From This Day Forward

by Ketley Allison

  “All right.” He raised his hands in defeat, then stumbled to a stand. “I’m going. I’m gone.”

  “I mean it.”

  “It’s received. I’m…I won’t bother you anymore.”

  Jaw tight, Trev headed for the door. Becca flipped him the bird behind his back and Spence was panting heavily behind me, but thankfully not moving.

  But, Trev being Trev…

  He turned to Spence, the door halfway open. “Every part of me was her first. You will never know what that was like. All you got man, is my seconds.”

  Spence reared, but Trev squirreled out of there and shut the door before Spence’s fist could connect with him again. The dull thud of Spence’s knuckles against metal was Trev’s grand finale.

  “Good God,” Becca said behind us after a few seconds of silence passed. “I think we deserve some Eggs Benedict and champagne after that.”

  We all stood frozen in place, panting.

  “Guys?” Jade’s just-awoken voice carried over as she peeked out of her room, squinting. “You guys.”

  As she took in Becca with her hands on her head, Spence breathing like a bull in his boxers, and my startled expression with my robe half off my shoulders, she asked, “Wha’ happened? What’d I miss?”

  “Everything,” Becca and I said at the same time.

  Jade turned back to her room, stumbling as she started to shut her door again. “Ugh. That whiskey’s the worst.”

  #

  The best thing I could find to help ice Spence’s knuckles was a bag of frozen coffee grinds found deep in our empty freezer. I made a mental note to mention to my roommates that our lazy asses didn’t even have ice unless we scraped the frost off the sides, but priorities.

  Becca had gone to shower, and by all accounts and snores, Jade was back in bed. Spence had donned his jeans and shirt and was sitting on the couch, staring out our small main window which showcased both street noises and the block of dilapidated five-story buildings across from us. If you squinted really hard, you could catch a slivers of red and gold sunsets over the tops of the row houses.

  In his profile, Spence seemed pensive, his arms curled in his lap and nursing his right hand. I perched beside him, startling him out of his reverie, and offered up the coffee bag.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  “Let me.” I gently pressed it down on the back of his hand.

  An ambulance wail coming from a few blocks away was the only sound between us, and I chewed on the inside of my cheek, solely devoted to his knuckles and afraid to glance anywhere else.

  Spence pushed the the coffee—and my hand—off his. My throat stuck together at the implications of this—could be he angry, or over it and ready to leave—but still, I didn’t look up.

  Until his arm came around me. “Come here,” he said, and eased me into him until my head was nestled under his neck.

  Spence rocked me soothingly, his warm skin against my forehead, and that was all. No words, no questions, though he must have plenty of both.

  I felt his pulse, listened to his heartbeat, and closed my eyes, my brows tight above them. Simple comfort was not something I’d expected, or ever dealt with, in a man I wasn’t related to. I predicted accusations, questions like how could you ever have dated such an ass? Or, the worst one, I don’t know if I can be with a person who has this much emotional baggage.

  Yet, Spence did none of those things. We swayed, the cotton of his shirt soft and fragrant over his firm chest, and I’d never felt so…treasured.

  Gentle pressure met my forehead as he kissed me. When I lifted my head, my cheek came away cold. I’d been crying.

  “Hey,” he said, and wiped under my eye. “I don’t think he’s going to come back. And if he does, I’d never let him hurt you.”

  I swallowed. “It’s not that,” I said, and my voice came out choked. “I’m not…afraid of him. I’m—” Could I say it? “I’m afraid of…what you might be thinking, after all this. No, after the multiple times Trev has confronted you—”

  “Emme,” he said, ushering me against him again. This time, I burrowed deeper.

  “I’d understand,” I said, muffled. “If this is more drama than you expected. If you want to go.”

  “You keep thinking I’m gonna use any excuse to leave.” He stroked my hair. “But you’re right, what happened this morning isn’t excusable.”

  My stomach dropped.

  “—on Trev’s part. And mine for biting right into his bait. But not yours.”

  I played with the hem of his shirt, lowering my eyelids, but this time with a little more peace. I could stay in his arms for the rest of the semester, the year, my life.

  “You have such a future,” I said. “Law school, becoming a prosecutor,” I lifted out of his hold, and while it was the equivalent of coming up for air, it felt cold without him against me. “And I have all these things I want to accomplish, too. I know what it is to have something, to want it so much, except for that one person holding you back. Someone who won’t let go, no matter how badly you need to release them.”

  Spence’s brows furrowed. “And, you think when it comes to me, that person is you?”

  I nodded. “Look at your hands. And even your face.” I gently laid the pad of my fingers on his cheekbone, which was flushed red with a grazing bruise. “It’s because of you being around me that you’re hurt. If it weren’t for—”

  “I’ve been marked before.” Spence said it with such deadness that my hand froze between leaving his skin and falling to my lap. Then his eyes shifted to me. “I’ve been in fights before. I’ve even fought for girls before. Whether I was protecting or defending or just plain wanted to smash another guy’s face in…yeah, I’m done with that part of my life. It’s a rough remembrance.”

  I pressed my lips tightly together.

