by C. M. Lally
We finish up with dinner and I drop her off at my parent’s home. She attempts to get me to come in for a while, but I’m not facing that music today. I can’t make Dad be proud of me, even with my choices and mistakes. I have paid for my sins, but he sees a different version of the truth. He’s not finished punishing me. Without my Mom, he’s lost to time and events, and how they’re passing him by.
Chapter 9
Jenna
What the hell am I thinking inviting Nick over in this mess? I have lost my mind with this man. He makes me dizzy and dumb. I keep thinking about those electric arc shocks when we touch. That has never happened to me before. He’s hot sex and mystery all wrapped up in one package. A rugged bundle of virility decorated with a velvet soft bow that whispers when you pull on the tails. He’s one of those gifts that you open slowly and cherish forever. Why doesn’t he have a girlfriend?
What if Luke tries to come back here? Shit, I can’t think about that now, but I know it’s going to happen. Luke isn’t the brightest man—he’s just the most possessive one. I thought I could break him of that habit, but I guess he had other plans. Well, he’s lost a fucking screw in his head if he thinks we’re still a thing.
This will be the first time I’ve been the one to leave the relationship and I honestly don’t know what to do. How stupid is that? For once, I don’t feel the need to sit and cry, wondering whether a guy is going to stay. My parents are going to have to start all over again; same situation, different name. I just need to stop talking about them until one stays, but what if that never happens? I’ll never live that down with my mom. She needs to stop stressing over my relationship status. It’s times like this that I wish I had a sister or brother—someone else for them to focus on and worry about. I know she just wants me to be happy. Hell, I want to be happy. Music makes me happy.
Everyone thinks I sing because I want a record deal, the sold-out venues, my name in lights … that’s not why I sing. There’s a feeling that I get when the music is pumping through my body. It’s like a slow-building orgasm that creeps up on you. You can feel the power of it, you know your legs are about to shake. You’re breathless from the foreplay. You want to scream and release the pressure in your body, but you also want it to slow down so that you can keep it going. It feels so good—you feel alive and invincible. Most sex isn’t even close to that good.
None of my band wants fame. They love the music just as much as I do, but they have families and jobs that they love just as much, if not more. They don’t want the open road, new cities every night, the stress of topping your next show and breaking sales records. Sure a Grammy or two would be nice, but that comes with everything else that I don’t want. We’ve all talked about it and agreed—playing on the weekends is enough for our dream.
I just want a simple life. Zero drama. A job I love. A home I love. All with the man I love. I want to live simply and love generously. It sounds like an easy life plan. It’s harder than you could ever imagine.
I finish sweeping up the broken glass and take out the garbage. Everything looks decent now. I took pictures for my Uncle Frank. Hopefully it won’t cost too much for new mirrors in the bathroom, and to fix and paint a few holes in the wall. My renter’s insurance will cover everything else. Now it just looks like my place is under construction, which isn’t too bad. At least I know if Nick brings Zeus over that he won’t get cut or hurt on anything that’s broken somewhere. I hop in the shower and get ready to just relax. And wait. Wait for Nick.
My stomach is growling so I order a pizza. I don’t want Nick to see me scarf down more food. Everyone always asks me where I put it all. I get so sick of people asking me that. I can’t help it that I love to eat. I’m sure that my metabolism will slow down one day and I’ll balloon up like a blowfish, but until that day, I’m eating!
Just as I set my phone down, it buzzes and starts to slide across my counter. I flip it over, praying that it’s not Luke, but I see a text from Nick. I rub my finger across his name, hoping to feel that arc of electricity.
N: Can I come over early? I’d rather spend 45 minutes more with you than driving around thinking about you.
J: Yes! :)
N: Great. I’m in your driveway.
