by S. L. Scott
Jack picks up the cue that Darcy is oblivious to, and says, "Caris would love to hear about the ring again. She wants to get a diamond necklace, but is a bit conflicted whether clarity is more important than cut—"
"Oh, it's all about the carats, Jack. I'll set her straight right now," Darcy says, playfully hitting Jack on the arm, and ignoring the fact that her fiancée just offered to walk another woman to her car. She’s either too trusting or too stupid for her own good. I’m undecided how to fault her yet.
After swinging my jacket on my arms, I head for the door. "You know you don't have to walk me. I'm perfectly capable of getting to my car all by myself," I say, calling over my shoulder.
He quickly steps next to me, and says, "I know you are. You were always very independent. Sometimes too independent."
I stop when I reach the sidewalk, the cool of the air and the heat of his words battling for a reaction from me. "Even after all of these years, why are all of our conversations full of innuendos?"
"I wasn't aware—"
"Yes, you are. You're an intelligent man. You know what you're saying, and you know what you mean."
"I meant that I wasn't aware that we had conversations anymore," he replies coolly, correcting my assumption. I continue walking, and he continues talking. "You're not going to talk about it?"
"It?" I ask, hoping to avoid this conversation from delving any deeper.
"You know what ‘it’ is. ‘It’ is the big fucking elephant between us right now." I press the key fob to unlock the rental, but he stops me against the trunk, his voice lowered to a breathy whisper. "Don't do this. Don't run away from me again. I deserve answers—"
My knees weaken from the closeness, and his breath warms me over. My mind stays strong and I strike back. "I don't have any answers for you, Chase. Okay, here, try this one on for size. I'm a coward. It was… it was too much to handle and too late. I needed to stay focused. We were a mistake."
"No, we weren't!" he says, raising his voice. "Lydia, it was… it was just bad timing. That’s all."
I feel the tears forming in my eyes, and I try to duck out from around him, but he stops me, holding me by the wrists and pushing his hips against mine, my feet between his, trapping me.
"You just said it yourself," I say, raising my voice now, anger spurring me on. "Bad timing! What else do you want me to say?"
"I want you to be honest with me.” His gaze pierces mine. “We were best friends, and you left without saying goodbye—"
"I was embarrassed."
"Of me? You were embarrassed about sleeping with me?"
"We didn't do that much sleeping—"
"Stop it! Don't belittle this conversation. I still deserve answers." His phone buzzes in his pocket, drawing his attention away from me as he looks down, reaching for it, and effectively releasing me.
Taking the opportunity to make my escape, I slip out from his grasp, and reach for the car door.
He’s reading a text that apparently takes precedence over what’s happening between us.
"You should get back to your fiancée, Chase." I feel hatred for Darcy right now. It's not rational, but I can't help it. Looking at him breaks my heart into a million pieces, and I make a vow on the spot to have a very long break from guys.
"Lydia? Please," he says. His hand presses against the driver’s side window and he stares at me as if he’ll be able to stop me from getting in the car.
With my hand on the door handle, I keep my head down, and whisper, "I was never embarrassed that I slept with you. I hate that you slept with me just because we got caught up in a game of jealousy. I always wanted it to be different for us. We deserved better than to be together out of fear of losing each other. We deserved better than that." I open the door and slide down into the driver's seat, slamming the door shut, and starting the engine. When I put the car in reverse, he takes a step back, out of the way.
As I back up, he’s waiting, so I come to a stop, knowing I owe him this much, and crack the window open.
With his fingertips holding tightly to the top of the glass, he says, "For the record, I was never embarrassed, and I didn't fuck you out of jealousy. I made love because I'd been in love with you since the day I met you in Poli-Sci class."
Before I even absorb what he just confessed to me, he walks away. I watch in the rearview mirror as he lowers his head and shoves his hands in his pants pockets.
