You Are Here

by S. M. Lumetta

  “That’s not sexy,” I murmured.

  “I don’t have a condom.”

  I giggled, happy to have a solution. “I said I was expecting you,” I said. I kissed him quickly before jumping up and running to the bedroom. I returned with a handful of condoms. He sat back on his heels and locked eyes with me. With one hand he grabbed a packet, the other pulled me back down to him.

  “Fucking hell,” he said with a groan. One of his hands tangled in my hair, urging me closer. He pushed forward, leading with his chest. I grappled for leverage as I fell back again, but he had me secure, cradling my head as he set my back on the floor. My legs parted instinctively, and he took the invitation to rest between them.

  With my body alit with anticipation, I kissed him breathlessly. Fingernails digging into the skin at his waist, I flattened my palms on his hips to bring him closer. He shifted and slid his fingers along the wetness before he positioned himself and slowly slid into me. I was shattered in the best way.

  As natural and amazing as it felt, it was then that I realized I did not remember sex. Essentially, this was my first time—even if it wasn’t truly. I could only wish every girl felt this good losing her virginity.

  “God, Lucie,” he said, his breath hot on my ear.

  I dug my heels into his perfectly taut ass, but he pushed my legs higher, changing the angle and thrusting deeper. He clutched my waist with one arm, forming me to his body as we moved together. With his every thrust, I got progressively louder, and I bit at my lips to stem the volume.

  But then he kissed me delicately behind my ear and said, “Go on, baby, let me hear you.”

  The gravelly whisper sent shivers up my spine and with the tension coiling in my belly, I acquiesced with a howl. I was so close to the edge, holding him tighter as I drove my hips against him in a delicious collision. An animalistic noise rumbled from deep within his chest. I threw my head back to one side, willing the exquisite torture to split me in two. At that apparent invite, he sucked on my neck, lightly scraping the skin with his teeth. I fell. Waves of satisfaction pulsed through me as wildfire in my veins. He was only moments behind me, his tense body stilling above me.

  He collapsed onto his elbows, and I held him against me, my breath rattling unevenly. We were both sucking in air as if it might actually go out of style.

  He shifted us to our sides, holding me close. “I … I don’t …”

  I searched his eyes for a moment, but impetuously interrupted him. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything.”

  He looked sad as he stared at me, and I worried I’d somehow said something wrong. Then his expression softened. “I don’t know how to do this.”

  There was no way I could contain a laugh. “I beg to differ. You know very well how to do this.”

  He grunted, but I caught his grin. “That’s not what I meant. It’s … we—this is crazy.”

  I smirked, my breath still heavy. I rolled away, reaching up on to the sofa for the warm gray afghan hanging over the back. Pulling the cover over us, I told him, “Crazy’s relative, sweet lips. I’m not faint of heart.”

  He pulled me in and held me close, carefully poring over my face. I felt whole in his arms. He was my home and I never wanted to move. I threaded my fingers around his ear, swiping his cheek with my thumb. He searched my eyes for the longest time. I watched the same sadness morph and swirl between darkness and cold, stubbornly evading eradication. It wasn’t a mild trauma he carried, so I knew his heart wouldn’t be so easily unfettered. Not that I wouldn’t try.

  “I’m sorry,” he said so quietly, I knew it wasn’t meant for my ears.

  He shook his head minutely, closed his eyes, and pressed his forehead against mine. I moved my hand to rest my palm on his neck. I lifted my head to kiss him in the same spot he’d claimed on me—just behind his ear. Burrowing deeply into his embrace, I quickly fell asleep, each of us tangled in the other.

  When I woke, he was gone.

  Chapter Twelve

  Grey

  Run

  I freaked out.

  When I woke up with Lucie attached to me with her face buried in my neck, nothing could get me out of there fast enough. What the hell had I done?

  Carefully as I could, I extracted myself from her embrace, slid backward, and stood. She had shifted a little, but otherwise appeared dead to the world. I did my best to avoid scrambling around the room in a panic and thereby making tons of noise as I collected my clothes. I paused once or twice to make sure she was still sleeping. There was an unfamiliar discomfort in my chest. I was so anxious to get out, so I attributed it to the massive mistake I had made here.

