Jagged Love

by Nicole Simone

  My hands wrapped around the mug. “What time is it?”

  “Just after seven a.m.”

  That was latest I’d slept in months. Andrew suppressed a yawn and shook away his grogginess. Poor thing probably didn’t get a wink of shuteye.

  I blew on the steaming liquid. “You didn’t have to stay here.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  Tilting his head back, he drained the last sips of his coffee. A low groan of satisfaction from the back of his throat caused my cheeks to heat. Lately, everything he did brought forth images of sex.

  “Do you mind if I use your shower?” He absent-mindedly scratched his lower stomach, showing off his glorious V muscles that pointed straight to his crotch.

  I swallowed. “Sure. Towels are in the bathroom.”

  “Thanks.”

  Once his footsteps faded, I groaned and threw myself face down into the couch. My sexual frustration had reached a dangerously high level. I yearned, no, needed to join Andrew in the shower before I exploded.

  His hands slide over my naked body while his hard erection presses into my thigh. My whimpers of desire are the only invitation he needs. I bite back a scream as Andrew fills me to the breaking point. Snaking his arm around my waist, he holds me up. My back arches as Andrew thrusts in and out. His thumb sweeps over my clit, building a fierce and furious need.

  “Come for me, baby,” Andrew whispers in my ear.

  The front door slammed open and so did my eyes. Dazed, the sexy daydream went up in in smoke. With embarrassing clarity, I realized my hand was inches from the waistband of my pants. Yes, this was definitely going to be a problem. Monica’s high heels announced her arrival before she did. Panic zapped through my veins and I threw my feet over the edge of the couch. Monica couldn’t know Andrew slept over last night. I wouldn’t hear the end of it until the next millennium.

  I intercepted her path. “Hi, you need to leave.” Shoving her toward the door, Monica dug her heels in and refused to budge. “Seriously. Leave.”

  “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “Nothing, it’s just not a good time.”

  Her arms crossed. “I thought we determined your lack of hot sexy males hiding in your apartment.”

  As if Andrew was summoned, the bathroom door opened and he emerged in a cloud of steam, a towel wrapped around his waist. Broad shoulders lead to a set of chiseled six-pack abs, which glistened with water. My jaw dropped to the floor along with Monica’s.

  “Never mind, I take that back,” Monica uttered. “Looks like somebody found her groove.”

  His lips stretched into a sexy grin. “Hey, I’m Andrew.”

  Monica’s expression morphed into glee as she threw her body forward. “You are THE Andrew?”

  He shot a glance my way, confused. I shrugged and wished I could disappear into the floor. Monica had a talent for embarrassing me.

  “You know, the Andrew who opened that coffee shop last year, helped start that edible food garden, and is basically talented at everything?” she squealed.

  “I guess, but I wouldn’t say I’m good at everything. My lemonade stand failed miserably.”

  Now it was Monica’s turn to look baffled. “Lemonade stand?”

  “Yeah, when I was five I opened a lemonade stand. My mom was my only customer.” He motioned toward my bedroom. “If you will excuse me, I’m going to go change into clothes.”

  Monica stared after him, hands on her hips, head cocked. “I didn’t think he would be so humble.”

  Andrew forged a path very few took and somehow didn’t lose his ego along the way. My respect toward him tripled. Turning her scrutinizing gaze on me, Monica bounced on her heels.

  I could tell she wanted to ask a thousand questions but before she could, I held up my hand. “It is not what you think.”

  “Really? Because it looks like exactly what I think.”

  “Sadly, you’re mistaken. After he picked me up from work, we came back here and fell asleep talking.”

  Although it wasn’t the whole truth, it wasn’t exactly a lie either. At the same time, I don’t know why I didn’t tell Monica about Sumiko and her newfound drug habit that led to stealing five hundred dollars from me. Monica had been my confidante since the third grade. She knew the bad, the ugly, and the uglier parts of my childhood.

  Monica rolled her eyes. “That is so boring. You know what I did last night?”

  “What?”