Needing time to calm down, I sit there a moment longer with my foot on the brake. Did that really just happen? Are confessions appropriate when I have a flight back to New York tomorrow, and he's engaged? I slam my head against the headrest, and shout, "Double damn!" I burst into tears, knowing deep down it would play out like this if I was ever forced to face him, which is why I avoided coming back as long as I did.
What really pains me though, is the fact that I lost him twice. The first time because I was too stupid to see what us getting together really meant. The second time because he moved on leaving me behind. The tears flow freely and I feel our once unbreakable bond, tattered and broken beyond repair.
He's getting married.
Chapter Five
I hold true to my no dating vow for five months. It wasn't hard considering I still work ridiculous amounts of hours a week.
Sitting at home one Saturday evening, I’m popping M&Ms into my mouth by the handful and downing wine by the glassful. I miss my friends. I miss my old life. My visit home last December renewed all my friendships, all but one, of course. But I’m glad to have the other ones back in my life again. I hadn't realized how lonely I had become.
I call Caris. Four rings, and she answers, "You've got amazing timing."
“No hello,” I reply, and giggle.
“No time for hellos.”
"Why? What're you doing?"
"I'm at the wedding, Lydia."
"The wedding? Am I supposed to know what wedding you're at?"
I wait, taking another sip of wine when she finally speaks again. One word is all it takes to explain everything. "Chase's."
In an instance, I go numb. Then something inside of me finally blows, every repressed emotion bursts forth. I stand up as if that will make a difference as I make demands. "I've got to talk to him, Caris!"
"What? No! You can't do that."
"Caris, I need to. Please. Get the phone to him."
"No! He's getting married in less than thirty minutes. Don't do this to him. Let him be happy. You had your chance—"
"Bullshit! Caris Elizabeth Michaels, put him on the damn phone right now!"
"First of all, it’s Lynton now, not Michaels. Secondly," she says, running out of breath. "I'm going to do this for you, and then you're going to let it lie… forever. No more of this going back and forth stuff. He's getting married, because he wants to. He's moved on. You need to do the same. Agreed?"
"Agreed." I agree, but it pains me to do it.
I hear her mumbling to herself on her end. "I can't believe I'm doing this." Finally, I hear a knock and she says, "It's Caris." I assume she places the phone flat against her chest to muffle their voices, but I can still hear him.
I close my eyes and enjoy his deep soothing tone when he speaks to her. "Lydia?"
My mind goes blank. What am I doing? What should I say?
"Hello?" he asks. His breath is short, bordering on panicked.
I find my voice, though it's weak and shaking. My hands are shaking, too. I'm nervous. "Chase?"
"Hi. What are you doing?" He sounds nervous, maybe a bit angry now.
"I needed to talk to you, to hear your voice."
"Are you all right? Is something wrong?"
I’ve missed his concern. I want to tell him not to go through with this wedding, but I can’t. All I can do is tell him how bad I’m doing without him in my life. "I'm not all right, and everything is wrong. All wrong." I feel heavy tears prick at my eyes as my voice gets shakier with every word spoken.
He sighs loudly into the phone. "Lydia, why
are you calling?" I can visualize him running his hands through his hair right now.
"Chase?"
"Yes?"
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for leaving without saying goodbye. Please forgive me."
He chuckles softly. "I forgave you a long time ago. Um, I hate to cut this short, but I really need to go."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome." He pauses, and then adds, "Hey, Lydia?"
"Yes?" I perk up with misguided hope.
"Have a good life, okay?"
The tears steam down my cheeks as I muster everything within me to let him go. "You too, Chase." Right before he ends the call, I whisper, "I love you." The phone goes dead. He doesn't hear me, but it felt right to say it, to put it out there after all these years.
After a few glasses of wine, I close my eyes while lying on the couch, and let all the good that was our last night together, cover me in warmth and wonderfulness.
I was drunk and stubborn when we left the club, still embarrassed when I revisit the memory. "I can take care of myself, you know," I say, annoyance in my tone.
Chase smiles at me then laughs. "I know you can. You've always been very independent. But back there was more about me than you."
