Chapter 7
July 2nd 2011 2:36 p.m.
"Do you ever miss sex?"
Liz's question came so unexpectedly I had to clamp a hand over my mouth to keep my soda from spraying all over the steering wheel. It burned my nostrils, all those tiny fizzy bubbles threatening to shoot upward and outward.
I blindly set my cup in the cup holder and took the rough paper napkin Liz offered me, dabbing at my nose.
"Miss sex?" I asked, though I’d heard her loud and clear.
"Yeah. I know you're kinda in a dry spell. I'm just curious if you miss it or if you even think about it."
"Do you miss it?" I threw back at her, knowing she wasn't getting her cookies either. It had the desired effect. A glance to the side found her tugging at a blond curl, her lip captured in her teeth.
"Yes. I mean I guess I do," she answered shyly. "I've never been the sex-starved type, but I don't know how much longer I can go before I explode."
Oh. Okay.
So we’re actually going to have this conversation.
Her forthright surprised me. She was my best friend, and these were the things best friends were supposed to talk about, but the fact that she was so open about her sex life was something I could not empathize with. Unlike her, I couldn't chit chat about my sexcapades. It was just something I preferred to keep private.
Honestly I hadn't even thought of Liz as a sexual creature until recently. She was too small, too introverted, too... Liz. It seemed wrong to think of her getting all hot and sweaty with someone. Not because that someone would have been female—I honestly couldn't give less of a shit about that—but because she was like a kid sister to me.
So when she'd asked me if the club I danced at was looking for dancers, I’d been completely thrown. It so didn’t fall in line with how I saw her. But since she asked, and I didn't want to see her starve, I pulled a few strings and got her an audition. To my complete surprise, she not only went through with it, but she'd nailed it. Andre was so happy he'd been gushing about her debut for the last few days.
Liz's sudden silence was unsettling. She looked embarrassed at having said what she’d said. She was tensed up, her knees jerking and fidgeting in the small leg space on the passenger side.
"Sometimes," I offered her, "but it's never been something that I needed." That was a lie. With Frank I always seemed to need his touch, his kiss, his warmth. I craved him in a way that edged on desperation. It scared the shit out of me. "I mean... I know what it's like to need a specific person, but when I don't have a guy to paw it just doesn't seem to bug me."
"How can you dance the way you do every night and not feel all revved up? It doesn't turn you on to know you're the object of desire for those men in the club?" The question was innocent enough, but it brought a slight burn to my cheeks hearing it like that.
"It's an illusion, Liz. Dancing doesn't turn me on. It's just something fun to do. Afterwards, I don't need a cold shower for anything more than cleaning the sweat and smoke off my skin," I shrugged as the car started forward again. "Why do you ask?"
She went quiet beside me. I counted about three city blocks before she drew breath to answer.
"I don't know. Just... wondering," she said, but she sounded utterly defeated about something.
"Do you ruminate about my sex life often?" I flashed her a toothy grin for the use of my newest four-dollar word.
"I just mean," she started again after rolling her eyes at me. "We've been friends for a while, and I don't think I've ever seen you with anyone. A date, a fling, nothing. That's a long time to hold it all in without even a little..."
I was suddenly very interested in my steering wheel. Was she getting at what I think she was getting at? Liz had never come onto me before, but she was beating around the bush about something. Too nervous to get the words out.
"I... Liz, I..." I couldn't get my mouth to cooperate with my head. "You know I love you. I just... I'm not... into women. Nothing against it, but it's not my thing and you're like a... a sister to me, you know?"
It got dead silent on the other side of the car. I couldn't help but feel guilty for having rejected my friend, but it was better than leading her on. I'd never expected her to have those sorts of feelings towards me. Then again, maybe she was just trying to be a friend in offering to ease some of my tension. It was a sweet gesture, even if it made me feel a bit awkward.
I risked a sideways glance and found her staring at me with those large blue eyes. Her face was tense, eyes wide. When I pulled into the parking lot, I saw her turn forward, resting her face down into her hands, her shoulders beginning to shake. It was slow at first, but soon her shoulders bobbed up and down at an increasing pace.
"Shit," I whispered before pulling into the nearest empty spot, cutting off a black Lexus that was getting ready to pull into it. I ignored the honking and colorful insults outside my window and turned as much as my seat belt would allow.
