Luck of Love

by Aleman, Tiffany

  Walking in, it doesn’t take me long to spot Blake. Standing behind the bar shaking a mixer, she’s laughing with an older gentleman. Moving toward her, her eyes are alight with life while she carries on a conversation with him pouring his drink. Pulling out a bar stool our eyes lock onto each other as I take a seat.

  Gasping, her face twisted with confusion she says, “Landon,” it comes out more like a question than a statement.

  “Hey Blake,” I say with a smile, liking that I caught her off guard.

  “What are you doing here?” She asks, still not understanding why I’m here.

  “I wanted to see you and apologize again. We didn’t end our conversation on the best of terms the other day, and I wanted to apologize in person this time rather than over the phone,” I reply candidly.

  Arching an eyebrow, she asks suspiciously, “Really? That’s why you came all the way here from New York City?” Her hands go to her hips adding, “Because I think you’re full of shit.”

  Laughing at her reaction to me showing up I say, “No. Really, that’s why I came out here.” Shrugging my shoulders, I add, “Plus, you said we’re friends, right? Well I haven’t seen my friend in a couple of weeks, so I thought we could hang out.”

  “Landon, I’m working, and I don’t get off until two in the morning. How am I supposed to hang out with you, and you still drive back to the city tonight?” She says sighing.

  Looking around the bar and replying, “I’ll just hang out here with you until you get off and then I’ll get a room for the night.”

  “That’s ridiculous. You could stay with me and Dean. It’s pointless to waste that much money for only a few hours of sleep. You can crash on the couch. That’s if you want to,” she offers.

  “Thanks. I appreciate it,” I say.

  Nodding once, she asks, “You want a drink?”

  “Anything with tequila in it.” I answer.

  Smiling, she asks, “Do you want a shot or a mixed drink?”

  Grinning back, I say, “Something mixed. Surprise me.”

  Turning around she mixes me a drink. Handing me an orange colored drink with a hint of red in it, I ask, “What’s this?”

  Her lips on the left side of her face tug into a grin as she says, “A Tequila Sunrise. I promise you’ll like it.” Taking a drink, I let the flavors wash over my palate, damn this tastes good. “What do you think?” she asks.

  “It’s good. I have one question though,” crossing her arms over her chest pushing her breasts up, I almost don’t see her narrowing her eyes at me when I quickly add, “How much tequila did you put in it?”

  A smug grin plays on her face as she leans in close to me whispering, “I’ll never tell.”

  The bar empties since it’s almost closing time. Looking at my watch, I see it’s a quarter after one in the morning. Getting up and off my barstool, I yell out to Blake as I walk to the pool tables, “Hey, come shoot some pool with me.”

  A small blush creeps onto her face as she shakes her head adamantly, “No, you don’t want me to play, I suck.”

  “Come on, you can’t possibly be that bad, and if you are I’ll help you out,” I retort.

  “Okay, one game and that’s it,” she says sighing and rolling her eyes. Bypassing the pool table and me, she walks over to the wall picking her pool stick and chalking the tip.

  Aligning the balls in the triangle, I roll them against the felt packing them tightly together. “Do you want to break?” I ask.

  Cocking her head to the side she says, “Yeah I guess. Since you’ve already racked the balls and coerced me into playing.”

  Leaning over the table to aim, she pulls the stick back, taking a shot she misses the balls completely. Chuckling and shaking my head, I walk up, leaning over her body. Sliding my hand down her arm, I show her how she should properly hold the pool stick. “You’re holding the stick with too much pressure. It should glide through your fingers just like so,” I say against her ear. Hooking my fingers over hers, I show her how much pressure she should place on the stick. Her body relaxes underneath mine when I look down at her head angled to watch me instead. Gazing down into her beautiful green eyes, slowly I lick my bottom lip telling her, “You probably should pay attention to what I’m showing you.”

  Darting her head back in the direction of the pool table she says breathlessly, “Yeah.” Shifting behind her so that my dick is no longer nestled against her thigh, I pull the stick back helping her to slam it into the rack sinking two solids. Pushing back away from the table and spinning around, she wraps her arms around my neck hugging me. Cautiously hugging her back, she pulls back smiling from ear to ear. Enthusiastically she says, “Thank you. I’ve never been able to sink a ball on breaking.”