  I dressed quickly before obsessively going around wiping door handles with my shirttail in case of fingerprints. Satisfied, I scanned the place. I didn’t remember bringing anything inside except for what I’d had on me, so I grabbed the hotel key and my wallet before slipping out the door as quietly as possible.

  It felt as if I’d completed an assignment. I’d made a clean exit and the scene was clear of evidence, both of my existence and my crime.

  My feet got heavier the farther I got from the apartment. Once I was a few blocks away, my feet stuck to the cement like anvils, anchoring me to the sidewalk in front of a café. I stared at my reflection in the window.

  I sucked in a deep breath. I was doing what I had to do to survive. What was wrong with me?

  Truth was, the scene wasn’t clear. It wasn’t a clean exit. Bailing on Lucie would hurt her—I knew that. Someone always got hurt in this business. It was called collateral damage.

  Somehow I spilled my fucking sob story as if I were in therapy. Then I went and initiated sex like a complete idiot. And it hadn’t solved my problem. At all. Though it had been years since I’d been with anyone, Lucie was different than a nameless one-nighter. She was more than scratching an itch. The act only made me hungrier for her: her body, her voice, her heart, her smile … I had unknowingly been starving for a solid decade. I didn’t want to leave her.

  I took a minute to collect myself and walked to the curb to hail a cab back to the hotel. I’d take a shower, regroup, and consider my options, if I had any.

  Grumbling to myself, I waved down a car, got in, and barked the hotel’s name. When he asked me to repeat it, I shouted, “Drive!”

  The driver yelped, but he floored it anyway. Regardless, we made it to the hotel without much delay.

  I got to my room, checked for my computer and bag, making sure they were untouched, and then opened the safe to see my car keys and a belt knife I’d left there. Every piece was where I’d left it.

  I threw myself in the shower, hoping it might clear my head a little. I was able to slow my mind down, but I felt no more certain about anything.

  I sat on the edge of the bed in my towel, my hair dripping on my shoulders and the comforter. She’d have woken by now. Seen I was gone. Probably gotten upset. Angry. Hurt.

  I recalled the look on her face when I’d nearly attacked her for grabbing my arm. This was bound to be worse. Much worse.

  I had no idea how long I sat there, staring into nothing and avoiding addressing the guilt I felt.

  I told myself she’d get over it. Soon enough, she’d tell Charlotte and the rest of them about it, and they’d convince her I was a piece of shit who runs away. There’d be no reason to be upset anymore because I was not worth it.

  Right?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Lucie

  Crazy

  He left no note, no hint that he would come back.

  In a fit of denial, I ran through the apartment checking even the most ridiculous of hiding places. I overturned the red chair, pulled every pillow and cushion off the sofa, and tore down the shower curtain. The doorknob on the closet came clean off and the curtain rod on one of the main windows fell.

  Once I noticed I was repeating a circuit, I paused, panting as I stood still in the kitchen. I remembered that I was, in fact, still naked, and the curtains were wid
e open. I dragged my feet to the bathroom for my robe and collapsed as soon as I had it on.

  I stayed in a pile on the floor for a while, sobbing. As everything that had happened yesterday recycled itself through my head, I began to doubt that he was ever here at all. Maybe I was actually insane. Maybe I’d cracked under the weight of a false confidence in something that was never going to happen.

  When I noticed my hands shaking violently, the tremors echoing into the rest of my body, I panicked. I scrambled to my feet and searched for my phone. Vivi and Nash flew back from Chicago last night, so she was probably at work, but regardless she’d have her cell.

  “Yello,” she answered cheerily.

  “I think I’m crazy.” My voice was a whine as I paced, tears at the ready. “I think I hallucinated. Bad.”

  “Badly.”

  “Vivi!”

  “Sorry! Automatic response. So, what is this all about?” She instantly flipped from grammar Nazi to genuine concern. “Why do you think you hallucinated? Were you tripping? Your next door neighbor smokes a shitload of weed. He’s probably laced some of it.”

