is perfect and the band looks better than they ever have. They’re as excited to be here as I am.

  They start their set and sound great. Most of the time when I hear them play, it’s a mashed-up set list to keep the pub entertained, but tonight, we get to hear all their original work. It’s powerful and heart wrenching. Liam writes such beautiful sad songs about love and loss. I have to remind myself to keep taking pictures and not just absorb every word.

  The crowd seems to like it, too. Most people watch with soft eyes, sipping their beers and wine occasionally and wrapping their arms around themselves.

  I move around the venue to take photos from lots of different vantage points. Every now and again, I check in on Ruth who’s sitting at a table with the band’s merchandise. Mostly she’s staring up at Iain, and I can’t quite read her expression.

  Eoghan moves around a lot, too, which is sort of his way. He isn’t one to sit still for too long. No matter where I am, when I look his way, I notice he happens to be looking my way, too.

  Except for right now.

  Eoghan’s talking to the chef, over by the kitchen. He’s animated and into it and the chef is giving back just as much. I figure that they must know each other. After all, he mentioned him while we were having dinner. After a long talk, Eoghan pats the chef on the back and walks over to where I am with a goofy old grin on his face.

  “Hi,” I greet him.

  “Lass.”

  “What was that all about? I hope you weren’t complaining, because I absolutely loved the scallops.”

  He laughs. “Not at all. The owner introduced us. I ended up asking after his recipe and then we got into techniques.”

  “I think you have a calling, Eoghan,” I say, and take a few more photos while I wait for his response.

  “I do like it. I can’t deny it.”

  “Wouldn’t be so hard to turn Murrough’s into a place like this.”

  He tosses out a laugh, but he’s nervous. I think he’s had the same thought. He crosses his arms while looking up at the band. “They’re savage.”

  “Yeah, they’re breaking my heart with these songs. Liam is just too much sometimes.”

  “He’s a sensitive lad. Always has been. Before he got this band together, he used to play with Caitriona. She has the most gorgeous, and somehow haunting voice I’ve ever heard. They were mad about each other and explosive. All that emotion going into their songs. It didn’t surprise anyone when they ended up ripping each other’s hearts out. Most of his songs are about her…well, at least they used to be. These days, he seems to be falling in love all over the place. He does everything heart first.”

  I smile, liking that quality about him. The band shifts into a much more lighthearted song, all about falling in love.

  “Speaking of,” I say, and Eoghan nods. “This one sounds new.”

  “It is,” Eoghan confirms. “It’s all about his new girl.”

  “I met her last night. She seems nice.”

  The crowd gets really into the song. I start snapping photos, trying to capture their joy.

  When I feel satisfied, Eoghan puts his hand out. “Can I?”

  “Take photos? Sure,” I say and hand him the camera.

  He snaps a few of the band and then turns the camera back to me.

  “Stop,” I say and cover my face.

  “Why?”

  “Because we’re supposed to photograph the band.”

  “You have plenty. You should have more of you.”

  “And why is that?” I say with a little laugh.

  “Because you’re in Ireland, lass and you should have something to remember it when you go back someday.”

  That idea is like a spear in the abdomen. As much as I miss my family, I love my new home. The idea of going back to California pains me.

  “Plus, you’re a hell of a lot prettier than those lads on stage. I’m honestly surprised your camera hasn’t broken yet,” he jokes.

  I blush and shake my head a little bit as I giggle.

  “My favorite look. I love it when you laugh,” he says and keeps taking photos while smiling like a damn fool.

  “Fine, if you insist,” I reply, and make funny poses that make his smile grow even wider.

  He sets the camera down and then extends his hand to me.

  “What?” I ask, a bit baffled.

  “Dance with me,” he says.

  He looks so damn cute standing there, hopeful and modest, that I can’t resist him. I don’t think I can ever resist him. I place my hand in his and he slowly pulls me to him. We’re nowhere near the dance floor, but that doesn’t matter, because once he places his arm around my waist and brings our clasped hands to his heart, I forget that there’s anyone else around.

  We slowly sway to the song, not actually matching its pace, and it occurs to me that maybe we’re not actually dancing at all. Maybe we’re just holding each other.

  Being in his arms, I feel warm and safe, but it’s more than that. I feel loved.

  I rest my head against his shoulder and I hear him heavily exhale, as if he’s relieved. I wonder why he might feel that way, but if I dig deep and let myself really go there, I think I know. Ruth is right. Not only do I see him, but I hear him and feel him, and know him down to his core. He cares about me, as much as I care about him.

