Calculated Risk

by Rachael Duncan

  “Oh, really? Because it looked like you helped that sweet, old lady to her car because she was struggling.”

  “That wasn’t it at all. I’ve seen her type on the streets before and she looked suspicious. It was all a cover to check the box. We’ve had recent reports of people disguised as the elderly to transport drugs.” He almost says all of this with a straight face. Almost.

  “Softy,” I whisper to him.

  “Just don’t tell anyone,” he whispers back.

  The rest of his shift is uneventful, even though we make several stops. You’d think Marcus was a local celebrity with the way everyone flocks to him. We were going through one neighborhood, and the kids started running out of the houses just to see him. What impressed me the most was he knew all of their names and who their families were too.

  I didn’t talk much during those exchanges. I was enjoying watching him interact with everyone too much to break up the unity with a new face. I could see the admiration written all over the kids’ faces. They idolize him. He doesn’t do this job for a simple paycheck; he does it for the love of his community. He’s been chipping away at my hard exterior little by little, starting with his heart-stopping smile. But this might have put the biggest crack in my wall yet, and I know it’s only a matter of time before it crumbles to the ground and I give myself over to him entirely.

  Marcus turns off the engine when we pull up to my apartment building and gets out of the car. Walking around to my side, he opens the door and helps me out. Goose bumps roll up my back when he places his hand at the small of my back.

  “I had a really great time,” I say once we get to my door.

  “I’m glad. Thanks for keeping me company.”

  How did it get awkward all of a sudden? Maybe it’s because neither of us knows really what to do. Do I invite him in? End it with a kiss? Make plans for next time? I don’t have to think this through for long, because Marcus makes the choice for us by cupping my face in his hands and giving me a kiss.

  I swear a content sigh leaves my mouth as soon as our lips touch. I’ve been eager to feel his mouth against mine all day long. He slips his tongue in my mouth and my senses jump to life. My heart rate accelerates and my breaths quicken. My hands grab his wrists while he holds my face and deepens the kiss. All too soon, he’s pulling back and peppering my face with kisses. My chest rises and falls rapidly and my lips feel swollen.

  “I’m off tomorrow, so text me if you’re bored, okay?” he asks. All I can do is nod. With a wink, he spins around and goes back to his car. As soon as he pulls away, I slide down the door until I’m sitting on the floor.

  Holy shit, he’s good at that.

  I’m in serious trouble.

  Lydia

  THE GIRLS ARE coming over for wine night, which couldn’t come at a better time. I have so many different emotions bottled up inside of me regarding Marcus. I need an outlet and some advice or I’ll explode.

  Speak of the devil, I think as my phone dings with a message.

  Stalker: Caught ya.

  My brow furrows in confusion as I try to figure out what he’s talking about. After several seconds and still no clue, I text him back.

  Me: Caught me what?

  Stalker: Thinking about me.

  With a grin, I respond.

  Me: What makes you so sure I was thinking about you?

  Stalker: Because I was thinking of you.

  See? That right there is why any resolve I have to keep him at a safe distance is slowly melting away.

  Stalker: Can I come over?

  Me: You’re not sick of me yet? You saw me all weekend.

  A few hours after tagging along with him at work, he texted me asking if I wanted to come over for lunch the next day. If a man is going to cook for me, I’m certainly not saying no. I didn’t end up leaving his house until nine o’clock that night.

  Stalker: How can I be sick of you when you kiss the way you do?

  My core tightens and my cheeks redden. We haven’t gone beyond making out and wandering hands, but that doesn’t mean I don’t fantasize about more.

  Me: So that’s all I am to you, huh? Just a person to make out with?

  Stalker: No, I could find that anywhere. You’re much more than that to me. You’re quickly becoming my favorite person to be with. Kissing is a bonus. ;-)

  I laugh quietly to myself and shake my head. He’s impossible.

  Me: Confession: You’re becoming my favorite person too. Buuuuut I already have plans tonight. The girls are coming over for wine night.

