by Amber Burns
Astra shakes her head. She’s refusing to look at me, likely as it’ll break that tight concentration of hers. “I can’t. It’s not right.”
“Because you think it’s bribe money, or you’re afraid someone else will?” I bend my knee resting it on my seat as I shift to face my back towards my door. I need to be looking at her for this.
Astra’s surreptitious glancing doesn’t fly over my head. I soften my tone, seeking a sense of calm. “That was uncalled for.” I apologize. We’ve both been doing that around each other a lot. “That said, I also had no design for bribery,” I shift to face the front window too. It’s getting harder to look at her.
We’re quiet for a moment then Astra pipes up, “I did enjoy the chocolates.”
I glance over and seeing that I’m her captive audience, she continues, “They tasted fine after they thawed in the microwave.”
“The microwave? That’s new.” My smile encourages her to lift her own lips.
I look out the window, my gaze landing on a familiar ornament up ahead. I thought I’d been driving aimlessly, but apparently I’m hardwired for Orange Compass.
“Want to take a quick walk?” I’m asking, not waiting to hear her answer fully. I pull the key from the ignition and hear Astra climbing out her end, her car door closing. I meet her on the pavement, or what the snowplough revealed of it, and my hand naturally settles over her mid-back, gloves brushing her wool coat.
Astra isn’t shifting away, so I keep my hand there as I lead the way.
I’m hyperaware of her puffing breath, the fruity smell of her hair and her soft body under the outer layers. Her chest is rising and falling by the time I confirm the old, bright red shoelace tied around the vintage lamppost marking the end of Main Street.
The neighborhood unfolding in front of us is silent. No kids are stirring out on the lawns, parents no doubt keeping them housebound from the weather’s harshness.
It’s more brown now then red, the elements and the years turning color but preserving the memory as fresh as feeling the cold metal around my thighs and my slippery fingers losing the grip several times on the shoestrings, arms sore from pulling the lacing them tight before sliding down –
“Ryker?” Astra’s closer, turning to me. I can feel her breath reaching my neck, washing heat over me and stirring my cock to attention.
“We’ll walk a bit and then I’ll take you back to your car. I want to sort out this money stuff.”
“I’d like that, too,” she concurs. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like you were trying to buy me off or something. But I don’t feel comfortable with taking your money.
“And like I said, I know Holly wouldn’t accept it either if she knew. Which is why I called you out in the first place,” Astra says. “Holly’s getting suspicious, too. If she finds out she’ll say the same thing.”
“And?” I’m staring around, taking in my childhood neighborhood, but still sensitive to Astra’s proximity. “Why are you offering to pay in her place? Oh, and don’t tell me that’s what friends do.”
Astra’s hesitation brings me back a hundred percent. She pops out her lip and explains. “Holly’s new like me, only she came here about a year ago after she finalized her divorce with her husband. It’s been hard for her raising her son, Liam and working from home.”
I nod. “Sounds like she’s got her hands full,” my sympathy genuine having been raised in a similar situation, minus the self-sufficient entrepreneur of a mother. I push my thoughts back, feeling a bit selfish to be wallowing in my pity when Astra’s sharing Holly’s story with me.
“He isn’t helping Liam either.”
“Financial troubles,” I fill in, nodding. “And you don’t have your own problems?”
I’m ready to smack myself at the wording, an apology and correction at my tongue when Astra smiles sadly.
“I don’t have a family to worry about, like Holly, so sparing money isn’t a problem.”
Me, too, I think, my hand doing the talking and comforting for me. Slipping around the side of her waist, I bring her to a stop with me and she pauses, rapture claiming her features, opening her eyes and mouth.
I cup her cheek and I feel, see her rigidity setting in. Riveted describes her stare perfectly. I’m sure if I concentrate I can see the pulse at the base of her neck.
Freaking happy to see she’s as affected as me, I still the caresses of my thumb and move to meet her lips. Astra’s soft jerk initiates my hand to slid into her hair and grip her skull, keeping her in place, locking her to the inevitable.
Our lips are a hot mesh, my other hand holding Astra by her back, pushing her against me, relishing in the feel of her softer body yielding to mine. Her moan vibrates through me and I respond with a groan.
She moans again when I grab her ass, my dick stiffening at the plump flesh in my palm. I break our contact and give us a chance to breathe – well, give Astra a chance to breath; I’m busy peppering kisses over her jaw up to her ear where I dash my tongue up her shell and grab the tip between my teeth.
Applying light pressure, I tug and release.
I find her mouth again, her lips swollen and glossy from our first slippery lip lock. My tongue wriggles to the fore and I’m pleased to gain entrance on contact. She’s jumping into this with both feet, returning my duel in her mouth with everything she’s got.
“Astra.” I grunt her name when she’s rubbing her lower belly over my cock. There’s all the clothing between us, but my body on fire still. I’m about this close to tossing off my coat and peeling off her layers, anything to get to her body. Burning up as I am, the rational part of me knows I have no way to cool this off.