I put the phone down and race over to the front door, doing a dance along the way that was something like a touchdown celebration. I automatically look to the right but—damn it—Luke broke the mirror that always hangs by my front door. I hope I look decent. I open the door and Nick’s helping Zeus out of the backseat of his truck while trying to roll a bag stuffed full of toys onto this shoulder. I offer to take the bag, but he waves me off. I grab the bag of dog food instead, and shut the door. It takes about five minutes to actually get in the door with Zeus stopping to smell everything—and I mean literally everything—outside. He left no bug, flower or stone un-sniffed.
Nick sets the bag of toys down in my living room and turns to face me. He looks nervous or scared. “I’m sorry if I surprised you by showing up early,” he breaks the silence of my quiet home. “It took me less time than I thought it would to get Zeus’s things together.”
“Don’t apologize. I was done anyway,” I replied. I offer him a seat before I walk to the kitchen to put the food supplies away, but he follows me instead. It’s sweet the way he seems a little nervous. He’s smiling and talking, but I can tell he isn’t completely at ease because he can’t seem to figure out exactly what to do with his hands. I could give him a few ideas on where to put them.
I fill Zeus’s water bowl up and turn to say something to Nick, but he’s standing just a few feet behind me. I can smell his cologne, and struggle for something to say. I wave my hand, gesturing around the apartment, and tell him, “It’ll take weeks to get it back to the way it was, but I am not sure I want it back that way. I might make some changes here, and in my life.”
I place the bowl on the floor and look up into his face. The sun is shining directly through the skylight into those emerald eyes, and I am lost. He cups the side of my neck, rubbing my jaw line with his thumb, and asks, “Can I kiss you now? Because I don’t think I can wait any longer.” I don’t even respond—I grip his shirt and pull him down to me.
I kiss him softly while pulling him closer. I have to feel him against me. His arms wrap around my waist and his hands cup my ass solidly to pull me up to him. He runs his tongue gently across my lips as I open up to him. His tongue dips into my mouth to caress mine, but he has already set me on fire. I push to pick up the intensity. I need him now.
I know he’s not going to let me fall, so I wrap my legs around his waist to cement us together. He turns us so that my back is up against the refrigerator. His hold is strong and steady and I’ve never felt this safe in my life. Our tongues tangle; there is no gentleness, but that’s okay because we’re riding a tempest. My fingers bite into his shoulders and his hands massage my ass furiously. He pulls away slightly to shift our weight for better access, but I don’t want there to be any space between us. I wrap my hands under his shoulders and lock his chest to mine again. My nipples are on fire from brushing against him. Ten more seconds and I will need to feel his mouth on them.
He pulls away from nipping at my neck and asks, “Are you expecting anyone?” I don’t recognize his voice behind my own loud panting.
“What?” I whisper breathlessly as I continue to place little kisses on his collarbone.
“Your door bell just rang.” He stands back and I slowly lower my legs to the ground while he holds me steady. The doorbell rings again, and I hear it this time. He removes his hands from my shoulders when he’s sure that I’m steady, and it feels like a cold winter wind just swept through my kitchen.
“Oh, I ordered a pizza.” I slink past him in a lustful daze. If I looked at myself in the mirror, I imagine my face will be cherry-red from embarrassment. I was ready to fuck him up against my refrigerator. What the hell? I hear him speaking soothingly to Zeus, calming him, and restraining him from attacking the person
at the door.
I pay the pizza man and re-enter the kitchen to gather plates and drinks for us both. “Are you hungry? Do you want some pizza?” I ask him.
“I don’t want to take from your dinner.” He enters the kitchen to help me, sees the size of the pizza box, and laughs.
“I’ll eat from this for days. I promise, this isn’t one meal. Please—have some,” I say as I walk everything over to the dining room table. I set a plate down in front of him along with a beer.
For the first time in my life, I have a comfortable, interesting conversation with a man. There are no awkward moments. He’s a great conversationalist and talking to him is almost effortless; it must be all of the sports interviews that he’s done. He was born to talk to people; I, on the other hand, am quite shy around people that I don’t know. I lose my filter and inhibitions once I get to know somebody, but that usually takes a while. He’s pulling me out of my shell like a cosmic force that I can’t resist. Until now, music has been the only thing to do that to me; never a person.
