by Emma Tharp
Ethan lets go of my hand and runs his through his blond hair, a long sigh escaping his lips. He looks like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Any mention of his parents seems to darken his mood. “I haven’t come out and told them that I hate working for them because that’s not entirely true. I love them, but hate the work. It’s wearing me down every day, I just don’t know how to tell them. And if I did, what would I do instead?”
I instinctively want to soothe him or have a pity party with him. Funny how our lives have turned out so similar. I don’t care for my job either, prancing around half dressed, having men ogle me day in and day out. It isn’t ideal, but it certainly pays the bills. “I get it, but it’s something you can work on.”
Sipping his beer, he takes a few swallows and sets it in front of him. “Yeah, you’re right. Where do you see yourself in five years?”
“Wow. I’ll be thirty-three then. I would’ve thought by now I’d be further ahead in life, at least married. My dad would’ve walked me down the aisle. But after he died, it was like my life stopped. I have no idea where I see myself in five years. I’d love to be singing again,” I say, my voice timid on the last sentence.
Just then a glorious plate of fried chicken is set in front of me and a steaming pulled pork sandwich in front of Ethan. The sweet tang of barbeque lingering in the air. My mouth waters, but I don’t take a bite. Our conversation is too intense.
“Have you ever thought about moving home?” he asks and shoves a fry in his mouth.
Without hesitation, I say, “No.” Of course I have, but saying it out loud feels like defeat. I moved here with big dreams and goals and my stomach sinks thinking about how miserably I’ve failed. “What about you? Where do you see yourself in five years?”
“Somewhere with you.” It flows out of his mouth so easily. He’s always been so forthcoming with his words and thoughts. My insides melt.
Not knowing how to respond, I pick up a piece of chicken and savor the crunchy buttermilk batter. Really smooth, Caroline, he confesses that he sees himself with you and you eat chicken. As soon as I swallow, I say, “Really? Is that what you want?”
Reaching across the table, Ethan lifts my chin up so that I’m looking at him and not my plate. His eyes are expressive and beautiful. “It’s okay if you’re nervous or scared. I get that. I am, too, but it doesn’t change the fact that I know what I want, and it’s you, Caroline.”
Damn. If we weren’t here in a restaurant, I’d straddle him and cover him in kisses. “I’m not going to lie to you. I care about you and it’d be amazing if we could make this work; I just don’t know how.”
“Let’s take it one day at a time, okay?”
“That sounds good.”
We finish our plates and order a slice of lemon meringue pie to go and take it with us back to my apartment.
Ethan and I sit on the couch strumming away on our guitars, rehearsing the songs we want to play at The Freemont. We sound good, really good for only having played together once in the past five years. The sound pulses through my body, giving me a charge of energy like nothing else. The connection between us is deeper because of the music and our past and I crave Ethan’s touch now more than ever.
The door flies open and Rachel bounds in. “Hi, guys!”
Setting his guitar on the floor, Ethan stands to give her a hug. “Good to see you.”
They break the hug and Ethan returns to his seat next to me. Rachel perches on the edge of the couch facing us with a huge smirk on her face and a glint in her eye. “I love that you’re here, Ethan,” she says.
“I love being here.”
“No, you don’t understand. Caroline has been better since you guys started talking again. She’s pleasant to be around and she wants to leave the house, other than to go to work. It’s nice having her back.”
My cheeks flame at her admission. I know she’s right, but to have her sit here and say it in front of me makes me uncomfortable.
Ethan looks at me when he says, “The same goes for me.” He cups his hand over my own and warmth radiates through me, leaving me breathless. I need a minute to regain my composure.
“I like the way you smile at each other. You’re too damn cute,” Rachel says. “Makes me miss Tom.” A pout forms on her lips.
Rachel and Tom were both members of The Trees and friends in high school. When she and I were leaving Pennsylvania to come back to Nashville, she shared with me that she and Tom hooked up. I was shocked to say the least. Tom is doing well for himself after the App Store purchased his music streaming app for a boatload of money. He’s recently divorced, but seems to have moved on. He and Rachel have been talking every day since the reunion.