Considering having sex on the street is not an option.
A memory comes to mind as I disengage our latest kiss, I’ve lost count.
A woman in the twilight leaning against a white fence – like the kind behind Astra, and this dark-figured woman is embracing a shadowy man, her coat slipping off her shoulder, revealing an expanse of bare tanned flesh. The man is shielding her from the weather and from the world, but her sensual cries pierce the fog of the memory catapulting me into Astra’s arms.
She’s soft and warm, her lips right in front of me.
“Ryker,” Astra’s voice sounds far away. The ringing in my ear blocks out the rest of her words. Her mouth’s moving but I’m disconnected. To top it off, little dots of red sprinkle through my vision and I close my eyes, losing the image of my red-haired rescuer all together.
When I open my eyes, and blink away the fuzziness of the receding tunnel vision, I realize we haven’t moved. What felt like an eternity was likely a minute of panic. The attacks are shorter these days, even though they remain as strong as if I built a time machine and flipped the dial to relieve my shit-fest of a past.
“Are you okay?”
I nod once, hating the vertigo that comes with the gesture.
“Breathe. Just breathe,” Astra says as she smoothes the hair from my face, her fingers gentle and dedicated to their task. It’s has to be the kisses we shared, otherwise it’s unlike her. Yet, something about her gentleness suggests she’s done this before, many times.
How else could she look at a grown-ass man having a panic attack without disgust, or personal concern for her well-being?
Instead understanding brightens her eyes, rings from her voice as she asks again after my health.
“I’m fine.” I try to make it final, but like my attempt to pull from her, I don’t give it my all, failing before trying. I like how she’s holding me, even if it’s not doing my back any wonders. I’m leaning down, my head resting on her shoulder, hearing rather than seeing the smile in her words.
“It’s shock from the cold,” nudging my head up she peers into my eyes, her sweet breath smelling faintly of the sweet coffee mixture she was drinking. I finally blink, my contacts drying out from staring at her, memorizing those green flecks in her brown eyes.
Her phone ringing that jazzy tune drops h
er hands and draws her away, from me. “Holly?” she’s quiet for some time, and then she says, “Okay. I’ll see you soon then.”
“What’s the matter?” I ask. I want to focus on something else, afraid she’ll provoke me to divulge all my secrets if she gets me in another embrace.
“Holly wants to see you. Well, she asked about you. I didn’t tell her you were with me.”
“I think it’s better if I talk to her now.”
Astra purses her lips as if she’s considering a rebuttal. The thought of being alone and bored and adding the company of these memories forces me to say, “I’m going to have to explain myself at some point. It doesn’t feel right if I avoid your friend and leave her with some misconstrued guilt.”
That does it.
Conceding to my wish, Astra nudges her head towards the car. There’s a jerky quality to her movements, like she’s just realized we came down from mauling each other.
“You can drive me back to my car and, uh, I guess you can follow me to Holly’s,” she sounds weird…nervous.
I’m tingling from the vestiges of the panic attack. But it’s nice to cling to the idea of breaking her professionalism, driving her as wild as she does to me, simply by standing there.
“Let’s take my car for now. We’re only visiting, and then I can bring you back to your car. I’m going to be heading back that way anyways.”
“All right,” she says, once she’s through thinking it out. I’m realizing she’s more analytical than intuitive.
But what about all that kissing, my mind nags.
It’s true. There was nothing calculated or methodological about what transpired between Astra and me. It was red-hot chemistry at best and pure animal attraction: I wanted her and she wanted me, and consenting adult that we are, we gave in to the too-strong natural currents rip tiding us together.
I stop thinking as Astra is moving towards me. Not for a second round surely? Lifting her purse, a demure deep blue today, over her shoulder, she grabs my arm and locks it through hers.
I’m surprised given I expected at least some time to pass for her braving another touch. Yet here she is, doing the honors for me.
“Just in case,” she says as way of explanation.
We head to my rental that way, locked arms until we split to take our respective seats. Astra navigates me straight, and I get the drive-by of my neighborhood and a passing glimpse of the house…
I keep my eyes focused on the rough roads before us as number 75 gives away to house number seventy-three and then Astra points out the turn from the street we’re on.
“Turn here next,” she says, and I feel her survey. “Do you want me to drive?”
“I’m fine, I promise.” My lips pull up into a tiny grin. “I thought I could handle you, my mistake.”
Astra squeaks, but remains silent, shifting out her discomfiture. I sneak a peek at her red cheeks, wondering if it’s the remnants of our trip outside or the heat of my comment.
When she speaks again it’s to navigate me to Georgia Drive’s number twenty. I see Holly’s sedan and park by the curb.