We eat and talk a little more about everything, except Luke. He doesn’t ask me anything and I don’t volunteer anything. I know I need to hunt Luke down and finish this off. It’s not right to start something new without ending everything else. That is, if Nick and I are starting something new. I don’t even know how to approach that subject, so I’ll save that for later—much later.
He stands up to clear the table, but I shoo him away. “I’ll get that. Please don’t. You’re a guest,” I beg him, but he refuses to hand me his plate and napkins.
“It’s the least I can do for you taking Zeus for a few days. I have to know you’re safe here, and he’ll enjoy the new company.”
“You’re the one doing me a favor by bringing him here,” I try once more to pick up his plate, but he continues to gather everything from the table in those magnificent hands. I give up and go to the living room to play with Zeus and his toys while Nick carried the dishes to the sink. I can hear the water running and drawers opening. He must be looking for dish towels. He never asks me about them so he must have found what he was looking for.
Zeus begins to whimper and loses interest in the toys. I watch his adorable doggy face look toward the front door and then back at me. He probably needs to go out. “Did you bring a leash for him?” I call out. “I think he needs to go out.”
He comes out of the kitchen, drying his hands. The leash is draped over his wrist. “I had it in my pocket. I almost forgot it,” he sheepishly admits. I watch him shuffle through ten pounds of lion mane to attach it onto Zeus’s collar. He holds his arm out, reaching for my hand, to begin our dog-walking adventure. I step toward him and take hold of his hand and he twines our fingers together. I am anchored to him. I love that he is so open and freely shows his feelings. He makes me feel wanted—cherished—like a prized possession that he doesn’t want to break.
This is so different from everything I have ever known. This rugged, manly, gentleman is so different that it scares me. I don’t deserve him. He’s dreams and ambition. He’s fancy dinners and charity events; photo shoots and interviews. All the things that are drama and spotlight that I swore, up ‘til now, that I didn’t want.
Chapter 10
Nick
Is it insane to want to be in constant contact with someone? Does that make me crazy, knowing that causes me pain? Jenna is like that perfect, rare, sunny and warm Christmas Day. You know she only appears in your life every decade or so, and you want to savor it while it’s here. You attempt to stretch out the day, and pray that time forgets to pass, but instead it speeds up.
We take Zeus for a walk and I watch her constantly. I keep thinking she will turn to mist and disappear like a magician’s trick if I blink. She has a gracefulness to her, and she bounces along with excitement as she walks. I hold her pixie-sized hand and feel every little spark when our palms collide. I need to slow down with her. Back in her kitchen, I was ten seconds away from lifting her shirt and really putting my mouth on her. She deserves better than that.
I get the feeling her boyfriends haven’t had much respect for her, especially after seeing how the latest one has turned her life inside out. I’m going to fix everything for her, and then I’m going to take care of that low-life prick. She says it’s jealousy and alcoholic rages. I understand the jealousy. I wouldn’t want another man even looking at her, but he slacked on his duties by not taking care of her. She sings her ass off on that stage. What a dumb fuck. I won’t make the mistake of neglecting her.
I’ve watched her for months, biding my time. I’ve lived through three boyfriends so far in that short time. They never stay long, and for the life of me I can’t figure out why. But I’m happy about it, ecstatic even. She glows up on that stage when she is singing. It’s mesmerizing. She’s like watching a happy ending on constant re-play. Her loser boyfriends are the villains in her story, but she never seems to let them affect her. It’s the Cinderella effect. She doesn’t let life beat her down. She is truly happy just to exist.