  Spence flexed his bruised, bloody fist. “Going back there, becoming that kid again, even for a second, isn’t something I’m proud of.”

  “I…I understand.”

  “I’m not sure you do.”

  I met his stare.

  “I like you, Emme,” he said. “And watching Trev get in your face like that, someone had to smack him out of it. And I don’t regret being the one. I’d do it again, if it meant getting you free.” Spence paused. “I’ve seen who you are, even in this one month. You’re smart, driven, and sure, you stumble drunk into random apartments every now and again—”

  “Ha.”

  “But I’ve seen you find happiness in your independence. You’re special, Emme. I admit, I judged you as soon as you came to our first tutorial with an empty notebook and a romantic Dante. I thought you were another chick skating her way through college on her parents’ money in order to land a cushy nepotistic career.”

  “Hey! I take offense to—”

  Spence stopped me with a crook of his finger to my chin. “But I was off my—usually incredibly accurate—game. You were failing Dante because you were spending all your time trying to nail a business degree on a full scholarship. You were nothing like I’d thought. Hot, yes. But snappy? Driven? Determined? You floored me.”

  “Did you just call me snappy?”

  And hot. He called you HOT, Emme.

  He smiled. “This person, right here, not only conquered the nine circles of Hell but gained the confidence to apply her kickass mind to her dream job, damn the risks. I don’t want anyone taking that away from you. Because I know what that’s like.”

  My jaw went slack in his steady, warm hold. While I was wallowing around, tripping over words and losing my tongue whenever he was around, Spence was noticing the larger arc of me, the future I wanted and the hurdles I’d lined up to clear before attempting success. Nobody I was interested in had ever seen that in me. Ever.

  But…at the same time, I wished I could truly see him, Spencer Rolfe and the inner boy inside he worked so hard to protect. Yes, I knew the better parts of him, the traits he’d so carefully crafted to become the man he was, like his abi
lity to read something and remember verbatim two days later, or the almost clairvoyant observational skills he possessed—how he could know my happiness or sadness in seconds and react to my needs with anything from a pizza to a quiet brush of his hand against mine. He gained all that and more from his past, and it pained me dearly to have no understanding of where he came from. Or why he tried so hard to keep it far away.

  I wondered if Spence could sense the hope through my caution. “I like you, too, Spence.”

  “Well, good.” He squeezed gently and let go. “Glad we cleared that up.”

  I raised my chin to meet his mouth, but he nearly made out with my teeth, I was smiling so wide. We laughed at the bonk, and he lifted me onto his lap.

  Spence held on, looked right into me, and the green stayed on the backs of my eyelids long into our kiss.

  I wasn’t sure where Spence and I were going. I had no idea why I wasn’t scared. But as days passed, then weeks, with Spence becoming part of my routine, I didn’t care. I’d see him in class and we’d share secrets across the rows, through blinks and muffled grins. In the afternoon, while sipping my coffee and prepping for term papers, I’d look forward to his texts, as ridiculous as they were.

  Spence: Saw a falling leaf today. Thought of you.

  I snickered. Are you calling me decaying foliage?

  Spence: Nope. I’m calling you that gross fall latte drink that you tried to poison me with almost two months ago.

  Me: 2 months? And I’ve made no attempts since? I’m at the coffee shop now. Need to step up my game.

  Spence: See you in 5.

  He’d meet me, and instead of finishing up my notes I’d be laughing with him over my third cup of coffee and making plans with Spence for the evening, and the next day, and the weekend.

  I’d never felt so included in someone’s life. At moments when they could, Jade and Becca would pull me aside by the elbows and wedge me in between them, demanding details. And I didn’t disappoint. Spence wasn’t a secret or something bad I was trying to hide from my disapproving friends. They loved him. Often, Becca would extend an invite to Spence to join us on our zombie nights. In fact, she relished it. I’d never heard of half of her tough-as-nuts evil dead questions that she slung at Spence after every viewing. She was vicious, asking questions like, how many hours before sundown do you have to hide? And, if it was just you and one zombie in the middle of a four-lane highway, is it better to kill it or sneak away quietly? What is the best weapon to use to kill a zombie?

  Spence would answer each with compunction. At least two to three hours, kill the lone zombie, but quietly, and a crowbar. When Becca wanted to get into the historical significance of these creatures, he’d happily engage, offering up a quip and a compliment that had even my dear Becca blushing.

  Spence was one of those people that could converse with anyone, about anything. He’d engage Jade in science-talk, and after a few months of knowing him, every detail of him, he’d still manage to surprise me. There wasn’t a subject that Spence could at least touch upon and discuss animatedly about, whether it be about cars, dolphins, biometrics, or fictional demons. And the subjects he did know about, like the law, often had me shaking my head in disbelief. I could picture his future, Spence at events and galas, regaling his surrounding company no matter what direction the conversation landed. The judges he’d impress, the opposing lawyers he’d threaten, the people, victims, he would stand up for and win.

  I was, in one word, proud of him.

  This man was a force, and he blew me away.