  Nodding I say, “You’re welcome.” Patting her on the back and using the tip of my pool stick pointing to the table, I add, “You’re going to have to let me go because we have a game to finish.”

  Dropping her arms from around my neck, she says, “Oh yeah, sorry.”

  Shaking my head I say smiling at her, “Don’t worry about it.”

  Forty-five minutes later, we’re walking up the stairs to Blake’s apartment, and I’ve won not one, but two games of pool. We had played three, but I let her win one. Unlocking the door and kicking her shoes off, I close it behind us. As she strolls into the kitchen, Dean who sits on the couch watching TV, turns toward to us saying, “Hey Landon, what’s up?”

  “Not much. Hey I hope you don’t mind, but Blake said I could crash here tonight so that way I wouldn’t have to get a room,” I let him know.

  “Naw, that’s cool. Hey Blake,” he calls out to her from the living room.

  “Yeah,” she shouts back.

  “Are we drinking or what? You know I don’t have class tomorrow, and with finals coming up, I need something to relieve the pressure,” he calls back to her.

  “Yeah, we’re drinking if I could get this damn bottle of Jose Cuervo down,” she mumbles loudly grunting.

  Walking into the kitchen, I watch Blake struggling to reach the tequila in the cabinet. Coming up behind her, I say, “Here let me help you with that.” I start to laugh because she’s so short that it’s cute. Reaching above her, I feel the bottle all the way in the back of the cabinet and pull it out. “What the hell was it doing all the way in the back?” I ask.

  Shooting Dean a menacing stare as he comes walking into the kitchen plopping down in a chair at the table, she states, “Somebody keeps pushing it all the way to the back. It’s pathetic enough that I can barely reach the damn cabinet, let alone get something out of it.”

  Dean and I erupt into laughter. Holding my hands up in surrender when she turns her death stare on me Dean speaks, “What, it’s funny watching you jump up and down trying to get stuff from up there. You do it every time, and every time it gets funnier and funnier.”

  Rolling her eyes she turns toward a different cabinet pulling out three shot glasses and murmurs, “It’s not my fault I’m short.” Reaching into another cabinet pulling out the salt she pours some into a small bowl. Digging through the fridge, she pulls out a bag of limes and cuts them into wedges.

  Leaning down I whisper in her ear, “I think it’s cute how short you are.”

  “Shut up Landon and go sit down,” she says laughing and shoving me out of the kitchen.

  Walking back over to the table with Blake following behind me, she sits everything on the table and says, “I’ll be right back, I got to go get the cards.”

  Dean reaches for the bottle and fills the shot glasses as we wait for Blake to get back. Placing the bottle back down on the table, he looks up at me while screwing the lid on, “Look man, we’re friends, but cut the shit all right, I know you like her. I get it, a lot of guys do. I know you know she has a boyfriend. I really didn’t want to get involved in this shit, whatever’s going on between you and Blake, but I’ve never seen her this happy before. If you do something to fuck this up for her, I’m going to be pissed.”

>   I have to give Dean some credit, he has some balls talking to me like that, but I get it. “Look, I get what you’re saying. Believe it or not, I want to see her happy too. I would never push her to do something that might jeopardize her relationship with her boyfriend. If she truly wants to be friends then I’ll settle for that,” I reply.

  Nodding he says, “All right. As long as we have that covered, then we’re good.”

  Returning with the cards, Blake takes a seat at the table and asks while shuffling, “So fellas, what should we play tonight?”

  “How about some Black Jack?” I answer.

  Taking our first round of shots Blake passes me the cards and says, “Here. You be the dealer, and name the rules.”

  “Okay, rules are, instead of playing for money we play for shots, dealer included. Whoever loses or busts you have to take a shot,” I say while dealing the cards.

  I look over to Blake who is trying to hold onto her poker face, but the muscle twitching in her cheek gives her away. I ask her and Dean, “What’ll it be?

  She and Dean answer in unison, “I’m staying.”

