by T. R. Cupak
The woodsy smell of his cologne was intoxicating. His kiss made the rest of the day seem unimportant. Being in his arms, his breath mingling with mine, as the taste of his mouth overcame me, made me forget everything else. Ansel’s hand pressed against my back. He slowly moved it up to my neck. My knees became weak when he gently squeezed there, as his other arm firmly wrapped my waist as if he knew I’d suddenly need support. When his hand slid into my hair and cupped my head I grabbed his shoulders. I wasn’t sure if his one arm hook was enough to hold me. Every nerve in my body felt as if it was focused on Ansel’s hands.
The animal-like growl that came from his chest excited me to a new level and then . . . it was over. His hand was gone. Ansel was gone. I was standing there being held up with a solitary palm on my waist, his body having moved away. I blinked as I tried to catch my breath and come back to earth.
“Jesus, don’t look at me like that.” His voice was deep, almost sexually destructive in a really good way, and I wasn’t sure how I was looking at him but right now my goal was to properly breathe again. I lowered my eyes and got control of myself, which was easier if I wasn’t staring at him.
“We need to eat. If we keep standing here with you panting and flushing those pretty cheeks of yours, I’m going to forget being a gentleman and we’ll return to the lounger.”
Oh. I glanced back at the lounger and imagined being on it, actually pinned to it, while he kissed me again. I was sure that sounded like a great idea and he knew what I was thinking.
“Sugar . . . please?” His hand touched mine. I jumped and came to attention. “Let’s go inside. Maybe without this fucking romantic setting, I can stop thinking about you naked beneath me on that lounger.”
Heat rushed to my face as my mouth opened and I shocked myself with a gasp.
“Jesus Christ, I deserve a damn medal for this,” he said as he walked towards the cabin with his hand holding mine. I had to hurry to keep up. We were almost running, or it felt like that, and it made me sad to leave behind our spot on that lake.
Even so, the way he struggled to leave it made me feel good. His shoulders were squared, taught and tensed. That made me smile. Ansel wanted me on the lounger. He’d been affected. A little giddy feeling began to grow in my chest and I became happier and happier.
Ansel was the cause of all this. I barely knew him but he made me feel different in a way Ken never did. I didn’t know all these feelings could be real. I’d heard about them in songs and read about them, but I figured that was all based in fiction. This wasn’t fictitious, though. This was actually occurring.
Tomorrow I’d deal with the rest of my life. Right now, I just didn’t care about it. I wanted to live in this moment and not be that other Sugar for a few hours. For now, I would ignore all the rules I’d set for myself. I didn’t have to spend all my time alone thinking that I wasn’t lonely. That was an issue that I needed to work on anyway. My life had to contain more than me or it wasn’t a life at all.
When he reached the back door, he opened it then let my hand go. Stepping back, he said, “After you.” I briefly looked at him, unable not to smile, and saw a slow grin spread across his handsome face. “You look smug,” he added with amusement in his voice.
I paused and replied, “Nothing smug about me, sir.”
“It’s cute, Sugar,” he said, then crowded in behind me as I strolled into the house. If I got too close, I wasn’t sure if I could keep from throwing myself at the man to plead for another kiss.
Chapter Seven
He could cook. I was beginning to wonder if he was good at everything. It seemed a little unfair for him to be sexy and also a great cook. He offered me wine with my meal but I decided water was best. I wanted to remember every second of this particular evening.
Ansel tried to get me to leave the dishes but I insisted on helping. Cleaning the kitchen together was fun. That sounded odd but he made me laugh and each time our hands brushed while loading the dishwasher I felt a small thrill.
After finishing I began to feel the awkwardness of what to do next. Should I leave? Tell him thank you for the day and go? I didn’t want to leave, but he hadn’t mentioned anything past dinner and my car was outside.
He folded the kitchen towel and laid it neatly over the side of the sink. I waited, expecting him to say something before I bumbled my words and sounded silly. For a while I’d forgotten how bad I was with other people. Making conversation was always difficult for me, but Ansel made it seem easy until this moment.
He seemed to be thinking hard on something. Perhaps how to get me to leave? I wasn’t sure I could handle the rejection although I realized that wouldn’t happen. Moving first was vital. That I knew. If I did, this time with him would remain perfect in my memory bank. I couldn’t risk him asking me to leave. There I go . . . doubting myself again. I couldn’t keep doubt out.
“Thank you so much for today, for everything, Ansel, the cocktails, conversation and nap, dinner . . . the whole works. I needed the distraction.” That was true and sounded good, like a woman ready to walk away with a smile on her face.
But before my pride in controlling myself could win over this situation, Ansel about-faced and leaned a hip against the counter. He crossed his arms over his chest and said, “That sounds like goodbye, Sugar.”
Ansel studied me, his stare displaying his thoughts and concentration. I could see that he was struggling to figure out my motive. I lifted my left shoulder slightly and smiled. “Well, I figure you are ready for some alone time and not having to entertain me.”
He brought his lips together to hide a smile but his eyes still spoke volumes. I replayed my words in my head to make sure I hadn’t sounded silly. What I’d said sounded decent.