  The song ends to a rousing round of applause. We take a long time to break apart and I’m not sure who steps away first, but I’m already missing him. He picks up my camera off the table and hands it back to me, and his eyes are
apologetic.

  “Sorry I took you away from your job,” he says after he clears his throat.

  “It was well worth it,” I say and give him my most reassuring smile, and he returns one to me in kind.

  After the show ends, we help the band pack up their equipment.

  “Where’s the after party?” Marcus, the bass player, asks.

  “No after party for me, I’ve got to get back to Cork,” Eoghan chimes in quickly and glances over at me. I didn’t figure we’d stick around, but I didn’t know we’d leave so fast.

  “I’ve got bad news, lads,” Liam says while looking down at his phone. “The storm has gone bananas. They’re advising people to stay put.”

  “What?” Eoghan says and immediately fishes for his phone in his pocket.

  “Yeah, we’re here for tonight.”

  Eoghan pales and starts tapping on his phone quickly.

  “What’s wrong?” I whisper to him.

  “I’ve got to get back tonight.”

  “Did something happen?”

  He looks at me, hesitates for a moment, and then goes back to his phone. “No.”

  “Can Seán handle things?” I ask timidly, still not understanding the actual situation.

  “I just don’t feel good about it, ya know? I can’t be trapped down here.”

  “I get it,” I tell him, even though I don’t completely.

  “You stay here with everyone. I’ll pay for a taxi tomorrow.”

  “No, I want to go with you,” I tell him, because I cannot bear to see him like this and I’m not sending him off alone. “I’m coming with you.”

  Lightning

  Eoghan

  The night sky is illuminated by lightning and the thunder that follows rattles my bones. The wind is downright mental, but it isn’t anything I haven’t seen before. I’ve got two hands on the wheel to keep the car steady and I’ve got to squint a little to see through the rain after each pass of the windscreen wipers.

  Juliana is holding on to the handle above her head, and the last time I dared to take my eyes off the road and look over, her teeth were gritted. She’s being brave, not saying a word about what a gobshite I am for this. Thankfully, Ruth and Iain stayed behind, because I don’t think either of them would be having this. We press forward, slow and steady.

  We will get home to Cork tonight.

  There’s another flash of lightning so bright it hurts my eyes. In that instant, it strikes a tree, sending a ripple of electric orange flame right through it. The tree falls apart before our eyes. It all happens so fast, and I’m braking so hard right before half the tree falls into the road in front of us. Sparks and flames rush off it like the breath that escapes me.

  “Juliana!” I yell in that same instant, and I notice that my arm is holding her body back, pressing her hard against the seat. She’s shaking. I’m shaking. The rain is pelting against the windows loud and frightening, just like the organ thumping in my chest. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” she says, her voice totally shallow as she tries to breathe.

  I let her go and she leans forward to get a look at the tree that’s blocking our way. The fire is withering out because of the wet.

  Without thinking twice, I turn off the car, turn on the hazards, unbuckle my seatbelt, and reach for the door handle.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To see if I can move it,” I tell her.

  “No, no, no. You can’t, Eoghan,” she pleads. “You could get burned, or—Christ—struck by lightning.”

  “Stay here, lass,” I say, and pull the hood up over my head.

  She grips on to my arm like a vice. “No, I won’t let you. Let’s just turn around and go back.”

  But I can’t do that. I have to get back to Cork.

  “Stay here,” I say again, and go out into the storm.

  I’m assaulted by the rain, getting drenched instantly, and I’m having a hard time making progress because the wind is pushing me back so hard. When I finally get close enough, I see that the fractured tree is stretched across the road. The two of us might be able to move it, but we can’t even try yet. It’s way too hot.

  “Eoghan,” I hear her yelling from behind me, but only just barely because the wind is so feckin’ loud.

  I turn around to see her trying to make her way toward me.

  “Get back in the car, lass,” I order.

  “No, not unless you do,” she says, but she’s too small to be out here. The wind won’t have it. She can barely move on her own.

  I can’t have her out here, so I get to her quickly and take hold of her so I can put her back in the car.

  “Please,” she begs, and she’s crying now. It rips right through me.

  I don’t say anything, I just guide her to the back of the car where I have to use a considerable amount of strength to open the door, then I set her down on the backseat and follow her in and shut the door, which slams hard and fast.