  “No, I haven’t done any drugs,” I told her, my voice high-pitched. My throat was painfully tight and my nose had started to run.

  “Jesus, Lucie, what happened? Are you at home? I’m coming over.”

  “But you have work—”

  “I don’t have an appointment until three. I kept my calendar open in case of flight delays and crap,” she assured me, her voice smoothing into her calming doctor tone. “I will be there in ten. While you wait, sit down and take slow, deep breaths. I’m serious. Don’t think I won’t duct tape your ass to the chair to prove a point.”

  I released a breathy chuckle, but there was no weight behind it.

  My limbs felt hollow and disconnected as I walked to the red chair and righted it. It faced the couch and all I could see was Grey on it. With me. And then us on the floor. The whole evening was probably a lie my brain barfed up to break me.

  I burst into tears, folding myself in the chair sideways and burying my face in the cushy, high back. It felt like seconds later that I felt a hand on my arm. I startled.

  “Honey,” Vivi said soothingly. “Take these.”

  She held out a glass of water and two pills. I frowned, tears silently following well-worn tracks on my cheeks. “I don’t want to be on pills!”

  “They’re just to calm you. I got them from your medicine cabinet. They’re not antipsychotics.”

  “They’re not what?”

  “You’re not crazy, bitch. Just take a chill pill,” she ordered, grinning. “Or two.”

  I laughed, in spite of myself. “Well, you are. A crazy bitch, that is.”

  She snorted, nodding. “Yeah, but it works for me.” She shot me a wink and I took the pills.

  “So, why did you trash the place? Or were you robbed?”

  When I didn’t respond favorably to the joke, she kneeled on the floor before me. “Okay, you’re seriously scaring me now, sweetie. What happened?”

  I stared into her eyes, not really sure how long it took me to dig up the words. “He was here. When I woke up, he was gone.”

  She scratched her forehead, her mouth hanging open in thought. “Uh, I … who?”

  “My stranger … who happens to be Drew’s brother, Grey.”

  The intense compassion and concern slipped, revealing a hint of dread. “The guy I met in Chicago?”

  I gawked at her. “You met Grey in Chicago?”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “Vivi!”

  “Sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “Yeah, Nash and I ran into him on Navy Pier. He met us for dinner, but that didn’t go well. Remember how you told me Nash would get upset because of someone? That was dinner with Grey. You didn’t see him?”

  “I didn’t see who it was that upset Nash, but now it makes even more sense. Everything I see in previews revolves around Grey—or at least, he’s in the periphery.”

  The thought pulled at my heartstrings until they snapped, the discomfort curling me back into a ball. If they all include him, why did he leave?

  “Oh honey,” she said, squeezing my arm. “Let’s go sit on the couch so we can talk.”

  Bad idea. I started crying again. The couch was ruined.

  “Holy shit, what did I say?”

  I gulped in some breaths and straightened myself in the chair, feet on the floor. I told her the whole story, from seeing him on the High Line to waking up on the floor, naked and alone.

  “Why did you think you were crazy?”

  “What if I hallucinated all of this? Maybe I didn’t even see Charlotte yesterday. Maybe I threw my own panties on the end table!”

  “Okay, that’s TMI,” she tried to joke, but I slumped over in response. “Babe, one call to Charlotte and the theory is bust. I’ll call her.”

  She stood swiftly, pulled out her phone and dialed. “Hey, bombón. Quick question. You saw Lucie yesterday, yeah?” She looked pointedly at me and nodded. “Where were you? Cool. Did you happen to see anyone else there?”

  Vivi’s end of the conversation went quiet for a while as she paced. Occasionally she made a small noncommittal noise or two while throwing a concerned glance at me.

  “No, no, she’s fine. Does Drew know? … Sure, I get that. I have to tell you, though, Nash and I ran into him in Chicago … As a heart attack, chica. He was kind of a wreck, if you ask me—not that I knew him before, but … Yeah, I get you … Okay, I should go, but if it were me? I’d tell Drew. Don’t wait on Grey to stroll up and offer an apology or excuse.”

