by Harper James
My eyes narrow— it’s awfully early to make a comment like that, one that I can’t help but find a little insulting. “I guess,” I answer warily. “Though I don’t really feel the need to undertake that challenge. I’m not a SEAL.”
“Neither was I when I did it. I was just training,” Heath says.
“Okay, yeah, well, then I don’t want to challenge myself to run on such little sleep. Why would I? Why did you?”
Heath sits a little straighter, and I can tell he knows the answer to this question. “Why did I want the challenge? Same reason all SEALs want it. I want to know what I’m capable of. I want to know what my team is capable of. I want to find out just how far I can be pushed, and if that means bleeding and getting shot at and going without eight hours of sleep, then that’s okay. It’ll show me what I’m made of.”
“That doesn’t mean that people who don’t want to go through that are weak, though,” I say hesitantly, because I actually, truly think he may not know this. “I’m strong in other ways.”
Heath seems to be genuinely considering this, and then he nods. “Of course. I’m just proud of being a SEAL. It’s hard, sometimes, going between that life and this one.”
“I can imagine,” I say gently, and the tenor of his voice has softened me. I crawl forward, tangling the bedsheets as I do, and gingerly lean down to lay my head on his lap. For a moment, Heath seems alarmed, but then I feel the muscles in his legs relax. He touches my hair with his fingertips, cautious as if he were stroking glass.
“You like it, though? Your job? Being in the military?” I ask, because I’m not totally sure. It’s a part of him, sure, that’s clear, but I don’t know that that’s the same thing.
“I love it. I love everything about it. Always have. Always knew it was what I wanted to do. Navy, anyway— my dad was in the Army. I knew going into the Navy would piss him off.”
I laugh a little. “He can’t be mad anymore now since you’re in the SEALs though, right? Because that’s like…a huge deal.”
Heath shrugs, massive shoulder muscles rising and falling like boulders down hills. “He’s always pissed off. It’s just his nature.”
“What about your mom?” I ask.
Heath pauses, and then says, “What about your mom? You said you were on your way to take care of her when you hit me.”
“When you braked suddenly and caused me to hit you,” I correct. I stall for a beat, picking at threads on my quilt. “She’s paranoid. Like, actually, medically paranoid. With good reason— my dad is an abusive dick. He’s been in prison since I was eleven, but he’s up for parole soon, and it’s made my mom worse.”
“Wow.”
“Yep. Go ahead. Say it. “Daddy issues”,” I say, rolling my eyes a little.
“You and me both, then,” he says kindly, and I appreciate it. Way too many guys have made daddy issues jokes around me, like a girl with some prick as a father is a lucky find. That’s right, bros of the world— I watched my dad emotionally and physically abuse my mother for years all so you could get a freak in the sheets. It’s all about you!
“We can talk about something else,” he offers.
“Hm?”
“Your whole body just went stiff. You clearly don’t want to talk about your parents,” Heath says.
I frown, then realize he’s right. I force myself to relax, though I’m not sure I’ve actually accomplished the task. “It’s okay. He’s not getting out, by the way. My dad, I mean. But my mom is just…she hasn’t left the house in years. The reason I was dressed like a lunatic when you braked—“
“When you hit me,” he interrupts.
“When you made up a story about a dog,” I continue, “was that she wanted me to come over and check for intruders. If so much as a pine cone hits her roof, she’s sure it’s some prison assassin my dad sent for her.”
“Is that likely?”
I shake my head. “Dad is way too dumb for that. He’s a stock, basic abuser. But right after he went away, he had his best friend swing by the house at all hours to watch us. The cops had to get involved, and in the end that guy went to jail too for something totally unrelated, but it wrecked my mom. The lawyers and counselors and everyone had been saying that once he was locked up, she’d be safe…and then she wasn’t. So I think she gave up on ever feeling safe again.”
