Pants On Fire

by Lacey Black

  Then I stop and picture Cricket. Sweet, beautiful Cricket. Someone who fell for his charms once before, but vowed she wouldn’t be caught dead near the man again. In fact, she probably has a voodoo doll in his likeness, and late at night, she drinks a bottle of wine and sticks needles into his eye sockets and groin.

  That thought makes me smile.

  I realize in that moment, I trust her. With everything.

  Including my heart.

  I smile at the woman in the mirror. She returns the grin, thinking she has me under her spell. “You know what, Ellen, I believe you’re wrong. Cricket doesn’t want Danny any more than I want you.” Her smile falls from her painted lips. “Have a good evening,” I tell her as I turn and walk out the door.

  My long legs eat up the carpet as I make my way back to the banquet hall.

  Back to Cricket.

  Chapter Eleven

  Cricket

  Where the hell is he?

  I head for the bar, anxious to get away from our table. Away from Danny.

  The moment Rueben excused himself to the restroom, I noticed Ellen’s eyes follow him as he exited the room. When she turned and saw me staring, she only smiled that conniving, vindictive grin that let me know she was up to something. Before I could get up and follow him, she left, heading off to use the restroom.

  Everything inside me wanted to follow her. I knew where she was going. But a bigger part of me realized I trust him. Even if our relationship is totally fake, Rueben would never do anything to hurt me, and that includes getting it on with Ellen in the supply closet. So that’s why I stayed in my seat and listened to the chairperson of the alumni foundation speak on raising more money.

  The moment she finished her speech, they started to clear the tables of dinner remnants and brought out a band for dancing. Danny took the opportunity to slide over two seats, occupying the one Rueben recently vacated. He instantly started talking about himself, about his contributions to the school, and blah blah blah, but my eyes kept wandering over to the door Rueben and Ellen went through not too long ago.

  “You look beautiful tonight,” he said, leaning in too closely for my liking.

  “Thanks.” My reply was short and sweet. He wasn’t getting a compliment back.

  “Listen, about us,” he started, but I had already heard enough.

  Standing up, my chair scooting loudly across the tile floor, I said, “There is no us. If you’ll excuse me.”

  And then I headed for the bar.

  Here I am, stepping up and ordering a glass of merlot to calm my frazzled nerves. I mean, who does he think he is? He left me, remember? More than ten years ago, the morning of our graduation and the day before we were to leave to start our new life together?

  Fuck him.

  “Fuck Danny Ohara,” I mumble, as the bartender sets the glass of wine down in front of me and I hand over a twenty-dollar bill. When he slides back my change, I throw some in the tip jar. The moment my hand lets go of the bills, the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, a familiar sensation I now associate with Rueben.

  “Why are we saying fuck Danny Ohara?” he whispers, his warm breath tickling my ear as he presses his front to my back.

  A familiar tingle courses through my veins as his hands snake around my body and rest on my stomach. He applies just enough pressure to hold me against him, my body feeling every ripple of his, the hardness between his legs. I gasp, the words to answer his question gone for good.

  “Crick?” he whispers, his lips grazing over my sensitive earlobe.

  “What?”

  “What did he do?”

  “It’s not so much what he did say as what he was going to,” I tell him. When he lightens his hold, I slowly spin around and gaze up at his dark eyes.

  “What was he going to say?”

  I shrug my right shoulder and glance around. The bar is starting to fill up, but no one seems to be paying us much attention. Shocking, considering we’re practically blocking part of the bar. “Truthfully, I didn’t let him finish his statement. He started it with ‘about us,’ to which I politely reminded him that there was no us.”

  The corner of his lip turns up. His hand comes to rest on my lower back, and that familiar pressure is back as he holds me firmly against him. “And why is that?”

  My brows pinch together in question. “Why is there no us?” I ask, a little dumbfounded by him asking. He nods once and waits for my reply. “Because I’m not interested in ever dating Danny Ohara again.” I can practically feel him relax against me. “Plus, I’m sort of seeing someone,” I add, giving him a knowing smile.