  Guilt stabbed through me as though I’d betrayed not only him, but everyone involved.

  Vivi hung up and sat back down on the stool to crouch in front of me. “You feeling any better?”

  I considered lying, but she read me before I could decide.

  “That’s a no,” she said, sighing. “Listen, I talked at length with Nash after we saw Grey, and from everything I can glean, he is just … lost. He’s got demons I’m not sure he can beat. You don’t need that on your shoulders on top of everything else.”

  “How can you say that to me?” I snapped, standing suddenly.

  She stumbled backward off the stool and landed on her ass. I swore and offered her my hand, but she shook her head. “I’m fine.”

  I sighed and crossed over to the fireplace. “From day one, you knew he was my lifeline.”

  She had remained on the floor, but shifted to sit with her knees to the side. She still looked a little stunned—and now hurt, but she swallowed it. “I thought I was.”

  “Viv, I’m sorry—that’s not … ugh,” I said. “You keep me grounded, I told you that. The promise of Grey keeps me moving as if a carrot were dangled in front of my nose. If all that is a lost cause, what do I do now?”

  She was still for a while, staring at me until she finally shrugged. Weakly smiling, sadness hanging off its edges, she said, “You don’t need him or any other man to exist, honey.”

  I sat on the sofa. “No, I get that,” I replied, quietly casting my eyes across the fabric, envisioning him lying back against the pillows at the end. “But he was … I feel like without him, I lose my heart.”

  “Lucie.”

  “This is not a dependency thing,” I argued. “This is my match, my soul mate, and you’re telling me that—”

  “I’m only saying”—she stood, walked over, and sat next to me—“that maybe he’s not. It’d be awfully convenient, but—”

  “I’m sorry, what?” I threw her hand off my arm. “Convenient!”

  Vivi grabbed me by the shoulders. “I know you’ve been dreaming and waiting, but what if you got the face wrong? You know? Maybe he just looks a lot like the man in your visions?”

  My stomach sank like a lead balloon in the ocean. I had to open my mouth to get enough air. “You don’t believe me.”

  “No. That’s not—”

  I stood sharply and backed away. “You basically sa
id I can’t tell the difference between what I’ve seen and reality. I saw Nash before I met him. Just happened to be your husband and look exactly like who I saw. Was I wrong about him? No. How about what happened in Chicago? Nash told you, ‘He said he was dead. What does that even mean?’ Am I right? You wore the red pencil skirt and the black boat neck cowl top, and told him that he couldn’t fix his friend.”

  She stared at me, her expression contrite. “You’re right.”

  I walked out of the room, going straight for my bed and landing on it face first. I heard Vivi’s soft footsteps follow.

  “I believe in you. I truly do. I’m just desperate to find a way around him hurting you like this,” she admitted, her voice low. “You know, so I don’t have to kill him.”

  She waited for me to react, but I didn’t. I turned my head so I could breathe.

  She leaned to one side to find my eyes. “The truth is Grey may not be ready for you, that’s all.”

  “Why didn’t you just say that?”

  Her responding laugh ended with a sigh. “I should have, you’re right. I’m sorry, honey. I don’t want to tear you down. I’m just protective of you. I kinda feel as if you’re my adopted sister, manita.”

  I fumbled around until I was sitting up and facing her. “Thank you.”

  She sat on the edge of the bed. “In that spirit, I think that you and Grey are not in the same emotional place right now and very clearly not on the same page.”

  “We’re both in a place where we need to reinvent ourselves.”

  She sighed. “You are ready. That guy is locked up like a tomb, Luce. I barely heard him speak ten words. Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration, but it was obvious he was sharing as little as possible. He couldn’t wait to get away from us.”

  I caught her gaze. “He talked to me about what happened with his dad, why he went into the army. When he was done, he seemed to fold in on himself. I don’t think he’d ever really spoken about it before.”

  Vivi perked up. “Really?”

  I nodded.

  She mulled the idea around. Her eyebrows raised and she gave me a cheeky smile. “You must have cracked him open, grave robber.”