"Liz. Liz, I'm sorry. Please don't cry. I just," but the sound that suddenly came out from those hands sounded nothing like tears.
A high cackling erupted from her, and her hands dropped away. Liz wasn't crying. She was laughing with a face-splitting smile.
"Oh my God... you wish," she said finally, her baby blues shining with tears of laughter.
I stared at her completely dumbfounded.
"Ohhh... Please don't cry. I'm just not that way. I like sausage not tacos." Her voice was high and teasing, and honestly didn't sound like me at all, thank you very much. I narrowed eyes at her as she laughed at my expense. "Jeez, ego much?"
"Not fucking funny, Liz," I said, shortly.
"Bullshit. It's hilarious. Your face."
"Ha, fucking, ha. Way to make me feel like a jerk," I said, snatching the keys from the ignition.
Liz opened up her door and I followed, looking at her over the top of my Toyota.
"I wasn't trying to at first, but you started getting all weird. I couldn't help myself. Don't be a bitch about it. It was funny. And very, very sweet," she giggled, meeting me behind the car.
I glared at her, shook my head, and pretended to be mad. In all honesty, I wanted to laugh, too. I just wouldn't give her the satisfaction.
"Tell me why we're here again," I said, attempting to divert the subject to something less embarrassing.
I wasn't complaining, exactly. The air-conditioned shop felt amazing after the twenty minute ride in my junky old car. Typically, the lack of cold air didn't bother me. Freon was a luxury my limited budget couldn't afford. However, today was a scorching 97 degrees, and even I felt the sweltering misery after five minutes in the tiny car.
"I told you, I need some clothes. Can't a girl spoil herself?" Liz smiled at me over the circular rack of bedazzled ribbed tanks.
"When you got the money to splurge, why not?" I said as I idly began thumbing through the clothes.
The shop was one we frequented often. Full of low cost, secondhand clothes that weren't in season anymore. There were even some vintage dresses and accessories behind the counter. I loved to find a good buy and modernize it, mix and match things to make cute outfits. I tended to be more down-to-earth in my fashion choices as long as we weren’t counting my studded bustier and leather chaps I wore at work.
"Oh, damn. Check this out," Liz exclaimed as she pulled a hanger from the rack.
I walked around until she came into view, clutching a deep red dress in her hands. Despite her momentary excitement, her face had a look of disappointment on it as she stared down at the dress.
"Damn, they don't got it in my size," she looked up at me, sized me up, then smiled. "You should try it on!"
"I'm good," I said.
"Harley," my name came out in a whine, "you'll look hot, I promise. Just try it on. Humor me."
She was being unusually pushy. With a roll of my eyes, I snatched the hanger from her and headed towards the fitting room. I could hear her bobbing along behind me excitedly, and even imagined she was clapping her hands tog
ether gleefully at my surrender.
It was hard to fight her. Lizbeth was really, truly, one of the sweetest girls I'd ever met. Most of the time I wanted nothing more than to see her happy. But then there were times like this where her happiness would come at my expense.
I ducked into the fitting room and locked the door. As I undressed, I looked at the red thing hanging against the wall beside me. My stomach tightened as the slip of a dress stared back at me, tauntingly. I didn't like it. In fact, I made a big point to avoid wearing anything red ever again.
"So," Liz called out from the other side of the door, "you're going to think this is funny."
I quirked my eyebrows at that before pulling the dress off the hanger, "Why do I have the feeling that is so not what I am going to think?"
She completely ignored me.
"You remember that guy I was telling you about last week? Braedon?"
"Sure."
"Well, turns out his ex that dumped him is already engaged to another guy," she said.
"Damn. That's harsh. Didn't take long, did it?" I said, not really thinking anything of it. I was too busy slipping on the little red dress and trying to zip it up.
"Yeah, that's what I said. Anyway," her voice became uncertain, "I thought, maybe, it was time for him to move on. Find a good girl to take his mind off the heifer. I figured... maybe you two could..."
"So not interested, Liz."
"I know you aren't really into the dating scene and all, but he's really sweet and charming and really, really good-looking. I mean, if you're into men and all."
"Liz," I said, searching for any excuse that would get her to drop this insanity without hurting her feelings, "I don't have time to date. Dinners and movies and dancing aren’t really something I can do with my schedule. You know that. I work all night."