I, on the other hand, welcome the beat-down. All men fall, you know. It’s the football player’s motto: “It’s not how many times you get knocked down that count, but how many times you get back up.” I keep getting up, building my character some more; adding pieces back into my broken existence so that one day I may be worthy again. Jenna doesn’t seem to let people beat her down. She just accepts that they weren’t for her and then moves on gracefully. That’s a trick I need to learn.
“I need to ask you something, and I’m sorry if I’m being nosy, but I’m worried about you. How are you getting to work in the morning?” I ask. “I can take you if you need me to.”
“Oh, I’ll just probably call my Mom or Dad to swing by. I’ll have to explain what happened and get a rental car or something. I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry!” She gave my hand a little squeeze.
“And I have band practice tomorrow evening,” she continued, “so I’ll have to get a car quickly anyway. Did you want to stop by after work and check on Zeus? We can take him for another walk together,” she replies with hope in her voice. She’s twirling her ponytail, winding it through her fingers, but doesn’t look at me.
The sexy, seductive girl is back. God, I want her. I want to take her back into her bedroom, where she’s probably fucked all of those idiots, and show her what a real man is—one that won’t hurt her. One that will cherish her. One that will stay. I need to take it slow, and I need to re-build myself before I can be with her.
“I have an appointment tomorrow evening,” I explain, “but I can drop by around eight if that isn’t too late?” Now it’s my turn to sound hopeful. I don’t know when practice is, so I am praying that’s a good time. Please, if there is a God above, let it be a good time.
“No, I should just be getting home at that point, so it’s perfect timing.”
Relief floods through me, and I find myself already looking forward to tomorrow. “Speaking of which, I should be getting on home and letting you two settle in for the night. I promise, I’ll see you tomorrow night. Please call or text me if you hear anything strange in the night or need anything, okay? Remember—I’m just a block over.” I pause, then ask, “Can I kiss you good night?” She deserves that level of respect.
She looks at me then, and those turquoise eyes are glossy and shining. I can’t tell if she’s about to cry or if she’s anticipating the kiss. She takes a few steps toward me, places both of her hands on my chest and turns her face up to mine. I lower my hands to her hips and gently tug her toward me, closing those last few inches of space between us. I watch her eyes flutter closed and my dick gets rock hard. Her navy blue eyelashes fan across her cheeks, and the light, shimmering pigment of her eye shadow glistens like fairy dust across her eyelids. She is beautiful and I am spellbound.
Our lips connect and I have to remind myself that this is a goodbye kiss. I can’t consume her unless I plan to stay, and I’m not staying tonight. I can feel her hands caress my che
st and slide up to my neck. Every whisper-soft touch gliding over my skin releases that agonizing fire of pain that rapidly spreads throughout my body. I can usually tolerate it everywhere else, but no one ever touches my neck. It’s the one sensitive part that burns excruciatingly hot. I mentally try to count through it, but it’s ruining the moment. I gently roll my shoulders to release her hold.
She jumps two steps back from me like the heat of my pain seared her and exclaims, “I hurt you, didn’t I? I’m so sorry. I forgot. I felt you tense up and realized my touch was …”
I tilted her face up and look into those remorseful eyes. “It’s okay,” I cut her off mid-sentence. “Some parts of me are just more sensitive than others.” I quickly kiss her on the lips and tell her goodnight. I have to walk away now. I head toward the door without looking back because if I do, I might end up staying.
She has that sad look in her eyes and I won’t take advantage of her when she’s dealing with so much shit. Although I want to. My fingers are itching to lift that shirt and I’m dying to explore her soft skin. God, I want to rub her down and lick her from lips to lips.
I need to set a plan in motion to make her mine. It’s a QB-football thing. I have to know what the plays are to obtain my goal. What calls to make, where my play makers are and how best to maneuver them to obtain the win. I have to predict the opposing team’s moves as well. It sounds cheesy, but it’s the predictability and faith in the play and players that bring the win. It’s a feeling I get. I have to think it through and go with my gut on it. It’s never let me down; only others and their disrespect for the process have failed me.
