by Ashley Beale
We all three start in on the food that Emily made, and it's the best meal I've had since arriving in Florida, even better than that steakhouse Brenna sent me to.
Once it's finished and the table is cleared, Emily goes and grabs the deck of cards. Since she put everything in a place around the house, I have no idea where anything is. I think it's going to take me a month to figure most of it out, and half it if will probably be put somewhere else. I'm thankful just the same that she did what I wasn't able to do. I'm not sure how I'm going to handle her heading back home.
Sitting at the table, Brenna peeks over at me with a bashful smile. "I'm not sure how to play," she admits. There is something different about her. She doesn't seem as... distant.
"I'll teach you, no worries."
"I should probably teach you," Emily chimes in as she rounds the corner from the hallway. "I'm a lot better at it than him."
"She thinks she's better. What she doesn't realize is that I always let her win." I pretend to whisper it, knowing Emily will hear me. She comes up and smacks me on the back of the head before taking the seat next to me. Brenna chuckles softly.
Taking the cards from the package, Emily starts to shuffle as she tells the rules. I separate the chips as she does this. "Okay, since you're on the left of me, you have to pay what is called the small blind, and since Everett is on the left of you he has to pay the big blind." I show Brenna what Emily means. While dealing out the five cards to all three of us, she places everything how it needs to be. We do our first round of bets.
Emily continues to explain it to Brenna. "You can throw any cards down that you want, and you'll get an equal amount replaced to you. We will do one more round of bets, you can fold, pass, or bet since you go first. Once we all finish this second round, whoever has the best five cards wins the bet."
I explain the difference in folding, passing and betting. She seems to get it, so we play a fake round to show her what we're talking about. Then a second. With confidence, she asks, "So can we play for real money?"
"Sure," I shrug. "What were you thinking? A buck or two?"
"Thirty dollar buy in," Emily suggests.
"What? I said a dollar or two!"
Brenna laughs while reaching down for her wallet. "Thirty it is."
I somehow think I got hassled, but I don't say as much. "I got to go get my wallet from my dresser then."
Emily wins the first round. When we get to the second round, we keep the buy in at only ten dollars- mainly because I do know she's better and I'm going to need groceries soon. She wins the second and third round as well, I win the fourth and Brenna finally wins the fifth. Her face lights up more than ever expected when she places down her three aces and two fours.
"What?! Not fair!" Emily whines. She throws down her full house too, except she has three kings and two fives. "This is one hell of a hand!"
"But mines better," Brenna gloats.
I had a shit hand, so I toss it into the pile of discarded cards.
"Whatever." Emily instantly shows that she is a massive poor sport- she always has been. Throwing her cards to the side, she stands to stretch out. "I'm exhausted, and Momma always taught us to give up when we're ahead. So I think I'm going to hit the hay. Hey, now that you know how to play, you should do some strip poker. As long as you keep the noise down." She winks at Brenna as she grabs her winnings and wallet from the table. "Night y'all." She walks off like she didn't just suggest something that leaves my throat dry.
Brenna peeks over at me with pink cheeks, and I love that the idea of us getting naked together causes her to blush. However, I know that isn't how I want to spend my evening with her. Well, actually, I'd love to be naked with Brenna- but not yet, I tell myself. She deserves romance. I've never been that kind of guy, but I've also never met a girl that makes me want to be that kind of guy.
"She's relentless," I admit.
Brenna nods. "I've noticed. I like it though. She's great. Where does she live?"
"Virginia."
"Is that where you're from?" Brenna asks.
"Born and raised."
"Wow, so this must all really be different for you."
It's more of a statement rather than a question, but I answer it anyways. "Yeah, it is, but it has its perks."
The pink hue on her cheeks darken and she looks away, glancing around my place. "It looks good in here. You decorate or Emily?"
"Emily, definitely. I don't have a knack for that kind of thing."
"Me either." She scrunches her face up. "I had to hire someone to come decorate for me."
I think back and she didn't have much for decor. A few nice pieces of art- at least, I think they were nice. Probably expensive, given her taste in everything else. She had the one photograph, but nothing else that was personable. Then again, she mentioned foster care. She didn't have anything else that stuck out to me. Normally there are a few things that stick out to me- it's my job to notice. Now I want to go back into her condo and nitpick it.
Not knowing what more to say, I decide to dig in where I probably shouldn't, but it's a previous question she's avoided, and given the fact she can openly admit she's rich enough to hire a decorator, especially growing up in foster care, I decide to ask once more. "What do you do for work? You seem to be pretty successful in whatever it is."
Her eyes quickly fixate back on me rather than around my living room. I see a fear in them, and I'm not sure I like it. "I work for Panama Studios."
"Isn't that a film studio?"
"Yeah," she nods her head. "I have a list of clients, and I help book them gigs. Usually nothing too big, but once in a while we hit the jackpot."
"So you're a filming agent? I didn't realize you could do that in Florida. Do you get paid on commission?" After a second break, I add in. "I don't mean to intrude into your business, I'm curious. You seem to be well off for your age."
"I get a regular pay and commission, yes."
"How long have you been working there?"
"Three years," she answers.