  Stalker: Ahhh, girl time. Well, have fun and call me later.

  Me: We’ll see. ;-)

  As soon as I tap the send button, there’s a knock at my door. Getting up off the couch, I walk to the front and let in the gang.

  “Hey, girl!” Scarlett says as she walks in. They all file in one by one and we gather in the kitchen to get down to business and pour some wine.

  “I haven’t seen you guys in ages,” I tell them.

  “I know. Where have you been lately?” Paige asks.

  “I’ve been around,” I say vaguely. “Just busy with work and stuff.”

  “And would this stuff have anything to do with our favorite officer?” Charlotte teases. I glare at her jokingly for blowing up my spot. She’s the only one I’ve really talked to about my situation with Marcus.

  “Wait, are you seeing the cop who gave you the ticket? The same one from the bar?” Paige asks incredulously.

  Looking down at my wine glass, all I can do is nod. I’m not sure why I’m so nervous to talk to my friends about this. I guess I just don’t want them making a huge deal about it in case it doesn’t work out.

  “You hussy! You’re holding out on us!” Scarlett says. “Come on, I want all the details. How long?”

  I internally cringe, knowing the onslaught of questions that is about to come. “Two months?” I hedge. Their mouths drop and I know they’re shocked I’ve been keeping this from them.

  “Spill,” Paige says as they all stare at me intently.

  Once I start, it’s like the floodgates open. Despite my initial hesitations, I feel so much better after talking to them. Not only does it feel like I’m not hiding this from my friends, but saying it out loud makes it more real.

  When I’m done recapping the last two months since I caved and we finally started dating, they all stare at me in silence with knowing smiles on their faces. “And he wanted to stop by tonight, but I told him it was girls’ night.” When no one says anything, I say, “What?”

  “You really like him,” Scarlett says. I’m not sure why it sounds more like an accusation than a statement, but my first instinct is to deny it. Until I realize she’s right.

  With a sigh, I admit, “I do.”

  “Why do you sound depressed about it?” Paige asks with a little laugh in her voice.

  “I’m scared.” I shrug.

  “Of what?” Paige’s expression softens and she looks concerned.

  “How is it possible to like someone so much in such a short time? I’m crazy, right?” This is crazy. I don’t believe in the whole love at first sight notion, but there was definitely a connection from the first time we met, and it’s grown steadily ever since.

  Charlotte puts her hand on my knee. “Not every guy is like Seth, you know? In fact, the majority of men aren’t like that douche. I know you’re waiting for Marcus to let you down and prove you right, but you have to stop doing that.”

  Charlotte reads me better than most and she knows exactly what my fears are. I’d never felt so hurt, so betrayed as the day Seth broke my heart. That’s when I realized love isn’t about a fairy tale, it’s a weapon. It creates damage so deep you have no hope of ever being the same again. You can only hope to mask the pain and force it to the back of your mind so you can function each day.

  Paige shrugs before she says, “Sometimes you just know, Lydia. Stop questioning everything and go with it. See where it takes you. It might be a casual thi
ng, or it could develop into something more, but you have to stop overthinking.”

  I let their words sink in and know they’re right. There are things in life you can’t explain, and maybe my attraction and connection to Marcus is one of them. With a cleansing breath, I do my best to release my apprehensions, fears, and anxieties about Marcus.

  But it’s easier said than done.

  Me: I can’t sleep. Are you awake?

  My phone rings in my hand a few seconds later. “I take it you can’t sleep either?” I ask.

  “Not really. I’ve been lying in bed for about an hour now.”

  His deep voice makes me squirm and snuggle down deeper into my covers.

  “Tell me something random,” I say to him.

  He pauses for half a second before replying, “I hate spiders.”

  I laugh. “Seriously? You’re scared of a little spider?”