“Wow,” Heath says. “That’s awful.” He waits a beat, then looks down at me, meeting my eyes. “What about you? Do you feel safe?”
I’m surprised by his question. It’s the first time anyone’s asked me that— my mom has always been the focus. But I nod. “Yeah. I’m not worried about my dad.”
“But you’re worried about your mom.”
“Who wouldn’t be?”
“Who wouldn’t be,” he agrees, nodding. “Well, for what it’s worth, I thought you looked hot in that ridiculous outfit. And I thought you looked even hotter when I found out you were driving way too fast in order to help out your mom.”
“I was not driving fast!” I say, shoving him in the stomach. It barely works— it’s like punching a concrete wall. He laughs at my failed attempt.
“I’ve got to go,” he says after a few minutes. “But I’ll text you later?”
“Oh,” I say, surprised. I sort of expected— and more than sort of wanted— another round between the sheets. I mean, I’m sore as hell, but I bet I could grin and bear it for a shot at another orgasm like the one he gave me last night. “Where are you going?”
“To work out,” he says.
“Now?”
“I work out every morning. Even when I’m on leave. It’s easier to just keep doing it than it is to start and stop.”
“Oh.”
“What?”
“You’re on leave,” I say.
Heath frowns, though there’s humor in it, like my statement is a few degrees shy of ridiculous. “That’s sort of how it works when you’re in the military, Karli.”
“Yeah, I just— for some reason I didn’t think of it like that. I figured if you’re here, then you’re…here.”
“I am. For twelve more days.”
“Twelve days?” I ask, eyes widening. I sit up, hair swinging in front of my eyes. “Twelve days?”
“It’s a two-week leave,” he says, looking astounded by my reaction. “So yeah, twelve days, and then I’m doing training outside of San Diego for and upcoming mission.”
“And how long will that be?”
He shrugs. “Probably at least six months.”
I stare. Is he serious right now? He tells me I’m beautiful, he goes to weird lengths to get my number and message me, he fucks me in the most mind-blowing of ways, and then…he leaves for six months? And doesn’t even tell me that that’s going to be the case.
“I just…I thought we were really…” I don’t know how to end the sentence. I don’t know how to end this conversation, actually, or this morning.
“What?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. That’s just really soon, I guess. We just met. You made me hit your car like…two days ago.”
Heath snorts. “I made you hit my car?”
“Oh, right, I’m sorry— I forgot. There was a “dog”,” I say, making a face. “Was there really a dog? Tell me the truth.”
“Of course there was a dog,” he says, but there’s a glimmer in his eyes. I grab a pillow from the bed and chuck it at him hard as I can, but he deflects it with a laugh. His laugh makes me hungry for him, and I bite my lip, ready to ask him for another round—
“I need to get going. I’ll talk to you later today,” Heath says, and pats his pants pocket to confirm his wallet and keys are there. “Bye, Karli.”
I blink, stunned, surprised, more than a little hurt— all emotions that I’m not sure he sees in the dim light. What right do I have to complain, though? We just met. We weren’t even on a date. We didn’t agree to a time schedule or plan this morning.
So I say the only thing I can stomach at the moment: “Oh. Rig
ht. Bye, Heath.”
Chapter 9
I try very, very hard not to think about Heath the following day. I go to the crappy across-town coffee shop instead of my regular haunt, because I know Bella will be at that one with about a million questions about where Heath and I vanished to last night. And honestly? I want to tell her. I want to tell her in detail, because she’s the sort of girl who doesn’t believe in TMI.
But…if I tell her about what happened between me and Heath last night, I’ll probably have to tell her what happened between us this morning— or what didn’t happen, at least. What isn’t going to happen at all, because he’s leaving in less than two weeks for who knows how long.
It’s fine. It was a great one night stand. There are worse things, right? There are way worse things, in fact…I smile involuntarily, thinking about the way Heath made me feel so exposed, so vulnerable…about how much I liked the feel of his body over mine.