"I know," she said confidently before her voice wavered again. "That's why I told him you'd meet him for an early supper tonight."
It took a full thirty seconds for her words to register. I stopped craning my arm back to try and catch the zipper pull and just stared, open-mouthed, at the door between us. Is she out of her mind?! Why would she set me up on a blind date without even asking me first?
"Liz!" I finally shrieked, unlocking the door and swinging it open, "you didn't!"
Liz stumbled as the door she'd been leaning against was no longer there to support her weight. Her hands caught on either side of the door and she looked up at me with a timid smile. That smile faded as she saw the dress on me.
"Holy shit, Harley. You're fucking smokin'," she breathed.
Unfortunately for her, I didn't care. One, I hated the dress. It brought back memories of Frank, of his reaction to the sight of me in that whorish dress he'd bought and later that same night when he'd hit me. Two, I was more worried about the fact that Liz had set me up on a blind date. And as a rebound chick, no less!
"Liz, I can't go on a date with this guy," I said, swallowing my irritation.
"Why not? He really is a good guy, Harley," she said.
"And that's good for him, but I am not in any state to be in a relationship with anyone. I don't need or want it."
"Oh, Jesus, Harley! What is so bad about meeting a cute guy? No one is making you marry him. Hell, you don't even got to sleep with him!"
"How generous of you," I said dryly.
"Seriously. You never have fun. You work, you study, and you stay home, alone, all day. When was the last time you just did something out of your routine? That you let your hair down and enjoyed the freedom of being an unattached grownup?"
The truth was I'd had enough 'fun' for a lifetime. Reliable routine was a blessed thing; not having to answer to or rely on anyone else was a godsend. Sure, it could get lonely. I was still alive. I had needs. I just refused to pay the price that comes with it. I opened my mouth to tell her that, but Liz's pleading blue eyes stopped me.
"I thought you wanted me to see you dance tonight," I said, trying another tactic.
"You can come to the club after," she answered way too quickly.
"It's your first night—"
"And you'll be there to support me like a good best friend. After your date."
"Liz..."
"One date. He's a really good guy and he needs a night of fun as much as you do. Just... have dinner with him. If you don't like him after tonight, you never need to talk to him again, I promise." Her eyes fell to the dress again, and she smiled. "Hey, you can even wear that. He'd be putty in your hands."
I turned around and looked at my reflection. The dress wasn't nearly as hookerish as the one Frank had given me, but it was the exact same shade of red. My new honey-blond hair and the deep red color of the dress made my skin look tanner than usual, and she was right, it looked amazing on me, but I just could not shake the memories. I couldn't function wearing the thing.
"Fine. I'll go. But I am not wearing this. I'll wear something out of my closet, and he'll either like it or..." I stopped, shrugged. "Honestly I don't care."
Liz erupted behind me, throwing her arms over my shoulders and hugging my neck. Her giggles were musical and the warmth in her voice as I conceded made me smile. I liked her to be happy, even when it was at my own expense.
A few hours later, I pulled up to The Java Jive. When I first moved into town, I'd gotten a job there as an early morning barista. It was the worst week of my life. I wasn't exactly a morning person to begin with, but add in dozens of high maintenance, snooty, rude ass customers and that was a recipe for disaster. Thankfully, I'd found the club before I went postal and was able to find a taste for coffee again.
Why am I doing this? I asked myself. I could have just stood the guy up.
No, I chided myself. It wasn't his fault I was a mess. I could imagine, after the ordeal his ex had apparently put him through, how he would feel sitting there waiting for me. The idea of crushing someone's self-esteem didn't sit well with me. I'd had my fill of feeling unwanted and cast aside, of being unimportant as a person. I couldn't do that to another human being. Against my better judgment, I parked the car and headed inside.
According to Liz, I was looking for a clean twenty-five-year-old man with dark brown hair and dimples that tugged at my heart strings.
The fact that she listed ‘clean’ as one of his strong suits made me wonder what sort of men the girl thought I was drawn to. Just because I was an exotic dancer—Okay, a stripper—that didn't mean I was drawn to the oily, sleazy, scumbag types.
So, Frank wasn't exactly wholesome and clean cut, but I had never divulged that part of my life with my friend so she could hardly hold that against me.