"Wow, so you must like it."
She nods softly. "Most days."
"Long drive for work," I add in.
"It's worth it. You've seen my car, right?" She smiles, but it isn't full of life like many times before. "Plus, it's better than being cooped up all day long like you."
"That is true.” Which is a lie. “Want another beer?" I ask, while standing up. Together we've polished off most of a twelve pack.
She looks down at the last bottle she had, shaking her head. I enjoy the way it makes her hair sway back and forth. "I've had more than enough actually."
"What is it that you do for fun?" I ask when I enter back in the room, twisting the cap off another bottle for myself.
"Meet strangers, get drunk with them, then lose all my money at poker." She smirks, but the investigator in me knows it's because she's not admitting her truth for a reason. She's trying to cover it up with playful mockery. I have to avoid digging into the reasoning at the moment. I wish she were straightforward with me about so many things, rather than covering it all up, but I guess that is half the reason I become infatuated with her. "What about you?"
I play it off too. "Invite beautiful women into my place to have drinks and hand over their money." I wink before washing back some of my beer.
When she throws her head back in a fit of irresistible laughter, I realize she does find comfort in me. This is a part of Brenna I have been wanting to see, with her walls crumbling down around her. I'm not sure if it was something Emily did, or me, or a combination of us together, but things are finally starting to feel right.
"So how many women have you brought back here to get drunk?” She asks. She wants to play it off as a joke, but I can hint the true curiosity in her tone.
I make sure to let her know it's a joke. "Since being in Florida, ah, at least fifty. Only one of them let me take full advantage of her though."
"Enlighten me."
"Wanita, hot damn. She remind
ed me of the teacher on Matilda. That girl was feisty."
"So I'm in competition with Wanita the feisty Trunchbull, huh? I don't think I could ever compare."
I don't think she realized her words- in competition. I hardly heard anything she said after that. She basically admitted to me something I didn't think were much of a possibility. She obviously has some feelings for me, even if it's simply being interested in me. All joking aside, I make sure to let her know. "You're in no competition. There could be a hundred girls lined up outside my door and all I would see is you."
Maybe I put it on her a little too thick. Maybe taking the road of honesty was too much for her. She clears her throat, sliding the chair back as she reaches for her wallet and keys. "You're sweet," she says. "I had fun tonight. Thanks for thinking of me."
As she starts to head for the door, I place my beer down to walk after her. "I'm sorry if I crossed the line. I just didn't want you to think there was any possibility of another women. I know I don't know you that well, but I want to."
She pauses when she reaches the door, taking a deep breath before facing me again. "You really don't, Everett. You are kind, and handsome, and funny. I like you. In a better scenario, I'd allow this to happen, but I'm no good for you. I'm poison."
"Stop..."
"No. You need to hear this. I have a lot of baggage. I have a horrible past I couldn't begin to tell you about. My future is the same as my present. I'm not going anywhere extravagant in life, I'm always going to be this..." She looks down and back up at herself. "I don't have much of a heart. The only thing I'm capable of loving is money. No one is capable of loving me, not all of me anyways. So please, please don't make this any harder."
I step forward, hoping she doesn't walk out on me. When she doesn't move, I step forward once more. Then again, standing right before her. The emerald green of her big, round eyes look up at me with agony and fear. There isn't a doubt in her mind that everything she says is true. I hate that. I fucking hate it. No one in this world should have ever made her feel the way she does.
"If you feel like this is hard, Brenna, it's because it's worth it. Nothing worth anything in life is easy. Let me be the calm to your storm. If you don't want to be rescued, I won't try to save you, but I'll be the arms that hold you when you decide to fold into yourself at the end of the day, and I'll be the same set of arms that'll carry you to all of your potentials. You need to at least try and let me in, whether it be a day at a time or all at once. I can handle history and pain, I can handle heartache, I can handle a lot more than you realize, but what I can't handle is you criticizing yourself. Your scars, both past and present, make you who you are. And if I can say so myself, you're pretty damn amazing."
Real tears starts to form in her eyes, but she doesn't smile with them, so I can't tell if they're thoughtful, happy, surprised tears like I had hoped for. Instead, I think she may actually be sad. I don't want to hurt her, hell, I don't even want her to hurt. I had imagined her throwing her arms around my neck, thanking me, and then sharing a passionate kiss together. None of that went according to plan.
Instead she takes a step back, nearly flush against my door, ready to leave. I step towards her once more as she shakes her head back and forth. She's trapped between me and the exit. "Everett... You don't understand," she starts to plead with a heavy voice.
I come forward, my lips mere inches from her. I will her to say something more but she doesn't. She doesn't push me away, or tell me to stop, but she also doesn't give any indication she wants me to kiss her. I don't think she would if she wanted to. She's been telling herself for far too long that she isn't worthy of this. I am going to do everything I can to prove her wrong.
Placing my hand on her cheek she slightly flinches but she doesn't look away. I watch as she swallows her nervousness. I probably shouldn't enjoy it so much. "Brenna," I whisper her name. Her eyes take me in. She watches me closely, waiting for what more I need to say to her. "I'm going to kiss you now."