My phone rings and I startle, flushing hard when I see it’s my mom calling. No one comes to this coffee shop— it really is the crappy one— so my ringtone bounces across walls, a thousand times louder than it needs to be.
“Hey, mom,” I say when I answer, overly cheerful in an attempt to hide the lurid thoughts that are still fading.
“Karli, thank god. Listen, did the lawyer call you?”
“No— what’s up?” I ask. She sounds panicked, but I know better than to actually be worried. My mom always sounds panicked these days.
“He says that your father is going to plea some sort of religious thing, and that your Aunt Lisa had a pastor come in and write this big fancy thing about how he’s a born-again Christian or something. The lawyer thinks that’d going to work to your father’s benefit.”
“Okay…but does that mean his chances of getting out are better, mom?”
“Well, no, the lawyer didn’t say that exactly, but it certainly sounds that way, don’t you think?”
I lean back in the freezing cold metal chair (Crappy. Coffee. Shop.). “I don’t think so. But either way, mom, maybe we ought to think about something else. Because the amount of time till his parole hearing is going to pass the same whether we dread it or love it.”
“Well…I suppose…” my mom says warily.
“Just enjoy the next two weeks. What will come will come,” I say.
“You think you’ll be able to do that?” she says doubtfully.
“Of course,” I say, and as soon as the words are out of my mouth, I cringe. How can I tell my mom to relax, to not worry about what’ll happen in two weeks, when I’m doing the exact opposite with Heath?
It’s not the same thing, of course. My mother, justified or not, is afraid for her safety. I’m afraid of being abandoned if I let myself fall any harder for a guy I barely know. But still: How can I tell her to relax and enjoy life if I can’t do the same?
I leave the coffee shop before lunch, mainly because I can’t focus on work— not with Heath running through my head and the heat of last night’s encounter running through my blood. I stop by the town’s sole Vietnamese restaurant for soup, opening my phone and debating texting him. If I’m going to enjoy the next two weeks, then I ought to shoot him a message, right? Why wait, when time is limited? Besides, he’s on leave, it’s not like he’s working.
I finally send one, typing it out quickly then all but chucking my phone down on the table, a too-intense attempt at proving to the world just how casual I felt about the whole thing.
Karli: Good workout this morning?
It’s innocuous enough, right? Just a quick question. Nothing leading. Nothing that says “I’m cool with this being a two week fling”— because I’m not, not really. But also nothing that says “I expect this to become a serious long term relationship”, because I know that’s not realistic.
It’s possible I’m way overthinking text messages.
I finish my lunch, though, and Heath still hasn’t responded. He hasn’t responded by the time I get back to my apartment, or by the time I take a shower in hopes the hot water will clear my head. He hasn’t responded by dinner, in fact, and as far as I can tell hasn’t even opened the message.
So, maybe this isn’t even going to be a two week fling. Maybe this really was just a one night stand.
I call Karli.
I tell her everything.
“What, seriously? Nine inches?” she asks, and I can practically feel her glowing over the phone.
“It was huge. Like, scary huge almost. But then is was…ugh, it was amazing.”
“Hell yeah. If someone knows how to use that kind of size, it’s gotta be. I’m so jealous!”
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“No! Don’t be sorry,” she says, sounding exasperated. “I’m just saying, if he hadn’t been totally into you, then I’d have snatched him up.”
“That’s the thing though,” I say, leaning back on my couch, tossing my feet up on the coffee table. “I thought he was into me, but I haven’t heard from him since he left this morning. I can handle just enjoying the next two weeks with no expectations— or I can try to, anyway— but I didn’t think it was just a one night stand. I thought he and I had more chemistry than that.”
“Uh, you totally did. Jack and I talked about it after you two vanished. It was obvious that you and Heath were either going to be mortal enemies or have lots and lots of sex.”
“Well. We had sex. Not lots and lots.”