  Going around the table, we each reveal what we have. Blake’s at nineteen, Dean is holding at twenty-one, and I bust. Dean’s face lights up and as he sits back in his chair, gesturing with his hands. “Please drink losers,” he says laughing. Blake and I pick up our shot glasses clink them together saying “bottoms up” as we lick our salt, toss back our shots, and suck on our limes. My eyes dart to Blake’s mouth. I can’t stop looking at that damn lime nestled between her lips as she sucks on it!

  Half a bottle of tequila later, and lots of losing for all of us, we’re all laughing and having such a good time. Getting up, Dean stumbles his way into the living room turning on the stereo. Blake Shelton’s “The More I Drink” plays through the speakers. Immediately, Blake is up and staggering into the living room carrying the bottle of tequila, taking pulls, no longer caring about salt or limes. Blake and Dean begin to dance with no rhythm at all. Damn they’re fucked up! I join them taking the tequila from Blake and taking my own swig. I try to keep my distance from Blake, knowing that the way we move together obviously makes her lose control, but I see her over the rim of the bottle, staring at my neck, drinking the burnt amber liquid. Pulling the bottle away from my lips, her eyes dart to mine as I hand the bottle over to Dean.

  We’re all dancing like drunken idiots slurring the words to various songs as we try to sing. My stomach muscles begin to ache from laughing. A few minutes later Dean announces in slurring, “I’m druuunkkk…I’m going to bed.” Stumbling down the hallway, he bounces from wall to wall on the way to his room.

  With the music still playing, it’s drowned out as Blake and I are left alone staring at each other. Nothing seems funny anymore as the air around us sizzles with want. Lifting the bottle to my lips, my eyes stay glued to Blake. Snapping out of it, she stalks out of the living room. Returning she lays out a pillow and blanket for me on the couch. Casually, I saunter over to her, leaving only a few inches between us and hand her the bottle. “You know most people don’t like me,” she says taking the bottle from me.

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t like people invading my personal space, I jump when most people try to touch me, and if you haven’t noticed by now, I tend to stay pretty guarded,” she says looking down at the bottle. Returning her gaze, she adds, “But that doesn’t seem to bother you, does it?”

  “Not at all. It’s who you are Blake,” I reply lifting her chin so she has to look at me. Her breathing quickens as she searches my eyes for the truth behind my words as I add, “And I really like who you are.”

  Her eyes are hooded, simmering and staring back at me. Taking a swig of the liquor, she sets the bottle down and says to me in a seductive tone, “You know when you go into a bar you should always know what you want to drink. When you ask a bartender to surprise you, you may not like what you get. You see, some people like their drinks mixed, some like shots, some like it neat and others like it dirty. How do you like it Landon? You seem like a man who knows what he wants.”

  Answering her the only way I know how, I slam my mouth to hers. Within seconds, one of my hands threads through her hair as the other pulls her into me. Grabbing my shirt and balling it into fists, she pulls me down the hallway.

  Shoving me up against the wall, my hands leave her hair grabbing her ass and lifting her up. Her legs wrap around me as I spin, crushing her to the wall. Pressing against her and lifting her higher, a low growl escapes me when her hands tug on my hair. Nipping at her bottom lip, I pull back with hooded eyes and panting I say, “I want you—now. Room?” Pointing in the direction of her room, my tongue plunges in her mouth, her arms bind around my neck as I carry her to her room.

  Turning the knob and shoving the door open, we walk through, and I kick it closed behind me. Laying her down on the bed and hovering above her while bearing my weight on my forearms, Blake’s fingers snake up in my hair pulling and tugging. Our tongues dance together in a wild passionate tango. Pulling back my arm, my hand glides down her thigh lifting her leg and hitching it around my waist. Raising my head, I pin her with my gaze—watching her lose control. With a slow, powerful and controlled thrust, I rub the bulge in my pants across her core showing her just how much I want her. Blake’s head drops back as her back arches, pushing her breasts up. A deep growl escapes me as I thrust again. Leaning my head down meeting the hollow in her neck, I draw a straight line with the tip of my tongue reaching her ear, moaning low in her throat she says breathlessly, “Ahh…Landon…oh…my…God,”