  “I experienced orgasm nirvana with a gorgeous Latino man named Gabriel.”

  “Awesome. Good for you.”

  A piece of paper clutched in Monica’s fist caught my attention. It looked like it had been torn from the pages of a notebook.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “Oh! I completely forgot.” She smoothed the paper against her jeans and handed it to me. “It was tacked to your door when I came over.”

  Nerves jittered in my stomach. As children Sumiko used to practice her penmanship by writing letters. Her father drilled the idea in her head that a proper young lady had to have a talent. Since Sumiko hated sports and playing music, she chose cursive. A skill she only used on the rare occasion, like now.

  My dearest sister,

  I’m sorry for the pain I caused you. I never intended to fall off the wagon but the nightmares became too real and too frequent until my reality merged with my dreams. Desperation made me crave the sweet numbness drugs offered. Nonetheless, that’s not why I stole the money. Based on the knife Big Ted held to my throat, he will make good on his threat. The five hundred will buy you some time.

  Love,

  Sumiko

  Monica left with explicit instructions to bang Andrew because and I quote, “He is too hot to not bang repeatedly and on the regular.” While I would’ve loved to lose myself in a sweaty round of aerobics, right now wasn’t the time.

  The note Sumiko left had thrown me for a loop, to put it mildly. After his heart attack, Big Ted became a guy who relied on intimidation rather than violence to get shit done. It didn’t make sense why that changed all of a sudden. Sumiko could be lying or Big Ted had grown desperate. When I’d last seen him a year ago, the foundation he had grown his empire on had formed a gaping crevice by the name of Superfly, a newer, younger drug dealer with competitive rates. Big Ted said he wasn’t worried but the panic in his eyes told a different story. I could go ask him point blank, but if my mom did owe him money, I would be screwed. That five hundred dollars was everything I had.

  Andrew found me at the dining room table, gazing blankly into a cold cup of coffee. He saw the note and looked at me for permission to read it. Gesturing at him to go ahead, his mouth moved along with words. When he was done, he folded the note into thirds and tucked into his pocket.

  “What are you doing?” I wondered.

  “In case the police do get involved, this note is evidence.”

  “And you think it’s safer in your pocket than in my apartment?”

  Andrew’s hesitated but his unwavering honesty won. “Well—yes.”

  My molars gritted together as my eyes clouded over with anger. Luckily for Andrew, my emotional limit had hit its peak. Besides, he was most likely right. Underneath my mattress wasn’t the best hiding spot. I saw that now.

  “Ok, but the police aren’t going to get involved. This is a matter between my family and my family only.”

  Andrew’s mouth thinned. His eyes rolled to the ceiling and fixated on a smudge of dirt. I heard him counting backwards from five. An unfamiliar wave of anxiety hit me square in the chest.

  “There is this thing called a door. You are more than welcome to leave. With your art show coming up, I’m sure my family drama is the last item you need on your plate.” My hands wove together in my lap as I blathered on. “Really, I won’t be offended. I’m used to being on my own.”

  I felt his weighty gaze and looked up. Tenacity shined in his eyes and it hit me—Andrew wasn’t going anywhere. We were in this together.

  “Fi
ne,” he conceded. “No cops, but you are staying with me for a couple of days to err on the side of caution.”

  “You want me to stay with you?”

  “Yes.”

  He must be insane. We hadn’t known each other nearly long enough to begin co-habituating. Doesn’t matter if a death threat loomed over my head. This knight in shining armor act had to stop.

  “No way, José. Thank you for taking me home last night, staying over, and making me coffee this morning but that’s as far as your generosity will go. You have done more than enough,” I said.

  “I told you that I wanted to get to know you, whatever that entails.”

  “Yes, but did you really think that meant stolen money and drug dealers? No, so let’s strike a deal. I’ll stay here and you stay in your apartment and we will meet once a week for coffee. That way you know I’m still alive and you have done your civic duty.”

  Andrew snatched my mug. “Why won’t you let me help you?”

  “Because I don’t need help.”