  “Hey, not all of those things are little,” he says defensively. “All those legs and the way they crawl. It creeps me the fuck out. I don’t like it.” I can almost hear him cringe through the phone. Who would have thought a guy who goes to work every day and comes face to face with dangerous criminals would be afraid of something so small. It’s one more thing I find charming about him.

  “So I’ll have to kill all spiders that we see when we’re together. Got it,” I joke.

  “No, I’ll do it. I’m not ready to hand in my man card, but just know that I don’t like it.” The humor in his voice causes me to laugh. “What about you? Tell me something random.”

  I start to comb through the archives of my brain, but ultimately blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “I’ve never broken a bone.”

  “What did you do, walk around with bubble wrap on?”

  “No,” I say with a little laugh. “As a kid, I never took chances. I was pretty much scared of everything until I met—” My words are cut short when I realize the path I was headed toward.

  “Until you met who?” he pushes.

  I take a deep breath and let it out. “Seth. He’s my ex. We met in high school and he helped me break out of my shell and try new things.” That’s about all he was good for, but I don’t say that part out loud. “You’re turn,” I say, trying to shift the focus off of me. I turn my bedside lamp off as I wait for his reply.

  “I’ve always wanted to bungee jump.”

  “No way. What on earth would possess you to want to do that?”

  “I’m not sure. It just looks freeing.” His response makes me wonder if there’s something preventing him from feeling that way with two feet on the ground. “Your turn.”

  “I never think about bungee jumping.”

  He lets out a small chuckle. “That doesn’t count.”

  “Okay, let me think. I’ve never been outside of the country. I’ve traveled all over the US, but never went abroad.”

  “Really? Even in college?”

  I shake my head even though he can’t see me. “Nope. I had to work while I went to school because my parents couldn’t afford to pay for it. I didn’t have a whole lot of extra cash at the time, so I’d save up and take a road trip with a couple friends. Once I graduated, life just got . . . hectic and I didn’t have time to plan a trip.”

  “We’ll have to fix that one day,” he responds.

  “Somewhere tropical,” I add.

  “Yes, somewhere with white beaches and crystal blue water.”

  I can picture it so clearly, but the comforting part is I can see Marcus lying beside me. The image brings a smile to my face.

  “Well, babe, I’m going to get off of here and go to bed. I’ve got to work in the morning.” He lets out a yawn, but I’m still hung up on the fact that he called me babe. This is the first time he’s used a nickname for me. Who knew four little letters could bring a smile to my face and make my stomach flutter.

  “I’m going to turn in too. I’ve got to make one last visit to an attorney’s office first thing in the morning before I can officially close out his account.”

  “Okay, call me tomorrow. Sweet dreams.”

  “Goodnight.”

  I don’t think I’ve ever fallen asleep with a smile on my face, but tonight I do.

  Lydia

  Stalker: Do you have a jersey?

  Me: No. Why?

  Stalker: Because I need your name and number.

  THIS HAS BECOME Marcus’s thing where he’ll text me some cheesy pick-up line out of nowhere. I pretend not to like it, but I do because they always make me laugh.

  Me: You have my name and my number, goober.

  Stalker: But I made you smile.

  I grin as I type.

  Me: Did not.

  Stalker: Sure I didn’t. Have any plans tonight?

  Me: Nope.

  Stalker: You do now. Pack an overnight bag. I’ll come by to pick you up at eight.

  Overnight? Am I ready for that? I mean, it seems a little fast, doesn’t it?

  Oh God, I sound like a prude. I’m getting stuck in my head again and need to relax. Plus, I’m getting a little ahead of myself given I don’t know what we’ll be doing anyway. Marcus is different and I can’t put my finger on why. He sets my mind at ease and I’m completely comfortable around him. What’s more surprising is I’m always looking forward to the next time I get to see him. It’s a foreign feeling for someone who has worked so hard to push every man away, even going as far as to make up a fake husband.