  His little grin turns wolfish as he moves one hand and threads it in my hair at the nape of my neck. “Sort of seeing someone, huh?”

  I’m not sure how it’s possible, but he moves us even closer. I can barely think, let alone breathe. My mind is screaming to kiss him, my hands desperate to touch every inch of his body. I’m not sure if it’s this man or the glasses of champagne I’ve had tonight, but a new boldness sweeps through my blood. “Yes, I’m seeing someone. He’s pretty fucking great. Smart and funny.” I move up to my tiptoes and lean in just a little to whisper, “Oh, and so fucking sexy.”

  He arches an eyebrow and grins down at me. “Sexy, huh?”

  “Fucking sexy,” I state, bringing my glass of wine up to my lips and taking a hearty drink. I’m afraid if I don’t do something with my hands, they’ll strip this man naked, crowd be damned.

  We’re locked in a stare down, both of us wanting something neither of us have vocalized yet. There’s no question left in my mind when it comes to Rueben and whether or not he’s attracted to me. I can feel that pressed against my stomach. There’s also no longer any doubt that he’s as lost to this attraction as I am. It’s in the way his fingers linger on my skin, like he can’t get enough. Or the way he holds my hand and rubs my knuckles with his thumb, almost absently. Or the way he looks at me, as if I’m the only woman in the room.

  That’s why I would never go back to Danny.

  Because he’s never made me feel this alive, this desirable, this wanted.

  Maybe it was our age. Maybe a twenty-two-year-old doesn’t really know enough about love. Or maybe it was because it was Danny and our story really didn’t have a happily ever after ending. But this? With Rueben? This feels different. Better. The best. Exactly how all the fairy tales tell you it’s supposed to feel. Maybe sometimes, you have to be shown the bad so you can appreciate the good when it comes along.

  Rueben takes my hand and guides me back to our table. I notice Ellen is there, her and Danny’s heads angled downward, as if having a private argument amongst themselves. We don’t take our seats, however. My date takes the glass from my hand and sets it down, then with my hand still nestled in his own, guides me toward the dance floor.

  There are several couples already swaying to the smooth melody of the slow song. My nerves kick up just a notch, and I’m not exactly sure why. I’ve never danced with Rueben, let alone this closely. Yet, it feels like the most natural, comfortable thing in the entire world. He pulls me into his arms, takes my left hand in his, and places his right hand on my lower back. He holds me close, our bodies aligned in perfect harmony. I can still feel his hard length nestled within the confines of his suit pants, and oh what I’d like to do with that cock right now. I’m grateful for the low lighting to help conceal my rapidly pinkening cheeks.

  We sway in sync to the beat, and I realize Rueben has pretty good rhythm. I’ve danced at my fair share of charity events in San Francisco, and none of my dancing partners have been as smooth on the dance floor as Rueben Rigsby.

  “Oh, I meant to ask,” I start, glancing up. “How did your meeting go today?”

  “Really well. They offered me the job.”

  “Rueben, that’s great!” I exclaim, breaking our dancing formation to give him a hug. “I’m so excited for you. Can you talk about what you’ll be doing?”

  He glances around as we resume o
ur dance. “A little of it, but some I won’t be able to discuss. There’s a huge NDA I had to sign just to even talk with the higher ups via video conference. It was a little surreal,” he says.

  “I’m sure. I bet you’re going to be a computer spy working for the CIA, maybe in charge of communication between handler and agent,” I whisper, my eyes dancing with excitement.

  Rueben laughs. “Where did you come up with that?”

  I shrug. “I like to read.”

  “Well, the job isn’t anything like that.”

  “That you know of…”

  He stops and glances down at me. “That I know of,” he confirms, the corner of his lip turning upward, the poster boy for mischievous.

  “So? Are you going to take it?” I ask, anxiously awaiting his decision.