I continue using Chase as support as we walk toward his apartment. "Michelle said you need to get laid? Do you need to get laid, Chase?" I ask, slurring my words while accidentally swaying a little to the right.
"Come back here. You're drunk." He pulls me by the hand and tucks me under his arm securely for the remainder of the walk.
In his apartment, I pour myself a glass of water, and watch as he adjusts the lights to a dimmer setting, making it easier on my eyes. He shuts the curtains in the living room and starts some soft background music.
"Are you drunk at all? A little buzzed maybe?" I ask, just wondering because he seems sober.
"I'm pretty buzzed. Don't let the sexy swagger fool you."
"Mr. Sexy’s sexy swagger," I repeat, snorting into my water. He walks into the kitchen with his shirt untucked and his belt hanging loose. Fuck, he does have a sexy swagger. I stop laughing and watch his ass then his front as he swaggers my way.
“You’ve never called me that before.”
Raising my chin up, I reply, “I’ve never had a reason to before.”
He smirks. “Do you have a reason to now?”
My whole body is engulfed in heated, sexual Chase flames as I look at him look at me like that—Hell yes, I have a reason. “Damn straight, I do.” He reaches for my water, takes a gulp, and, as soon as he sets the glass down, I’m on him. My body lunges forward, my tongue licking the water droplets off his lips before he has a chance to do the job himself.
His hands grab my waist, and he pushes me away just enough to look at my face. "Lydia?" I close my eyes, humiliated by the lack of control with my best friend—my hot, sexy best friend. "Lydia, look at me." I open my eyes slowly, embarrassed. "What was that?" he asks.
"That was me making a fool out of myself. I'm sorry," I say, straightening his shirt by running my hands down his chest repeatedly and totally feeling his rock hard chest.
"Don't be sorry. I liked it." He grabs my hands and spins us around so he has me pinned against the counter with his impressively hard erection pressing against my stomach.
His mouth is on mine, and we kiss. Oh, holy mother of kissing. He can kiss. His lips, his tongue, his methods… I'm a complete puddle of goo. Why have I not been kissing Chase for the last six years? My girl parts tingle deep within, my body excited with anticipation for more with him.
Then, as if it couldn't get any better, he moans into my mouth. "Oh, Lydia." He caresses the sides of my face as if he can't get enough of me.
He must be feeling what I'm feeling, except my mind is still fighting with reason. This is Chase.
You can't do this with your best friend.
You shouldn't do this with your best friend.
You're going to ruin your friendship.
God, he's sexy. I need more of him.
How'd that slip in there?
"I want you. I've always wanted you," he says. His words coming out in staggered pants on my neck.
He reaches my weak spot. Just as he open mouth kisses that soft spot behind my earlobe, all my reasoning flies out the window. I throw my arms around his neck, and, not wanting this feeling to ever end, I whisper, "I want more, Chase."
"Fuuuck!" His word vibrates against my tingling skin right before he lifts my skirt up to my hips and picks me up. His mouth is back on mine, and I wrap my legs around his middle, pushing his erection directly against my hot center. We groan as he heads to what I assume is the bedroom. The friction caused by his movements feels fantastic, and my body becomes eager with desire.
We reach the bed and topple down. Our chests heave in want, but our brains in overdrive.
I look into his eyes, the blue glimmers to life with a hint of concern lacing the pupils. "Lydia?"
He doesn't have to ask the question. I know what he's going to ask. He doesn't want me to regret this as much as he doesn't want to regret doing this. If this happens, there's no turning back to what we were, and he's been the closest person to me since we met. Are we ready to be there for each other in this way, too?
He adjusts himself on top of me and hits where I need him most, making me feel so much in that one little movement. Too much, but I push the developing emotions down, give him an encouraging nod, and enjoy the physical stuff.