  Spence inspired me to pursue my dreams the same way he went after his: with cut-throat balls. I met with Ming over coffee at a local lounge to discuss her birthday wishes, and I didn’t blanche at the few contacts I had or the pressure at making this person’s twenty-first the best it could be. I sat with my laptop, clicking away with my freshly manicured nails (at Becca’s insistence that appearance was everything), and noting every single wish Ming desired. It was a lot of black. She was a spooky chick—think Edgar Allen Poe in a long-sleeved poet’s blouse and black, gold-buttoned vest with ripped black jeans and red lips—but she rocked it, and I liked her.

  That night, I banished Spence and everyone else from my life and spent the next six hours putting together a proposal, which included well-researched vendors and many phone calls. It was amazing how far one could get if you just sounded the part.

  I had an idea in the works that I thought Ming would really love, and so far, the vendors I found were on board. They were unknowns like me since all top-rated vendors were booked solid and probably definitely would never call me back, but in preparation for my application for internship at Madison PR, I’d been trolling the internet and listening with a piqued ear to any hint of an up-and-coming florist, entertainment jockey, or caterer whose young company had extreme potential. It always helped in job interviews to have in depth knowledge of the industry, but if one came with their own contacts, especially credible, fairly new ones that could lead to the potential of great things, that heightened the impression even more—at least, that was what I told myself.

  Working tirelessly, my face was flushed and my fingers were twitching from caffeine (though Jade ultimately made me switch to some ginger tea crap), but I was excited. I loved this.

  By three a.m., I made myself shut down my computer, stripped off my pants, and rolled into bed in my tank top. My mind continued its carousal of possibilities, but after a quiet blip from my phone and a peek at the text that followed—

  Spence: If you’re up like me, then we should probably both go to bed. Wish you were beside me.

  Spence: …naked

  Spence: …Or in crotchless panties. I’ll take that.

  —I rolled over in a bubble of laughter, phone held at my chest, and fell asleep with my lips tilted up.

  #

  The next evening, R&C night was at its usual raucous luster. I flew behind the bar, the zippy hummingbird providing liquored-up sustenance to all she landed on. Laurie was also there, but after our strange bonding session in a hired car, we’d reached some kind of truce and worked together in setting up glasses, pouring a line of shots and wiping down both drool and spills like pros.

  I swiped a forearm across my brow as the hours tore by and the noise increased, pouring another row of rum and cokes, but as only time can do when the person who is seriously messing with your mental acuity walks into your workplace, it slowed when Spence leaned his elbows on the bar, his sandy hair splayed across his forehead and chin cleft in full salute.

  He crooked a finger, and even though I was in the midst of wiping down freshly steamed glasses, I followed the beckon. Spence cupped my cheek, heedless of the sweat and hair-tangles that framed my face, and laid a hot, sexy kiss on me. The crowd around us roared in approval. His lips curved against mine—after he took his tongue back—and after one last peck, leaned back.

  “That was a hell of a tip,” I yelled over the noise.

  “I only kiss bartenders I find particularly sexy,” he said.

  I finished with the glass I was holding and replied, “Before I get you the requisite R and C, I have something to show you.”

  Spence had held his place at the bar with one hand on the wood, despite all the bodies pushing in. He bent forward. “Oh yeah?”

  Laurie was vigorously pursuing orders. I only had so much time, but this was important. I fished underneath the bar where our lockers were and dug around my tote until I found it. When I did, my wide-toothed smile came first as I popped back up.

  “No fucking way,” Spence said when I flashed him the (crumpled, kind of stained) paper.

  I’d waved in front of him a big, fat, healthy red B+, and with the way he regarded me over the paper, he couldn’t be prouder.

  “I told you!” he yelled. “I knew you could master Hell, and look at you, kiddo, you did!”

  “Give me a barbed whip and some dragons to ride and I’ll head right over there and become its Queen,” I said.

/>   “Dante would be flattered.”

  Spence was jostled on the left, someone hammering into his shoulder, but he remained unperturbed. My mind immediately recalled what he would title this instance of physical contact in a crowded bar—implied consent. I stifled my amusement, the fact that I could hear his explanation without him bothering to voice it, and went about pouring him a beer.

  “Wait,” he said, and placed a hand on mine before I could tip the pint. “Co— ov— re.”

  I tipped my ear closer. “What?”

  He cupped his free hand around his mouth. “Come over here!”

  Glancing to my left and right, it was impossible. The back of the bar had almost as many bodies as the front, with all hands on deck during the most popular night of the week. I’d have to hop on Laurie’s shoulders and leapfrog over Joey and Carlo, and possibly tackle poor Enrique to the side, who only wanted to collect and dump empty glasses, before making it out of the bar.

  “I can’t!” I said.

  Spence held both hands out. “You can! Right now.”

  “Wha—you mean crawl over?”

  His upper lip curled mischievously. “Come on, Sexy.”

  I barked out a laugh, still holding an empty beer glass like a dummy, and looked to Laurie like she would say something, but she was heavily involved in keeping the bar moving.

  Any second I was going to be yelled at to pour more drinks—either by my brethren or the many bodies writhing against the bar. I set down the beer glass.