  We’re both soaking wet and if she was shaking before, it’s nothing compared to now.

  “Eoghan,” she says and then crawls onto me, straddling my legs with her own, and wraps her arms around my neck.

  I hold her close and so tight that I can feel her stomach trembling against mine. I pull back to gaze at her face and sure enough, tears are streaming down. She’s still crying.

  “Shh,” I tell her. “It’s fine. It’s all fine, love.”

  She shakes her head, causing another rainstorm in the backseat of the car.

  I cup her cheek with my hand and try to soothe her again. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”

  She’s trembling as she starts to speak. “I’ve never seen anything like this. And then you went out into it,” she ends with anger. “What if I lost you?”

  “You didn’t. You won’t. I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I apologize as I wipe the rain and the tears off her face. She rests her head against the palm of my hand, closes her eyes and lets out a long breath, which causes me to do the same.

  “It’s okay,” she whispers and then opens her eyes slowly. Our gazes connect and I can see all the hurt and all the love there. Or maybe that’s my love reflected back at me. She lifts her head from my hand and I let it drop to her shoulder, and then I slide it slowly down her arm and around her back to pull her closer to me.

  She uses the opportunity to bring her own hands up to my face. She starts above my brows and then uses her thumbs to slowly wipe the rain off of my cheeks. I’m looking up at her with what can only be described as adoration. She smiles ever so slightly and then swallows. One hand goes back into my wet hair and the other hand stays put, but her thumb slides down to my mouth—my lips. They part for her automatically and she traces over them delicately with the pad of her thumb. I want to taste her, but I don’t dare move, not even a slip of my tongue.

  Her eyebrows lift for a brief moment and I wonder if it’s because she can feel the stiffness of my erection that’s pressing up against my trousers. If she does feel it, she doesn’t say anything. She just keeps tracing my lips, as if she’s deciding what to do. It’s near agony, near bliss. I can’t stop my eyes from closing as I inhale a big enough breath to make my chest noticeably rise and fall.

  “Eoghan,” she whispers, and I open my eyes. It’s not my imagination gone wild. She’s here, tucked so closely against me, holding my head and tracing my lips.

  “Juli—” But I don’t get to complete her name. She’s leaning down and we both close our eyes as she uses her lips to trace over mine. My dick screams “go, go, go” but my heart wants it to happen like this. The kiss is tender, patient, slow. It’s so far from the kisses we shared last night. It’s what first kisses are supposed to be like.

  Lightning flashes in the distance, but nothing too close. Good thing, because the only thing that could pry me away is a lightning strike. Even then, I’m not certain. Her lips are so soft and warm. It’s amazing how warm, considering the storm. Our breath mingles and I love it. So much so, I feel it all
the way down to my groin. I want everything of ours to mingle. I pull her closer to me—if that’s even possible—and shift up a bit to get some relief for my cock.

  She leans back and frames my face with her hands, taking in the sight of me as much as I’m taking in the sight of her. I brush the hair away from her face and trace down the lines of her neck. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, fresh and bare and wild from the storm. And the way she’s looking at me with heavy hooded eyes increases the pressure between my hips. She licks her rosy full lips and I’m so feckin’ hard with wanting her. Wanting her like I’ve never wanted anyone before.

  She stuns me by reaching up to her rain jacket’s zipper and slowly pulling it down. The rain is pelting against the car, but I swear I can hear the buzzing sound her zipper makes until it reaches the end. Every part of my body is on high alert. She slips it off and tosses it over to the side. Her dark Henley shirt is damp and clinging to her. Even in the dark, my eyes are wide open enough to see her stiff nipples pressing against the fabric.

  “Dear lord in heaven,” I whisper.

  I want to touch them. I want to roll them between my teeth, but I don’t get a chance. She’s now unzipping my jacket, quickly this time. I wiggle my way out and before it even hits the seat beside us, our mouths are meeting again, hungrier and more desperate. There’s more pressure, more contact. There’s more need. She starts to pull my hair between her fingers and ever so slightly rocks her hips. I groan from the compaction of her sex in all those wet layers coming down on mine and that groan elicits a sweet little moan from her. My ears are tingling and I want to hear that sound a thousand more times. A million more times.

  I run my fingers through her hair, something I’ve wanted to do for ages. It’s just as I imagined, wavy and thick. Something I could easily get tangled up in. She likes my hands there and hums against my mouth.

  And then I’m just waiting.

  Waiting for her tongue.

  I want her to make this move. I want it to be her.