“Stop being such a downer! You can’t give up this fast,” Karli says, and I hear her shuffling around. There’s a typing sound in the background.
“What are you doing?”
“Stalking. Not in that creepy your-dad way. In that acceptable way.”
“I think that’s the sort of thing someone stalking in the creepy way would say to justify it—“
“Okay, I found him on Facebook…he has his profile locked down pretty tight, though. His picture isn’t even of him, it’s some sort of SEAL pride graphic. Lemme keep looking…” She drifts off, and after another few moments of typing says “A-ha!” in a triumphant voice.
“What?” I ask.
“He isn’t on any other social media, but my brother’s friend Leo is, and Leo just posted a photo, and I can’t totally tell but I’m pretty sure that’s Heath in the background. It’s gotta be him. No one else has shoulder muscles like that.”
“Jesus, Bella, you’re almost creepy levels of good at this.”
“I know. Anyway, they’re at the Porter Bar. Want to go?”
“To the Porter? Isn’t that going to make me look like a psycho ex?”
“You can’t be an ex if it was just a one night stand,” she says, and I’m not sure if that makes the whole thing better or worse. “Come on, we’ll both go. Everyone goes to the Porter, it isn’t crazy for you to be there at the same time as him.”
She’s got a point. Sort of. The Porter is super popular here in town, since they’re the only place that serves decent beer. I’m not sure why I’m going, though. I mean, what am I going to do, stomp up to him and ask why he didn’t answer my text?
“No, no, that’s too obvious,” Bella says after she’s picked me up. I put on a cute sweater dress and boots, and dared to try winged eyeliner for the first time. I wasn’t super successful, but thankfully Bella is a makeup pro and tidied the lines for me in the car.
“Then what?”
“We’re just going to get a beer. See how he reacts. You want to know if it was a one night stand, right? Seeing him face to face— and how he reacts to you when he’s with his bros— is gonna give you an answer.”
The Porter is in a brick building that used to be some sort of furniture shop, back in the town’s early days. The decor pays homage to this; everything is leather and tidy and aged to perfection. The place smells like old wood and hops, and there are no television screens blaring at us— though there are a few vintage video games on the far wall. There are also barrels and kegs and growlers and quirky local brewery ads everywhere.
“Hey, Heath!” Bella says. “I met you at the party last night, remember?”
“Yep. Hi. Hey, Karli,” Heath says.
And my heart sinks. Because his voice is calm, cool, and collected. There’s no passion in it. He isn’t happy to see me. He isn’t anything to see me— I’m just here, and he’s here, and whatever happened last night clearly isn’t pulling at him the way it’s pulling at me.
Bella realizes this just as quickly as I do. “We’re just doing a tasting until some friends get here,” she says to the bartender, and immediately pulls me over to one of the tiny pub tables. Tears are pricking at the corner of my eyes.
“Let’s just leave, okay?” I ask, because I really, really don’t want to cry in front of him.
“Fuck no. We’re not going anywhere. We’re going to sit here and have a nice time drinking teeny tiny glasses of beer, and then we’re going to have a bunch of friends meet us here so Heath can see what a fun, interesting, great person you are.”
“I don’t want to impress him, Bella. I don’t want him if he cares so little about me.”
“Impress him? Hell no! We’re going to make him sorry. Take that scarf off so your boobs show. Do it!” Bella says.
She’s a really great friend. I think.
I take the scarf off as she gets to work rallying a number of girls from the not-crappy-coffee shop-workplace to come join us, along with a few guys she knows and some of Jack’s friends. By eight o’clock, the Porter is full, and it seems like about half the crowd are people Bella called in for backup.
And by nine o’clock I’m actually having fun. A few beers down and I haven’t forgotten Heath, by any means, but I have gotten into playing old school Donkey Kong and some sort of pumpkin flavored beer. Heath and his group are still at the bar, talking, but I’m keenly aware of the fact that Heath is stealing glances at me more often than he was when I first arrived.