  Sucking her lobe into my mouth biting it gently, I whisper, “I know you want me Blake. Your body trembling beneath me proves it. How much do you want me?” I ask, thrusting faster, gliding my covered dick against her. Crying out loudly this time, I ask her, “Have you been waiting, wanting to see what I’d feel like pressed up against you, with my dick against your clit like this? I can read your body Blake, and how it cries out for me. God baby, I want you.” I can feel the throbbing of her core through her pants as I grind my dick against her in a swirling motion. I make my way down her neck kissing, licking, nipping and sucking all the way down to her collarbone.

  Tugging on her bottom lip, gently I bite down on it as I reach for the button on her jeans. Throwing her head back she says panting, “Landon…I…I…can’t…I have a boyfriend.”

  Shaking my head, “I don’t care. You’re meant to be with me—you’re mine.” I say in low husky voice filled with desire and want, grinding against her harder to emphasize my point.

  I cup her breast in my hand squeezing it when she shouts, “I’m a virgin!”

  All my movements stop, my head drops to her shoulder when I say breathlessly, “Baby that’s the last thing that I expected you to say.”

  Catching her breath Blake says, “I wanted to be honest with you.” Groaning, I lift my head to watch as Blake rubs the palms of her hands up and down her face. “Oh my God, I’m such a horrible person. I’m falling in love with Derrick, but I think about you, and now I’ve done this,” she says, quietly sniffing back her tears that I now see leaking out from underneath her hands.

  My eyebrows furrow as I ask. “Derrick? Derrick who?”

  Confusion crosses her face, answering she says, “Derrick James, why?”

  What the fuck! How did I not see this sooner? He works for a resort and lives in Atlantic City; I remember her telling me this. Pushing up off her, I stand and hang my head, taking deep breaths. How the fuck did I let this happen? Out of all the people for me to pursue, I pursued my best friend’s girl and didn’t even know it. I need to get the fuck out of here—now. Patting my pockets to make sure I have my keys. I walk to the door, swinging it open, when I feel Blake tug on my arm. Looking at her over my shoulder, she asks, “Why did you want to know his name?”

  Pulling her hand off my jacket I reply, “Don’t worry about it. I need to leave.”

  Stalking out of her room, she follo
ws me asking, “What do you mean you need to leave? Landon you’re drunk. I have no idea what’s going on right now, but at least stay and sleep it off.” Her tone wavers as she talks to me, and I feel awful, but I need to leave.

  Not sure if I can handle the look on her face, I open the door and say over my shoulder, “I’m dead sober now, so please don’t worry. You don’t have to worry about me contacting you anymore either.” There’s finality in my tone as I walk out of her apartment and out of her life shutting the door behind me.

  Climbing onto my sleek black Ducati, I put the key in the ignition bringing my bike to life. As I go to put my helmet on, I stop as I look up and see Blake watching me out the window of her apartment. Slipping my helmet on, I take off down the road without looking back only to stop a few blocks down from Blake’s to check into a hotel for the night.

  Lying here in my bed staring out the window, I haven’t been able to sleep. Silent tears fall thinking about what I have done. I’d told Landon that I wouldn’t go there with him, but I did. I have betrayed Derrick, and that thought alone amplifies the pain that’s tearing at my heart. Pressing my fingers to my lips, they’re swollen from passionate, possessive, fierce yet tender kisses from last night. A shudder runs through me just thinking about it. Lost in my own thoughts, torture and anguish my phone starts to vibrate. Rolling over and picking up my phone, Derrick’s name flashes on the caller ID. I toss the phone back on my nightstand, deciding to talk to him later. I can’t talk to him right now, he’ll know something is wrong and want to know why—I just can’t deal with that right now.

  Throwing back my covers, I get out of bed, pick up my phone and go into the living room flipping on the TV. Lying down on the chaise, Dean walks in. Taking in my solemn expression he asks, “What’s wrong?”

  “Everything. Landon and I fooled around last night, and now I have to tell Derrick, and I’m scared of what he’ll say or do,” I reply.