“Tom, Darren, and I have gotten together a few times to jam after the reunion and he mentioned that you two have been talking. He seems smitten with you,” Ethan says.
This perks Rachel up; she sits taller and grins. “Did he say anything specific?” Her tone is casual, but I know it’s eating her up inside wanting to know how Tom feels about her.
“He mentioned that you’re a breath of fresh air and that he’d like to see you again. He and I agree that we hate that you two live so far away. It’d be nice to play more gigs together.”
Rachel moves over to sit on the chair next to the couch and bounces up and down. “Caroline, let’s book a trip back home. And soon.”
Hesitating for a moment, I say, “I’d have to get the time off of work.”
“Can you try?” There’s the pout again. “It’ll be fun.”
Of course we’ll have a good time and I’d love to go, but I’m not kidding, I need to make sure I can take the time off. It isn’t always easy and I don’t want to lose my job. Rachel’s part-time jobs at the coffee shop and substitute teaching are both quite flexible. Mine, not so much. “I’ll try.” I look back and forth between the two of them who are both giving me puppy dog eyes.
“Great. I’m going to go call Tom in my room. You guys have fun and don’t worry about disturbing me. Be as loud as you want. I’m going to watch some Netflix.” She gives us a wink and stands to walk to her room.
I want to throw a pillow at her. Can’t she tell that Ethan and I are just getting reacquainted? She doesn’t need to keep making me uncomfortable.
“Tell Tom I say hello,” Ethan calls after her.
“Sorry. She’s being annoying.” I roll my eyes and cross my arms over my chest.
Ethan leans in and gives me a sweet disarming smile and touches my cheek with his fingertip. “Don’t worry about her. She’s just being Rachel. We can go as fast or as slow as you want. I told you that. You’re in the driver’s seat; you control the brakes and the gas. If you want me to sleep on the couch, I will.”
Uncrossing my arms, I kiss his cheek. He’s being the perfect gentleman, which makes me want him without his clothes on even more, but not tonight. I’m not ready. Yet. But I do want him in my bed. “You aren’t sleeping on the couch.” Standing, I grab his hand, pull him up, and lead him to my room.
Once we’re inside the four walls of my bedroom, I shut the door and pull Ethan toward me. With our foreheads together we stare at each other. Nobody has ever looked at me like he does. It isn’t just lust and longing, it’s adoration and respect, too. It’s he and I like we were years ago, like I’ve ached for us to be since I left him but never could manage to figure out how to get back to.
His hands glide up the skin of my arms, creating sweet sensations in their wake and come to rest cupping my cheeks. When his lips press into mine, my stomach does a flip as his tongue sweeps against mine with gentle pressure. It isn’t enough. It’s been too long. Deepening the kiss, I slide my tongue along his, but this time with more intensity. I tug the smooth strands of his hair, angling him closer.
Moaning, his hands move down to grip my hips, pulling me closer. Every inch of our bodies are pressed together, his racing heartbeat pounding in time with mine. The warmth of his body and scent of his skin weakens
my knees. “Let’s lie down. Clothes stay on,” I rasp out.
Ethan’s thumb comes up to rub along my bottom lip, eyes dark with need. “Okay. That is perfect.”
He’s right. Touching him, tasting him again is everything I remembered it being.
We lie on my bed, side by side; Ethan’s hand comes up to rest on my bare thigh. I bend my knee and rest it on his leg, pressing us close together. My dress rides up higher and when Ethan claims my mouth again, his fingers skate up my leg and he squeezes my ass, tugging us together, closing all the distance. The only thing separating us is his jeans and the thin material of my underwear.
My breath quickens as he rocks his hard length against my sex, the perfect pressure and friction to stir my arousal. His lips work their way down my neck to that spot. He hasn’t forgotten. It’s just above my collarbone and when his tongue sweeps against it over and over, sucking and licking, I grind into him desperate to quell the ache building between my legs.