A hand waved at me from the corner of the coffee shop. There, sitting in a window-side booth, was Braedon McClawden. His hair was shining and well-styled. Emerald eyes sparkled with delight as he flagged me over. All right. Clean was definitely a good word for him. He practically sparkled with good grooming.
As I drew closer to the booth, he stood. No kidding. The man actually stood like an honest-to-God gentleman and waited for me to sit down.
"Wow," he said. His face and tensed shoulders gave me the impression it had slipped out before he could stop himself. "Sorry, Hi. I'm Braedon."
"Harley," I said, forcing a smile.
"Well, it's nice to finally meet you. Liz told me a lot about you."
"Did she, now?" I asked, quirking my brow.
That was interesting, considering she hadn't even told me about this date until today. He looked at me, fidgeted a bit, and finally laughed. It was soft, and with it, he released a breath he'd been holding.
"No, actually," he admitted. "She just told me your name, that you were single, and that you were gorgeous. She obviously downplayed that last bit."
Now, I'd had some horrendously cheesy pickup lines thrown my way before. So much so that there was barely a line a guy could say that would give him any credit. However, the smooth way the compliment flowed from his lips, which were a very kissable pout by the way, reached t
hat jaded part of me and thawed it.
I smiled at him. Not the tight lipped, I’m-only-doing-this-to-be-nice smile that came from doing a friend a favor, but a genuine smile that I felt in my cheeks.
So maybe Liz hadn't done such a horrible thing in setting this up. He was handsome enough and seemed sweet. If anything I could enjoy myself for one night and maybe make a new friend. No harm in that.
"Alright, can I make a tiny confession?" I asked him, easing back into my seat.
"Oh, already? I thought confessions and soul bearing would come after a few cocktails but," he breathed bracingly before flashing me a perfect smile, "Shoot."
I laughed.
"I didn't want to meet you," I blurted out.
"Ouch," he said with a grin.
I laughed again. It felt good.
"But... I am going to do something completely out of character for myself. I'm going to ignore all my instincts and all the negativity I like to hold onto, and I am going to allow myself to have fun." That earned another smile from him. "But if Liz asks, I was completely moody and sarcastic the entire night. Just really miserable to be around. In fact, I cursed her name more than once and nearly drove you to tears with my snarky attitude. Whether or not you actually ended up crying from heartbreak," I wagged my hand back and forth. "Eh, I'll leave that up to you."
"Well," he laughed, his eyes twinkling, "I think that is doable. But, if you don't mind, I didn't cry until I made it home. Manlier than breaking down in public, I think."
He had an ease about him that I really found refreshing. He didn't bristle at the implications against his manliness or take offense to what I'd said. He simply let it roll off his shoulders and took it in stride. He was so comfortable with himself that he didn't feel threatened by it. Didn't appear to need to defend his virility. Maybe there was hope for the opposite sex, yet.
"Now that we've gotten that out of the way," he said, "let's get that coffee."
"You know what," I said with a glance to the little menu under my hand. "I really don't like coffee that much anymore. I'd rather have a cocktail. You wanna go grab some real dinner?"
He flashed that perfect smile again, and while he considered my offer, I considered him.
Now that I wasn't fighting against myself, I was able to really appreciate the man in front of me. He really was handsome, not in the rugged sense, nothing like Frank, but in a softer way. Soft in the way that he'd had an easy, cushy life where nothing more than a broken heart wounded him. His eyes glittered with his smile and made me almost wish I could let him pull me into that serene happiness.
"Yeah," he said. "I think I'd like that. After you."
He stood and waited for me to move away from the booth before he followed. Never able to truly let go of my paranoia, I glanced over my shoulder to look to the man behind me. He was laying a folded five dollar bill on the table and tucking his wallet back into his pocket.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"Tip."
"But we didn't order anything."
"No. But we held their table up when they could have been making money," he said before catching up to me.
I was completely thrown by the gesture. Good looking, funny, and generous? Oh, Liz... and it's not even my birthday.
It almost seemed like this guy was too good to be true. That thought took the wind out of my sails a little, but I tried not to look too much into it. For once, I wanted to relax and have a good time. That fact, alone, surprised me.
Deny the Moon Page 13