“Right now, Sugar, I’m imagining you sitting on that bar behind you naked with your legs open for me. I’m ready to watch your skin flush from the excitement and listen to your sexy little sounds as I pump in and out of you. The fucking battle going on in my head this instant is graphic as hell and hard to shut down. If that sounds like a bad idea to you then you’d better go. I got a taste outside and if you don’t leave, I know I’m not strong enough to keep from taking what I want.”
I had a choice to make here, and I didn’t want to regret my decision. As heated as Ansel’s words made me, and as much as I would think about it when I was alone wondering . . . I couldn’t. Not now. I’d never done that with a man I’d just met. Ken had taken my virginity and I knew very little about sex. My insecurities made this decision.
“I better go,” I said, a simple response that was painful to say. If he’d offered to watch a movie or go back out to admire the moon on the lake, it might’ve slowly led to something more. But his bluntness was too much. I wasn’t sure I could do what he said. I’d never had sex sitting on a bar. Was that possible? Did people always do that?
The look of disappointment on his face made me hurt inside. I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to be scared. But he had no idea how basic my knowledge of sex was. I’d read plenty but that wasn’t doing. If I’d chosen to stay, he would’ve most likely been let down.
Ansel nodded and walked over to get my purse and keys. I watched him take his time, as if he wanted me to change my mind. I wanted to change my mind. I wished I could tell him that. When he handed both items to me, he looked into my eyes and said, “Don’t look so sad. I didn’t expect you to stay.” He softly smiled and held that smile. My knees wobbled then locked.
I wasn’t sure what to say, so I lowered my chin, which seemed like the wrong response “Thanks,” I replied, immediately wishing that I could take that back.
“You’ve already thanked me, Sugar,” Ansel reminded me, taking my elbow and walking me to the door. Without wasting a second he opened it for me. There was no more pausing or asking me to stay. My answer, for him, had been final. I wasn’t sure if I’d see him again.
With weightiness all over my frame, I left with my chin resting on my chest, forcing back the tears that
I feared would soon fall from my eyes. “Goodbye,” I said.“Sleep well,” he responded. “There’s another day to live tomorrow.”
I nodded without saying anything else. As I got in my car, I glanced back at his house, he stood casually leaning against the post watching me. I wished more than anything else that I were carefree and experienced, more like Gemma than myself. The realization wasn’t even horrifying; it was simply the truth. I pulled away and, when I looked in my rearview mirror, he was still standing there. I would never forgive myself for this.
Driving home took longer than it should have. I beat myself up the entire way. Even if it would’ve only been a one-night-stand . . . maybe I needed one of those. Of course, I already knew that I’d care too much if I did that, so I shook my head against it as if to erase the thought. We’d only spent the day together and I was already feeling something for the man. That was because I was a recluse. That had to be it. No one got attached in a few hours. That was ridiculous.
If I ever told Gemma, she’d have a field day with this, so I never would. This one I would keep as a perfect memory regardless of how it turned out. Gemma knowing would ruin that. She’d make it into something cheap and I knew this wasn’t cheap. It couldn’t be. Ansel had been honest. Blunt. He didn’t want to make a mistake. He cared, maybe not about me, but about ruining the time we’d had before the awkwardness began. The more I thought about it, the more I began to think he’d been blunt to get me to leave. So it wouldn’t be remembered as just a little talk and sex.
I sat for a moment after parking outside my apartment, unready to go inside and begin to think about tomorrow and what I was going to do now that today was gone. As long as I sat in the car where I could pretend I still smelled him. He’d kissed me, touched me and made me feel things that I’d never felt before. I was alone, smiling in the car like an imbecile. If this was what the lonely were searching for, then I understood. I comprehended their search, because this felt . . . like nothing else. I had nothing to compare it to. It was as if I was trapped between two walls of bright light and there could never be any cold or even any thoughts about darkness. All . . . seemed . . . to be . . . light.
I was going to awaken regretting not staying with Ansel. I already did. I opened the car door, sighing with regret, before forcing myself to go inside. Time to deal with the real world. My moment of escape was over. Yet, I knew that I would relive it repeatedly before I went to sleep tonight. Ansel would become my favorite daydream.
He hadn’t asked for my phone number so when my phone dinged, signaling a text, there was no excitement to be felt. I unlocked my apartment door and put my purse on the table before taking my phone out and checking the new message.
Let me know you made it home safely. – Ansel
If my heart could leave my chest for a millisecond, simply over the excitement of reading his words, well, mine just did.
Chapter Eight
Just walked in the door.
After sitting on the sofa and curling my feet under me, I responded, staring at the phone with my lip between my teeth, waiting for his response like a crazy school girl with a crush, unsure if I’d get one. After all, he was a cop. It was his job to keep people safe. But, he had my number and I hadn’t given it to him, so he had to have gone out of his way to get it from somebody.
I’ll go back inside now and give up any hope that you’re gonna turn around and come back to me.
I think I may have giggled. I was thankful no one was witnessing this. I was even more thankful that Ansel couldn’t see me. I needed to respond. I was better with the written word than having to speak to someone. After taking my time, I finally replied.