Chapter Six
"I volunteered for a transfer back to San Francisco this summer. The company needs a trusted executive to reform practices out there and get the office back in shape." On the phone with Caris, I try to hide my excitement, but it’s already a done deal, so I give in and let my own happiness grow. "I miss you guys. I miss my family, and that's the office where I cut my teeth."
"That's fantastic news, Lydia. I can't wait to have you back in the city again. I’ve missed you a lot."
"I've done what I can do here in New York." But what I don't tell her is that I'm not living the life I thought I wanted. Work doesn't fulfill me like it once did, and as for my social life—no one compares—and I'm seriously sick of comparing. Chase is married, and I need to accept that. But something inside of me can't come to terms with the reality. That bothersome feeling in my heart is keeping me from my own happily ever after.
"It's time for me to come home and make a life. San Francisco is offering me a normal work schedule. Caris, I'm almost twenty-seven, and I really don't want to spend the rest of my life alone. I’ve been gone over two years. I’ve put all of myself into my career. I just think it’s time to make something other than work a priority in my life."
"I'm glad to hear you say that. You're making the right decision."
We chat about which part of the city I might want to live in and all the new shopping centers springing up in the suburbs. Loneliness gives way to hope now that I know I can return home, and still have the support of my friends.
Lying in the dark of my bedroom later that night, that nagging tug in my heart works its way to my head. Chase. I can only think wonderful things about him with our history, but my tummy stirs remembering how his hands felt on my body when we made love, and how he made me feel sexy and cherished.
"I'm damned if I do you and damned if I don't," he says, his mouth crashing down on mine, making the decision for both of us as his hand slides down my body and over my hips, behind my knee and down my calf. He takes my shoe off, and then wraps my leg around his hip, repeating the process with my other leg.
I pull his belt free, and toss it to the floor before I start on the buttons of his shirt. His mouth wanders over any exposed skin he can find around my neck, but he suddenly sits up, his breath deep and heavy. He pulls his shirt off over his head, not bothering with the lower buttons and tosses it behind him.
I don’t bother masking my appreciation of his physique as he removes his pants, my sharp intake of air giving me away. The irony
is that I've seen Chase shirtless before. We've gone swimming together. We've danced closely. He's held me many a late night while watching movies. But to see him now, in a different light, in a sexual way—he’s different. I attempt to squeeze my legs together, but he’s between them before I have a chance, his hips spreading mine.
He's gorgeous. His body is beyond amazing and then that sexy smirk makes an appearance.
"What are you smiling about?" he asks. His voice is huskier than usual, and his actions confident as he brushes my hair off my face.
Feeling sassy, I say, "I wasn’t aware I was smiling."
“Do I make you smile?” Chase crawls up my body in just his briefs. He's tenting his briefs, so I can't help but wiggle against him.
“Always,” I reply, closing my eyes. As soon as I do, my head feels fuzzy as the alcohol sets in making me feel as though I’m sinking into the mattress. I open my eyes and the motion stills.
He takes my breasts in his hands, squeezing them through my shirt and bra. My smile disappears as my desire for him returns. His mouth goes to my right one, and he exhales a hot breath over the top. My hips buck, and I can hear him chuckle in response.
"Chase!" I exclaim, lifting my head up to scold him for laughing at me.
"I'm sorry, babe. I'm just kind of surprised I get to do this. I've wanted you for so long and I didn’t expect you to feel the same after all of this time."
I should really address several parts of what he just said, but when he called me ‘Babe’ and said, ‘I've wanted you for so long’ my mind shifted gears. My insides began swirling with deep emotions for him.
Chase isn't my best friend in this moment. Chase is someone I always wanted to be with, but was considered the forbidden. Now, he's a man with needs that only I can fulfill, and I have needs that only he can fulfill.
My eyes fly open, my breath shallow, and I sit up in bed. Dreaming about buried emotions weigh on my heart as much as seeing his face again like that, wanting me that way, makes my body tingle. I turn on the lamp, knowing I’ll never have Chase that way again and decide to start packing a box to take my mind off of that last night we spent together.