  I stare at my closet for I don’t know how long. Trying to decide what to pack is a little more challenging than I thought. I don’t want to send the wrong signals by wearing the nighties I usually go to bed in. Then again, I also don’t want to look like a nun either. I shouldn’t care about this. He’ll hardly see me in it anyway because we’ll be sleeping. With a sigh, I force my brain to shut the hell up, stop overthinking, and grab some yoga pants and a loose shirt. I throw in the rest of my stuff, and am ready to go in ten minutes.

  Taking my bag from the car, he holds my hand and leads me through the house. Instead of stopping to put my things down, we go straight for the back door. His swiftness to get us back there heightens my curiosity and my excitement. When we make it through the door, my hands go to my mouth as it drops open.

  “Oh my God, Marcus. You did all this?”

  It’s like a fairy tale. There are lanterns strung between the trees and a fire pit is burning in the center of the yard. Behind the pit, sits an open tent made from lightweight fabric, creating the perfect enclosure for us to sit in while taking in our surroundings. When I get closer, I see a tray with tea light candles and some snacks sitting on top of blankets. The whole back yard radiates with a warm glow making it super romantic. It’s obvious he put some thought and effort into tonight.

  “Do you like it?” he asks, uncertainty in his voice.

  “No,” I say, shaking my head. “I absolutely love it. This is gorgeous. I don’t even know what to say.”

  He holds his hand out, gesturing for me to crawl into the tent. “Say you’ll sleep under the stars with me.” Between the warm glow from the fire radiating off of his face and the affection shining clear in his eyes, I’d do just about anything he asked of me right now.

  “I’d love to,” I reply.

  He sets my bag inside the tent and helps me inside once I take off my shoes, before following in after me. It’s a lot cozier once you’re inside, putting Marcus and me close to each other. With the front completely open, we have a perfect view of our surroundings. It’s very romantic.

  “Wine?” he asks, pointing to our glasses.

  “Sure.” I hold my glass up for him while he pours and can’t stop smiling as I look around at everything again.

  We talk about our childhoods, likes and dislikes, and everything in between while we’re bathed in a warm glow from the candles and lights. It’s probably the most romantic setting I’ve ever been in, and I never want this moment to end.

  “Favorite childhood memory,” he says out of the blue.
r />   That’s an easy one for me. “When I was little, I used to do ballet.”

  “Really?” His eyebrows shoot up his forehead.

  “Well, I only did it for a year when I was, like, eight years old, and it wasn’t anything like you see on TV, but I remember really enjoying it.”

  “Hmm,” he says.

  “Does that surprise you?”

  “A little. I mean, you didn’t have the greatest rhythm at the bar that night,” he says with a chuckle.

  My hands cover my face, which turns bright red. “Oh, God,” I groan. “I was drunk, okay?” I knew this was going to come up eventually, but I was holding out hope that he had forgotten about my lack of skills on the dance floor.

  “Mmm hmmm.” Removing my hands, I glare at him. “Sorry, sorry. Two left feet when drunk; noted,” he says.

  “Anyway,” I exaggerate. “I had to perform a solo routine at a competition. It was the end of the year thing held at the studio and sort of a big deal, and I did really well. I got first in my age group.”

  “Wow, that’s pretty cool,” he says.

  “That wasn’t even the best part though. What’s always stood out to me is for once I was good enough for my mother. There was no nitpicking or telling me what I should’ve done better. On that day, in that moment, she was happy with the way I was.” I run my finger around the rim of my wine glass.

  “This is probably the first time I’ve ever heard you talk about your family,” he states. I want to say, well, now you know why.

  “I don’t see them much.”

  It’s quiet for a few minutes and I feel like an asshole for bringing the mood down with my sucky mother. “I’m going to go change if that’s okay,” I say, needing a quick break.

  “Sure. You know where the bedroom is.”

  Grabbing my bag, I run off thankful for the solitude where heavy topics don’t exist. With a deep breath, I head back out after I’ve gotten into my pajamas. “This is really nice. You’ve definitely surprised me,” I say, once I’m seated next to him again.