  “I asked them to give me a few days to consider their offer. I need to go talk to my grandpa tomorrow. He’s always been my sounding board of sorts when it comes to these big decisions. I was planning to go visit them tomorrow anyway, so it’ll be great to talk to him in person instead of on the phone.”

  Smiling, I reply, “That’s right, you said you were going to visit them.”

  “Can you still go? You mentioned yesterday on the drive here you’d go with me, but I wasn’t sure what your flight information was,” he says, his eyes a little hopeful. Truthfully, I’m a little hopeful too. I’m not ready to end our weekend together yet.

  “I fly out Monday night. I had planned to drive to Decatur tomorrow after the brunch and stay with my parents, but I’m going to need to hit up a car rental place first and pray they have a car available.”

  We stop moving. “I have an idea,” Rueben starts. “What if, after the alumni brunch, we head out together and visit my grandparents. We can be on the road to Decatur by three or so and spend the evening with your family. I haven’t seen them since graduation.” He stops quickly, schooling his features as he adds, “Unless you’d rather just hit the road solo. I totally get that.”

  But I’m already shaking my head no, an idea already taking shape in my head. “No, I’d love for you to come with me. When is your flight?”

  Rueben shrugs. “Tomorrow night, but it’s changeable.” He seems to swallow hard as he adds, “I’d rather spend the extra time with you.”

  My own throat seems to develop golf balls and it’s hard to breathe over the emotions of his simple statement. Mostly, because I feel the same way. I’m much rather steal a few extra hours—a day even—with Rueben. My plan was to return to work on Tuesday, taking only one of my fourteen vacation days available. In fact, the last time I took a vacation or personal day was when I had the flu three years ago. Otherwise, I’m there, in the studio, ready to work.

  But what if…

  “What if we hung out a little longer?” I find myself whispering, searching for any sign of reservation in the depths of those brown eyes. When I don’t see any, I keep talking, so much so fast I’m not sure he actually keeps up. “What if we visited my parents tomorrow night and left Monday afternoon. We could drive north to Chicago and maybe stay there for a few days. I have hotel points I can use, and plenty of vacation time built up. We could stay up there through Thursday and then fly home on Friday.”

  I wait as he absorbs what I just said. He seems to be thinking about it, almost a little too hard, and I start to feel dread fill my gut. He doesn’t want to hang out with me that long, does he. He’s trying to come up with an excuse. Maybe he doesn’t have any time off available and he needs to head back to Tennessee. I’m about to take back my suggestion when a smile spreads easily over his lips.

  “I love that idea. I might have to do a little work, but I can work wherever, really. Can you move your flight from Monday to Friday?” he asks.

  “I think so. I might have to pay a fee, but that’s not a problem,” I assure him.

  Realizing we’re just standing there in the middle of the dance floor, while couples around us sway to the music, Rueben starts to move us once more. “You know, I’ll help with the hotels. You don’t have to pay for it all. Actually, we could probably just share a room. It’ll be cheaper that way,” he says, glancing around at those surrounding us and not really making eye contact.

  “We could do that. I mean, we already know we’re capable of sharing a hotel room, right?” I reply with a weird chuckle. It sounds like I’m fake choking on air.

  “Right.”

  “And we could get double beds. You know, if we need to.”

  Rueben’s eyes finally lock on mine, and I feel the impact sweep through my body. Like a hurricane spiraling through my veins, my breasts start to tingle and my lady parts ache. “What if…we don’t get double beds. What if we just share one. Together.”

  My throat is drier than the Sahara. Words seem to evade me, even though I want to scream my acceptance from the highest mountain. Nodding slightly, my brain and tongue finally communicate. “Together. I’d like that.”

  Relief washes over his features as his hand grips my lower back. He moves me even closer and everything around us just seems to disappear. This thing—whatever it is—brewing between us is its own force, its own entity, alive and breathing. It consumes me and washes through my blood. I can feel its power and am helpless to stop it.

  Not that I want to.