  He let out a snort as he walked into the kitchen. Returning, he slammed a brand new cup of coffee in front of me. Brown liquid sloshed onto the dining room table. I jumped up and grabbed a wad of paper towels.

  “I would appreciate if you left my furniture out of this,” I said.

  Andrew mumbled a string of intelligible words. He slumped into his seat, chin tucked into his chest, arms crossed and pouted like a child. Whenever a bad mood struck, a plate of poor man’s chocolate croissants always cheered me up. It was Wonder Bread smeared with butter and two pieces of chocolate stuffed in between. Thanks to my mom, I could write a recipe book centered on bread.

  “I know what you need,” I said.

  “A woman who doesn’t fight me on EVERYTHING?”

  I pointed my index finger at him. “Hey buddy, I said you could leave.”

  “Meeting you once a week at a coffee shop is a terrible idea. I have an extra room in my loft and ninety-nine percent of my time is spent at my art studio downstairs. You would hardly see me.”

  “Then why would I stay with you if that is the case?”

  “Because it’s safer there then here. You said this Big Ted isn’t dangerous but according to the note, he held a knife to Sumiko’s throat. I think you’re being naïve. Please, it’s just for a few days.”

  Andrew seemed like a standup guy. He was also brilliant, kind and caused butterflies to erupt in my stomach whenever a smile lit up his handsome face. I wanted to trust him. I really truly did but trust doesn’t come easy. As soon as my guard vanished, my true self would be on display. What if he hated the real me? Or most likely, what if everything became too much and he left? There were too many factors left to chance.

  Andrew reached across the table and grabbed my hand. I stared at our entwined fingers. His, calloused and stained with color. Mine, nails bitten to the quick and scarred. We had lived two parallel existences yet somehow fate brought us together. Staying with Andrew wouldn’t be the end of the world. It was only for a few days and as long as my panties stayed on, there shouldn’t be any problems unless he was a pack rat.

  “Are you a clean and orderly person?” I wondered.

  “Is that your way of saying yes?”

  “Answer the question first.”

  Laughing, he squeezed my palm assuredly. “Yes, I’m clean. I’m also a fabulous cook.”

  “And so modest.”

  “Trust me, modesty doesn’t come into play when you try my famous spaghetti and meatballs. Now go pack. My driver will be here in five minutes.”

  I felt as if I’d woken up into a fairy tale—like Cinderella being invited to the Prince’s castle… if Cinderella worked as a barista/shot girl and had a drug addicted mother.

  Andrew’s loft didn’t match the picture I’d painted in my head. Instead of overflowing with books, it was clean, organized, and open. Old factory windows looked out upon a set of trees, branches bare and glittering with frost. Exposed wooden beams ran the length of the ceiling stained a rich mocha. The faded mural on the brick wall in the living room spoke to a past long forgotten. A black iron spiral staircase wound up to the second story.

  He came up behind me. “What do you think? Can you live here for a couple of days?”

  “I can manage.”

  Although I sounded nonchalant, my body wanted to break into a happy dance. Andrew’s home was straight out of the architect digest magazines I used to covet. A whole stack of them sat in my closet along with National Geographic magazines. As a child, they’d given me hope beauty resided in the world.

  Andrew dropped my duffle bag on the floor. “Do you want a tour?”

  “Sure or else I might get lost.”

  “Its only thirteen hundred square feet. Not big enough to get lost in.” He paused thoughtfully. “Unless you’re drunk.”

  “It sounds like that has happened to you before.”

  “Once or twice.”

  He didn’t elaborate further, which led me to believe Andrew’s background wasn’t all rainbows and unicorns. I recognized the darkness that flittered across his gaze. He drank because he wanted to forget, not for enjoyment. Great. Two broken people living in the same space. That sounded like a recipe for success.

  Andrew beckoned me to follow him. We entered a long narrow corridor lined with black and white prints, stunning in their simplicity. Waves crashing against a rocky shore, an over the shoulder shot of a surfer, and a flash of lighting cracking the sky wide open. My footsteps came to resounding halt.