Astra waits for me to lock up and round the hood to her side. She takes the lead this time, ringing the front door and answering Holly’s loud ‘coming’.
A blanket covering her shoulders, Holly greets Astra first, seeing her friend before realizing there’s a plus one. Me.
“I wasn’t expecting guests,” she says for the second time, leading us into her den. I don’t miss the glare she tosses Astra’s way, the latter giving a sheepish smile.
The den is small, but the nautical décor brightens what could have been an otherwise dingy part of the house. There is a bowl of soup in a wooden meal tray on the modern wood and steel coffee table.
The blue-and-white striped cushions behind Astra and me on the white settee are comfy as well as stylish. I make a note to ask Holly who put everything together in her little living area.
“We haven’t met properly,” another look at Astra before she holds out her hand, “I’m Holly Chandler.”
“Ryker McBride.” I shake her hand. Not releasing my hand during the appropriate time space, Holly leans up and locks me into her baby blues.
“Have we met before? Cliché as it sounds, I feel like I’ve seen you, before now that is.”
Crap. Shit. Fuck.
“He doesn’t live here,” Astra says. I nudge my head at Lola’s counsellor.
“I don’t live here.” I repeat, smiling to cover for the litany of curses streaming through my head.
Relinquishing her power grip, Holly drops into the arm chair and draws up her legs. “So? Where are you from, Ryker?” she doesn’t need to be coaxed into the first-name basis like Astra.
“City of Angels…and traffic and heatwaves and noise pollution,” I say.
Holly’s surprise matches Astra’s. “Really? I’ve been to L.A. once, a family trip when I was fifteen, never got around to going back even though I fell in love.”
“City girl through and through,” Astra sighs. “I miss Columbia for the noise and the lights and the people.”
“City-sickness,” Holly’s solemn expression turns to me. “It’s how us gals bonded. I’m from Newark.”
“What brought you to OC?” other than learning she had a recent divorce, I’m genuinely curious. I like what I’ve seen of Holly so far. That and she’s a friend of Astra, the only thing else I know other than her being a counsellor at St. B&J and a fantastic kisser.
“OC?” Astra and Holly ask together.
“What the locals call Orange Compass,” I roll my shoulders back, trying at nonchalance.
Neither of them runs with my slip and Holly answers, giving me the brief on her event management business and how a run-in with one of the mothers at St. B&J led to a profitable income for one party. “After that I looked into the school and threw my cares to the window. Small town life has its perks. Astra doesn’t agree.”
“What?” Astra grounds from her reverie. She looks my way and the embarrassment twists up her lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I like Orange Compass.”
“Yes, you like to hate it.”
Holly’s teasing is stopped when she fetches us refreshments.
“I hope you don’t mind settling with hot chocolate. Unless you’d like something stronger, and I think I have a bit more white wine for that.”
“No, hot chocolate’s good.” I grab at the mug she’s offering me on the tray. Astra takes her and pauses when Holly says, “I thought you could use a boost though.”
“Holly,” she starts, her mouth popping open, her brow doing that cute little furrowing thing.
“Relax, relax. I’m kidding. I didn’t spike the chocolate.” Holly’s grin doesn’t exactly match her words.
Astra eases back into the couch, sipping at the chocolate and after smacking her lips and concluding its san alcohol, she enjoys a longer taste.
A loud thud above has all three of us looking up.
“Sorry about that,” Holly sighs. “My son, Liam,” she says to me, shaking her head, tasting her hot chocolate before continuing. “Remember my jewelry box. Liam’s clever idea,” another exasperated sigh fills the short silence. “I’ve grounded him on principle, of course, but kids will be kids in some way.”
Liam is moving around again, another thud carrying down to the first floor.
“I can go check on him,” Astra is setting down her mug, but Holly holds up a hand.
“It’s fine. He’s throwing a tantrum. It’s like clockwork.” She rolls her eyes. “He thinks if he keeps that up I’ll be irritated enough to call it quits on the grounding. Like that’s going to happen.”
There’s a beat of pause and then Holly tilts her head, her eyes glinting. “Speaking of, how did you get that old man owner of the pawn store to give this back?”
“I,” I’m at a loss for words is what I should say. I feel Astra’s stare, too. My neck is warm and prickly, sweat sitting under my collar, and I’m
reaching to loop two fingers under the V of my long-sleeved shirt.
Remembering I still have my coat on, I pull it off and adjust in my seat. “I appealed to his good nature.”
“Why do I get a sense there’s more to it than that?” she’s scratching her chin, clearly cooking up a new angle to get information. Torture by hot chocolate and warm hospitality, and I’m good to giving her whatever she wants.
“Did you know him?” Holly supplies finally.
“Before sunny Cali, I used to live here, in Orange Compass.”
“That makes sense,” she’s only getting started. “So you knew him and what? You told him to back off?” a light sparks her eyes as she adds, “No, wait, don’t tell me you punched him?”