I thought about it a few times. But I made it back here before I could turn around.
I read through it three times before pressing send. Was it even normal for me to be this excited about text messages? Was this a sign that I needed to get out more? Surely it wasn’t healthy for a grown woman to get this worked up over a few comments.
You seemed determined to go. If I’d thought there was a chance for you to stay I would have tried a little harder to convince you not to go.
We were flirting. Text flirting. The smile plastered on my face was nothing compared to the joy I was feeling. I tried not to overthink this like I did everything else.
It’s probably best that you didn’t. I didn’t want today to become a memory about a one-night stand. I would’ve been a disappointment.
I sent the first sentence after deciding the other contained too much information. No need to blab about my lack of experience. The safety of a text message where I didn’t have to hear voices or see faces with their expressions often made me brave. I wanted to see him again. Ansel had my number. The chances of me seeing him again were multiplying by the minute.
Tell me, Sugar, why is that?
His response made me nervous. I shifted into a more relaxed position. Grabbing a blanket from the back of the sofa, I covered my legs. I wanted to explain myself without opening my past to the vulnerability that I was feeling. Last night when I’d gone to bed, I’d been thinking of Ansel, never imagining that tonight I’d be texting him having already kissed his lips. This all seemed so unreal. I didn’t want to screw it up by saying the wrong thing or a series of the wrong things.
For starters we’d just met.
My response was basic and truthful. It protected me from my fears and insecurities. His next pause was longer than the others. I frowned, thinking I’d said the wrong thing. I didn’t think that it sounded like a bad response. When the phone lit up again, my lip was almost bleeding.
Technically it was our second meeting. And it felt like I’d been waiting on you for a fucking long time tonight when you were standing in my kitchen looking at me with those crazy beautiful eyes. I couldn’t think of one reason that it was a bad idea. When you walked out the door my, heart split just a touch. That . . . pained me.
“Oh my God,” I whispered to myself in the darkness of my living room. My heart pounded in my chest. He had me all tied up in knots with a paragraph. Ansel hadn’t held back a thing in his response. He wasn’t trying to say what he thought I wanted to hear. Again, he was blunt, honest without care, which was completely different than what I was used to. Ansel threw his cards on the table.
Does it help that I regret it?
I typed and sent before I could add anything else. I wasn’t ready to be that honest yet. He was braver than me. Ansel had more confidence. I had almost none. It was easy to be more confident than me. That wasn’t even a challenge.
No, that makes it harder. I’m going to go to sleep wishing I wasn’t alone. You’ll be in my dreams.
I closed my eyes and squealed. I wasn’t sure I’d ever squealed before. Like this. Doing this. I didn’t want to say something stupid. I thought about it a moment before preparing my response.
You’re making me blush. I’m not good at flirting. I don’t do it that often or get out much.
After deleting the last part, I sent it and waited. My mind plowed through a thousand possible responses. As the time continued to drag on with nothing from him, I imagined he’d fallen asleep, which meant I was boring him. I suppose he’d gotten tired of texting and just ignored it. I typed several things to further explain . . . then I deleted them.
Eventually I slept, clutching the phone in my hand, wondering what I’d done to end our texting. Was this a one-and-done flirt? I couldn’t be sure. Maybe Ansel had decided I wasn’t his type. If I allowed that to haunt me in my dreams it would do just that. And that’s exactly what happened.
Chapter Nine
Nothing. No text. No call. Not a thing.
For two whole days, every time I even thought I heard a ding, I grabbed my phone. Most of the time it was someone else’s phone close to me. At the store while helping Eleanor clean up, my heart sped deliriously whenever the door opened and someone came in. Of course, it was always workers that Eleanor hired, because the store was closed. I hoped, perhaps, the
re would be more police business, maybe something Eleanor needed to sign and local law enforcement would come.
By day three, I was done. If Ansel had shown up, I wouldn’t have cared. I stopped repeatedly grabbing my phone. I even missed a few texts from my mom and Gemma, not realizing I was being dinged. The blissful afternoon and evening with Ansel, when I’d thought I might have found something real, were gone, like an illusion of sorts. Ansel had obviously played a game he probably often played. I bet most girls ended up in his bed, so when I didn’t, he moved on.
That thought made me dislike him and made the memory of our time together seem inauthentic. Though I wanted to hate him, I couldn’t. He’d made me feel too much, made me want more. I wasn’t what he was interested in when it came down to it, yet I was sure he’d saved me from any future heartbreak. I’d sadly fallen for a stranger.
“I have a buyer,” Eleanor said, sounding pleased and a little relieved as she ended her call. I knew it was coming but hearing it still stung. No, it was threatening to break me. For her sake I forced a smile. “Great. That was quick,” I replied, speaking without actually thinking.
“I know! The broker called two days ago and he told me that they might have a deal. I thought for sure it was too good to be true, but here we are.” She stood and threw her arms skyward, pure joy painted on her face. “Go home. Relax. Enjoy your day. I’m going to leave and go watch some daytime television while eating chocolate with my feet up.”