  “Who did these?” I asked in awe.

  “My buddy Mathew took those. He’s an incredible photographer.”

  Relief he didn’t add photographer to his lengthy list of talents coursed through me. Andrew already had enough brilliance in his right pinky toe than my hands and feet combined.

  “Does he sell them?” I longed to own a print for my apartment, although Mathew’s work probably fetched prices out of my range. It didn’t hurt to dream.

  “No, he doesn’t. By day he is a computer programmer and does this as a hobby. He doesn’t want to share his talent with the word. According to Matthew, it’s one thing that is solely his and his alone.”

  “A little melodramatic is he?”

  Andrew drew closer. Pure male exuded out of his pores, raw and primal. My skin heated as his crotch pressed against my behind. A smile could be heard in his voice when he spoke. “He has five kids and a wife. They run him ragged but he secretly loves it.”

  “Do you want that?” I whispered. “A family to call your own?”

  Andrew’s lips brushed against my ear, sending my pulse to skyrocket. I waited with bated breath for an answer I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear.

  “I thought I did once but not anymore.” My shoulders sagged with relief. Andrew chuckled. “I’m guessing we are on the same page.”

  This was an oddly intimate conversation to have facing the wall. I spun around and immediately second-guessed my decision. The air in the room grew thick with sexual chemistry as I fought against his magnetic pull. Alarms blared in my head. Roommates with benefits weren’t part of the package. Obviously, Andrew didn’t get that memo though. Captivated by his eyes as clear as a reflecting pool, he brushed a lock of hair from my face.

  “When I look at you, I see color. Oranges, pinks, turquoise, and deep purples. You’re Technicolor amongst an otherwise bland world.”

  My breath snagged in my throat. “No I’m not. I’m grays, black, and muted beige.”

  “One day you’ll see how I see you and that day will be the greatest day of my life because then you’ll know you’re worth more than gold.”

  His words poked at a raw and vulnerable place hidden amongst the scars. I acted self confident and assured, but it was a ruse. How did Andrew know that? My eyes fell to the floor.

  He lifted my chin with the tip of his finger. Using his thumb as a paintbrush, he painted the lines of my face. With each feather light touch, the passion in his eyes grew brighter.<
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  I could feel myself unraveling, thread by thread until there was nothing left. “Just fucking kiss me,” I growled.

  As if coming out of a trance, Andrew stumbled backwards. His gaze became unfocused and wild. The cold slap of rejection sunk into my bones.

  “Forgive me.” Andrew looked at his hands and shoved them into his pockets. “That was uncalled for.”

  He skittered away before I could say otherwise. My back slid against the wall and I tucked my knees to my chest. Bewildered tears clogged my throat. Anybody in his right mind would have heard the need in my voice, so why did Andrew act like he’d stolen my virginity?

  Andrew had gone MIA. I had half a mind to leave but my demand for answers overruled logic. Also, he had a sixty-inch television with a thousand and one channels and counting. Engrossed in a Sex and the City marathon, I didn’t hear the front door open or the corresponding footsteps.

  “Who are you?”

  The popcorn bowl flew out of my lap, spilling all over the carpet. I slapped my hand against my chest. “Holy shit, you scared the crap out of me.”

  “Who are you?” he asked again, his tone covered in a thick sheet of ice.

  My gaze traveled upwards. A man stood in Andrew’s living room, shooting daggers at me. He looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks and or done laundry. Food stains covered his white t-shirt while his jeans were snipped off at the ankle. A thick mop of brown hair flopped over his forehead. Underneath the grime though was a handsome man.

  “Don’t you think you should answer that question first? Considering you are the one who barged in here,” I stated.

  “I need beer.”

  “You need a shower.”

  His lips quirked into a half smile. “Not that I should have to explain myself but I have been working for the past thirty-six hours.”

  “Doing what? Begging for change?”

  “Writing code.”

  It hit me like a pile of bricks—the incredible black and white prints were the work of the man standing before me.