Running my greedy hands up the back of his shirt, I glide my fingertips over the rigid muscles of his back as they flex and contract. He’s thicker now, the bulk of his muscles hard and strong. His masculinity somehow makes me feel more feminine.
When Ethan’s hand grasps my breast and squeezes my nipple, my core tenses as the pressure builds. I deepen the kiss as all of my senses zero in on the intense lust and longing for release. I moan in pleasure.
“Yes, baby. Go for me,” Ethan growls into my neck.
With that, I arch into him and a rush of relief and pleasure course through me and I sigh out his name over and over again until the shudders pulsing through me slow down to a slow hum.
He kisses my forehead and pulls me in close to him. “I missed you, Linus. Do you mind if we stay like this all night?”
Still barely able to speak, I nod and look up into his eyes, content and satisfied as if he were the one who just came apart. I curl into him and snuggle up with his arms wrapped around me. “I missed you, too.”
Fatigue, relaxation, and security cover me like a blanket and before I know it sleep pulls me under.
3
Ethan
Frying up bacon and eggs in Caroline’s tiny apartment, I couldn’t be happier. Having her in my arms all night long was exactly what I needed. Sure, I can’t wait to make love to her again, but that can wait. It’s going to be perfect and she won’t have any self-doubt or regrets about it. I’ll make sure the timing is right and she’ll know how special she is to me. Watching her come apart last night was enough for me for now. She let me touch her, which is a start.
Coming here, I had no expectations except that I would get to see her and beyond that, it’s all been a mystery. When we talked over the phone last month, she gave me bits and pieces of her life, puzzle pieces that never seemed to fit together. When she trusts me again with her secrets, I think we can get closer. For now, seeing her, being with her will help me put her back together and that’s what I intend to do. Maybe then I can trust her again not to break my heart into a million pieces like she did the last time we were together. Baby steps.
“Good morning,” Caroline says as she pads up behind me, winds her arms around my waist, and puts her cheek on my back.
Wrapping my hand around hers, I give the bacon one last flip and turn to her. “How did you sleep?”
Her messy hair and wrinkled dress tell me before she does. “Like a rock.” Her grin is adorable. “Breakfast smells amazing.” We stand in each other’s embrace until I smell the bacon reach the crisp point that I remember she likes.
“I better turn this off before it burns. Get some coffee and have a seat.”
Nodding, she grabs the mug that I set next to the pot and pours herself a cup before sitting down at the table.
Piling the food on two plates, I set one down in front of her and the other in my spot.
“Thanks for cooking,” she says and lifts a piece of bacon to her lips.
“No problem. You looked peaceful, and I didn’t want to wake you. Rachel was up and dressed for yoga when I got up,” I tell her.
“She goes on the weekends. I tried going with her a few times, but it wasn’t my thing. I’d rather sleep in.” Caroline winks at me and eats her forkful of eggs. She’s never been a fan of rising early if she didn’t have to. She’s more of a night owl.
Taking a sip of my coffee, I set the mug in front of me and say, “What do you want to do today? Think we could get a last minute gig?”
“There’s no way we’d find one this last minute. But we can always go catch a band or do karaoke or something.” Her eyes sparkle at me, and when she gives me that look, there isn’t much I’d deny her.
“Sure, sounds fun. And we can rehearse today, too.” Or we can spend the day in bed. The strap to her dress has slipped down her arm, dipping the neckline down lower, exposing her cleavage. My hands itch to reach across the table and touch her, but I told her that she’s in the driver’s seat and I intend to be a good boy and honor that.
Her eyes find mine staring at her chest, and I do my best to recover and look away. She smirks and tugs the strap back up her shoulder.
It’s like we’ve just started dating. Everything feels new again, a fresh start, and I refuse to ruin it or let her slip through my fingers this time. I want to court her, make her feel beautiful and wanted. Build our trust again.