  I’m also helpless to stop the kiss. Rueben’s lips are inching closer to my own. My tongue slips out, wetting them quickly as I close my eyes. I can feel his breath tickle my skin, causing goosebumps to pepper my skin. His lips are firm, yet tender, as he slides them across mine. When his lips finally settle on mine, he moves them expertly and lazily, as if savoring the taste and feel. Before I even have a chance to open my mouth, his mouth lowers, kissing down my jaw and across my chin.

  This kiss…wow.

  “I have another idea,” he whispers, nibbling on my lower lip and making my body shiver.

  “What’s that?”

  “What if we stay in Chicago through Wednesday and fly back to Tennessee. I’d love for you to see my place. You can stay there until Friday.”

  My heart is jackhammering in my chest as my brain screams, “YES! YES!” I let out a little gasp as he sucks my bottom lips between his teeth, my panties pretty much completely useless at this point. “I’ve never been to Tennessee before,” I whisper in a voice that doesn’t even sound like my own.

  “Then it’s my solemn duty, as your friend, to show you how gorgeous Gatlinburg is in the fall.” He moves his hand slightly lower, his fingers dancing across the cheek of my ass.

  “I think that sounds like a brilliant idea,” I tell him, gripping onto the back of his jacket as if it were a life vest and I’m floating in endless miles of ocean.

  “Yeah?” he asks, teasing the corner of my mouth with his tongue.

  “Fuck yes,” I gasp, practically grinding against the front of his pants where his erection presses hard into my stomach.

  We continue to sway to the music, but I’ll be honest, it could have switched to a fast song and I wouldn’t have a clue. My brain isn’t firing on all cylinders and the lust in my body is threatening to take over completely. In all my life, I’ve never felt this wanted, this appreciated.

  This adored.

  “I have another idea,” he says, his mouth now dancing beside my ear.

  “You’re on a roll. Keep talking.”

  I can feel his lips turn into a smile as he tries to keep our dance PG. I’m pretty sure we already went way past that and are one nipple peek away from being straight out porn. “How would you like to get out of here?”

  My heart skips a beat and pirouettes in my chest like a damned professional ballerina. I stop moving and pull back just slightly. Not enough to show the entire hall full of alumni what’s going on down in his pants, but enough he can see my face when I reply, “I think that’s the best idea you’ve ever had.”

  The smile that spreads across his face does things in my chest, and I already know, at the end of this week, I’m going to be cr
ushed. I’m not going to want to go home, to leave him back in Tennessee while I fly home to California. I’m going to hurt and probably cry when this ends. I know it, yet I don’t want to be anywhere than with him. Even if that means I’m left gutted and alone come next Friday night, I already know the line between friendship and more has already been crossed. It’s in the rearview mirror, waving dramatically and begging me to come back. But I don’t.

  I can’t.

  I want more.

  Even if there’s an expiration date.

  Chapter Twelve

  Rueben

  I’m ready to fly out of this room, dragging Cricket behind me as I go, but I don’t. I can’t. See, I have this little problem in my pants and if I move, everyone and their mother is going to know just how badly I want this woman.

  That’s why I keep dancing, even when the song changes to a slightly upbeat one, I keep us close, but put just a little more distance between us. If I don’t, if I keep her body pressed against mine and the temptation of her lips so dangerously close, I’ll never get this hard-on down enough to walk out of here.

  And believe me, since the moment she uttered those words, it took Herculean strength not to throw her over my shoulder and run from the room. But I don’t want to embarrass her any more than I already have, considering I’ve practically mauled her in the last five minutes in front of a room packed with people.

  Definitely not my finest hour, and my mama raised a gentleman, which is why I keep her out on the dance floor just long enough to get my libido under control and keep my lips to myself. When the upbeat song finally ends, I take her hand and lead her off the dance floor. I can feel eyes on us, but I keep mine focused on our table and away from their judgmental glances.

  When we finally reach our destination, my intention is to just grab her clutch purse and run, but I know that’s not what will happen. She hasn’t seen her friends in years, and I need to give her a chance to say goodnight.