This One’s For You

by Holloway, Taylor

  He tasted like spearmint and impulsivity, but I wasn’t about to let a little bad decision-making get in between me and a good time. I leaned into his kiss, yielding instantly when his tongue flicked against my lips and then sighing into his expert exploration of my mouth. I missed being kissed, and I especially missed being kissed like this.

  Ian got up from the couch and very slowly, very obviously moved to sit next to me. He gave me plenty of time to get up and move away. Plenty of time to change my mind. But my mind was already made up.

  When he turned to kiss me again, I reached up to bury my hands in his curly hair. It was every bit as soft as it looked. I felt him smile into our kiss, and he put his arms around me in return. Does anything feel as good as being held? At that moment I couldn’t think of anything.

  Rationally, I understood that I was making out with the guy that got thrown out of the world’s biggest rock band for being too much of a liability. Ian had been in the tabloids since I was in high school. He once famously got arrested for being drunk and disorderly at the Alamo. As a native Texan, that basically made him a traitor. But God, could he kiss.

  “I didn’t call you for this,” he said when he pulled away. “I promise I only called you to play Scrabble.”

  “You didn’t call me at all,” I reminded him between kisses. “You texted me.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  He sounded almost apologetic. I didn’t understand. I just wanted him to kiss me and make me forget everything else but him for a while. That’s what I needed right now.

  Him. His body. His attention.

  I didn’t need promises or feelings and I wasn’t sure I wanted them. I guess a lot of girls probably wanted to feel special when they were with him. I assumed he was with a lot of girls. I didn’t need him to lie to me. I didn’t need to believe he was in love with me, because I knew it was impossible. He only wanted to sleep with me, and I was okay with that.

  “You don’t have to say that to me. You don’t need to pretend this is something it’s not.”

  He hesitated. “Vanessa, I—”

  I shook my head and pulled him back to me. “Don’t. Please. Just kiss me, okay?”

  That seemed to convince him, or maybe the intensity of my next kiss did the trick. He came back to my arms and we picked up where we left off. Time passed, or at least I think it did, but I was so present in the moment that I hardly felt it go. All I thought about was his hands on my body and his mouth on mine. I felt like I was floating.

  Ian pushed me back into the cushions of the couch and got on top of me. I felt his weight and something clenched inside me, reminding me that this could be more. It could be even better than it was, if only we could get rid of all these clothes…

  His hands pressed against me, against the curves of my body over my blouse. I touched him back, running my hands along his chest and back, lifting his T-shirt to run my fingers over his skin. He reached up and pulled his T-shirt off, revealing a torso that was covered in almost as much ink as had been covered by fabric, and taut, smooth muscles. He dropped the shirt to the ground, staring at me.

  He looked down at me, seemingly unsure. Was he waiting for me to say something about his body? To pass judgement on him? How silly. He was perfect.

  I touched his chest, running my fingers over an intricate, geometric design that covered his heart. Whoever had done all this work was very talented. I thought the tattoo was abstract at first, but it wasn’t. It was actually a stylized cross. He shivered against my fingers and I wondered if I was right. Was he somehow self-conscious? How could anyone so outwardly confident and famously lucky with women be self-conscious? And with me of all people. It was ridiculous.

  “I like this,” I told him, pulling apart the first two buttons on my blouse. It was one of my favorites, a light blue, silk button-down that hugged my curves. “I like you.”

  “We’re going too fast.” He said that, but he was staring at my chest like he was hypnotized. I arched my back and watched his pupils dilate in a very satisfying way.

  “Do you want to slow down?” I didn’t. I pulled another two buttons apart, revealing the black, lace demi bra that I’d worn because it was the only one that I owned which was remotely sexy. After my accident I’d lost a significant amount of weight and a cup size. Neither one had returned. I had mostly resigned myself to being a C cup from now on, but sometimes I felt less sexy and desirable as a result. Under Ian’s gaze, I felt beautiful again.

  “You’re so sexy,” he told me, touching the tops of my exposed breasts with his fingertips before cupping me from below. He seemed torn. “I wish we weren’t on my friend’s couch right now.”