Her head starts to pull back ever so much, but with my hand on her cheek, I slide it to the nape of her neck, lacing my fingers through strands of her hair. She doesn't fight me off, so I pull her to me. Our lips glide simultaneously against the other. She holds reserve with her mouth, but when I give more push, she pulls. Her kiss becomes needier with mine. She's enjoying it. With that, I run my tongue along her mouth, waiting for her to accept my plead. She opens her mouth willingly.
I didn't know a kiss could surrender me quite like this. The intensity leaves me wanting more.
I push Brenna against the door. My other hand runs along her hip, which starts to bend. She wraps her leg around mine, bringing me as close to her as two clothed people can be. My body grinds against her. Every part of me is standing on end, my nerves are starting to tingle. I want more of Brenna. I want all of her.
As fast as my pants start tighten around my dick, she pushes me away. Her hand instantly covers her mouth as she pants breathlessly through the gaps of her fingers. Her eyes linger on mine. She's panicked- but I can't tell if it's because she wanted it or not. I don't apologize, because in no way do I regret it.
"I should go," her words rush out.
"Please... don't."
We both stare for a moment before her hand drops from her mouth. "This can't happen again." Now that she isn't as breathless, I can hear the emotion laced in her voice. Fuck! I hope I didn't screw everything up for good. "You're a great guy, but..."
"Stop, Brenna. Stop. Don't say anything. That was the most intense kiss I've ever experienced. Please don't say you regret it."
"I don't regret it." My relief washes away- at least some of it. "I just... I need to go."
She turns quickly to open the door, but before it can open I place my hand flat against it. Bringing my mouth to her ear, I whisper, "Can I at least walk you to your door?"
It takes a second for her to answer me. "If you promise not to kiss me again."
I step back to open the door, then we walk out together. It's somewhat awkward until we get into the elevator. I turn to look at her. Her face is flushed with lightly colored cheeks. It actually looks incredible on her. Maybe because of the fact I caused her to look that way. It's a victory in my book.
"Is this a step backward for us?" I have to ask.
She glances over at me, her eyes as round as saucers. She's been analyzing the same thing as me. "I don't know what this is."
"Can I take you on a date?"
"I don't think you should ask me things like that."
"Okay... I want to take you on a date." I smile, but she doesn't. She continues to stare at me bewildered by everything. I would like to say I wish I didn't kiss her, but that'd be an outright lie. That is one thing I'll never regret. "Friday night?"
"I have to work." She fiddles with her keys, her nervousness evident.
The door glides open when we reach her floor. She gives me a half excuse of a smile before walking down the hall. As the door is about to close, I step out to follow behind her. I can't leave this where it is. "Brenna," I call after her. She doesn't stop until she's at her door. As she pushes the key into the door, she glances over at me. I hadn't noticed until now the goosebumps lining her arms. I'm taking it as a good sign. "Come over for dinner this weekend," I continue. "I'll order take out, we'll stay in. No has to dress nice or put on an act. We can talk about anything at all or absolutely nothing. But before you decide your worth, let me discover who you are. Let me make the decision of how I feel. Because everything I've found out about you up to this point has been amazing. I know you have pain and I know you're hiding things, but you don't have to with me. I want to prove that to you."
I hate pouring my heart out like a fucking tool, but I want to wake her up from her delusionary idea of being an inconvenience in people's lives.
She seems to appreciate my effort nonetheless. Her body relaxes as the color to her face starts to return. "I don't think you know what you're getting yourself into with me. And I can't mak
e many promises, but dinner... I can do dinner. Let me look at my work schedule and I'll get back to you with when I'm able to."
"Does this mean we get to exchange phone numbers now?"
She nearly growls at my suggestion, and with an eye roll pulls her phone from her wallet. "What's your number?" I give it to her and she types something out, before sliding the phone back in her wallet. "There, numbers switched. Have a good night, Everett."
Backing away while I'm in the lead, I grin mercilessly at her. "Good night, Brenna."
Tonight was one hell of a fucking night.
*~*~*
The curtains haven't been updated since sometime in the nineties, and the duvet on the bed matches with its fading red roses and white frills on the shams. It's airy, there is a lot of sunshine in here, but I still feel closed up. My palms are sweaty. I run them along my jeans nervously, only to roll them into a fist once more. Maybe I should have had a few drinks before this.
This is my job, I've gone undercover far better than this. One time I did a six month sting for drug trafficking, and was practically a drug lord’s right hand man for the latter two months. I did a thirteen month undercover job as a tattoo artist to get intel on Paul Shilnorth, who I caught in the act of giving minors both tattoos and heroin. I've closed up shop on many different things over the years, and I'm damn good at my job.
So why am I nervous?
I know why. Brenna.
I got home last night to see her message- all it said was thank you for tonight. Nothing more, nothing less. It sent me with a mix of feelings- I'm proud that it was me that made her feel so damn special, obviously more than a lot of people in a long time. Which also pissed me off, because there is no way a woman like her should have so much self-doubt. She was brought up in foster care, that alone proves she's had a rough past, then to add in the fact that in her early twenties she's already successful. She's determined, and beautiful, and can handle her own. She's independent. She's... perfect.