After we finish eating breakfast, we clean up the kitchen and sit in the living room. I watch her as she slings her guitar over her shoulder and gets it ready to play. Everything about her is sexy, from the way her hands slide over the strings to the way her features focus on the notes she plays. It’s almost as if the instrument is an extension of her. She’s a natural talent and I never tire of watching her. But her voice is an entirely different thing all together. The tone of it is smooth as silk. Every time I hear it, I’m transfixed. “Want to learn the song I wrote for you and played at the reunion, ‘Tonight’?” I ask.
“Yes.” Her tone is full of excitement. “I love it. Teach it to me.”
Unlike Caroline, I’m not naturally gifted, but it’s never made me love music any less. From the first time I strummed the guitar at the age of ten, I felt it resonate through my bones and I’ve been addicted ever since.
I play my song for her once again and it takes her no time at all to pick up the notes, and we play around with the lyrics, tweaking them to perfection.
I’ve missed this. Collaborating with her. We’ve always made a great musical team. And I enjoy jamming with the guys, but without Caroline, it just never felt the same, like something was missing.
“We need to play another song. Which one do you want to do? ‘Summer Love’ or something a little deeper?” I don’t want to push her to sing something she isn’t ready for. Last month at the band’s first rehearsal, I suggested we play an old crowd favorite that is very personal about us and our love, and she shut down and stormed out. I felt terrible about it, but had no idea it’d spark that reaction in her. That’s why I’m treading lightly now.
“Let’s go with ‘Summer Love.’ It’s fun and crowds really get into it,” she says and starts strumming the chords to the old familiar song.
It always takes me back to summertime when we were in high school and life was carefree and our love was simple and easy. We play through it a couple of times, but we both know it like the backs of our hands.
Caroline tugs the guitar up and off and sets it on the floor next to her. She eases her body closer to mine and sets her hand on my leg. Her eyes are dark, pupils dilated, when she says, “Want to take a break from rehearsing?”
I set my guitar down and pull Caroline into my arms. “What did you have in mind?”
She reaches up and squeezes my neck muscles. “You seem tense. I could give you a massage.”
I get an instant hard on thinking about her hands all over my body. “If you give me one, I’ll return the favor.”
Her eyes widen as she stands and takes my hand in hers. “Let’s go to my
room.”
A few hours later, and our muscles are definitely looser. Massage, making out, and a nap recharged our batteries and a quick shower has me feeling like a new man as I take a sip of my beer at Big Mouth Karaoke Bar.
The place is packed with people and in front of the stage is a huge dance floor where people are swinging their hips to a guy singing a song by Garth Brooks. His voice is amazing, and in fact not one person who sang tonight has a bad voice.
“What song do you want to sing?” Caroline asks. “Should we do a duet, or do you want to sing a solo song?”
Scanning the pages of song possibilities, I find the perfect song. “We’re going to sing together, of course. Let me go put our name on the list.”
“What song?” she asks as she swings her long blond hair over her shoulder.
I lean in and kiss her forehead before I say, “It’s a surprise.”
As I walk over to add our names to the list, I think back to the last time Caroline and I sang “Close My Eyes Forever” by Ozzy Osbourne and Lita Ford. We went out of town for a mini-vacation and found a karaoke bar and sang this song. It was right before her dad passed away, when our relationship was solid, and I was trying to come up with the perfect way to propose to her. Looking back, I wish I just asked her instead of trying to come up with an elaborate plan. If we had been engaged when her father died, I wonder if she still would have left, or if she would’ve stayed and worked it out with me. Singing that song with her in that bar was one of my last good memories with her. We had gone back to the hotel and made love all night long. Maybe it’ll have the same effect tonight.
I give the song information to the gentleman working next to the stage and he tells me it won’t be long and to get ready. Returning to our table, I’ve got a little spring in my step. “It’s almost our turn. You ready to knock this crowd’s socks off?”