  I didn’t care where we were, so long as we were together and uninterrupted.

  “When are they coming home?” I asked him.

  “Not for a while,” he admitted.

  I pulled my arms out of my shirt and Ian stared. The rush of cold air made my nipples harden, and he looked down at me in unabashed appreciation. I probably should have felt scared or vulnerable or something. Ian was basically a stranger and I was pushing us towards a point where neither one of us would be able to stop. The point of no return was rapidly approaching, and I didn’t care. I grabbed his hand and guided it back to my chest. His breath caught and I sighed under his gentle touch.

  “Then you can keep on kissing me for a while.”

  9

  Ian

  Neither one of us heard the front door open or the footsteps down the hall. It wasn’t until Jason cleared his throat conspicuously that we even looked up. Jason and Wendy stared back disapprovingly. In their black-tie attire, they somehow looked even more stern and disappointed than usual.

  Vanessa made a high-pitched little noise and reached to pull her blouse back together in an embarrassed rush. I scrambled off her in the same moment, going vertical and groping for my lost shirt on the floor. In the frantic moment, her elbow connected with my nose with enough force to result in a horrible, decisive crunching noise.

  Not good. That noise was never good.

  The pain arrived a moment later.

  Ow.

  Holy shit.

  Ow.

  For a moment, all I saw were stars dancing in front of my eyes. The pain was blinding. It was in that moment of shouting and blood flowing down my face, that I knew that I deserved this. It was karma. This was the universe paying me back for being a dumbass.

  Wendy dashed off to see to a rudely awakened, wailing Lachlan, Jason was swearing a blue streak and going a bit green (he hates blood), and Vanessa was staring at me like she’d just committed a murder. Her shirt was still partially unbuttoned, and blood was absolutely everywhere. It was, hands down, the worst moment of recent memory.

  “I’m okay,” I muttered through the hot flow of blood. “I’m fine.”

  I didn’t sound very convincing. Vanessa certainly didn’t look convinced. Jason gagged and staggered to sit down.

  Even though I deserved a bloody nose, I really didn’t stand a chance against Vanessa’s advances. Topless, Vanessa could convince me to do all manner of stupid shit. She could convince me to walk off a cliff without every saying a word. Her tits were that good. They were worth the pain.

  Even so, I knew with absolute, unwavering certainty that it was a bad idea to make out with her while Lachlan slept in the other room and I awaited Jason and Wendy’s return. It was poor decision-making. I might not be super smart, but I understood that it was a stupid decision to have her over. I never should have invited Vanessa over without Jason and Wendy’s permission, period. I was a terrible babysitter. Hell, I wasn’t even a good guy.

  Even though my blood was now all over her (the unfortunate consequence of being beneath me when the elbowing occurred), Vanessa managed to maintain her composure. My respect for her skyrocketed even as my chances with her nosedived.

  “Don’t try to stop the bleeding,” she told me. “Sit up, lean forward, and breathe through your mouth.”

 
She eyed Jason, who was dry heaving. “Hi, I’m a big fan. But if the blood makes you nauseous, the best thing you can do is go in the other room and get a towel and some ice for Ian. If you have high-proof liquor, pour yourself a little bit and smell it before you come back. It’ll cut through the nausea.” Her voice was so authoritative, no one in their right mind would argue with her.

  Jason didn’t. He shuffled off obediently, clearly happier to have someone else be in charge, even if it was a stranger. He did, however, maintain enough of his personality to shoot me an ‘I’m going to murder you’ look as he went.

  “Okay, Ian,” Vanessa told me, “you might have a broken nose, but I doubt it. You’re going to keep upright and let the blood clot naturally. Then, tomorrow, if you can’t breathe through your nose or if it looks really swollen, you’re going to go to a doctor.” Her tone was soothing and even, although I could only imagine she was utterly mortified by the entire situation.

  “I forgot you were an EMT,” I mumbled as Wendy came back into the room. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Even though I did this to you?” she hissed incredulously.

  “I did this to myself,” I said miserably. “This is all my fault.”

  “That’s where I recognize you from!” Wendy exclaimed. Jason appeared at her elbow, holding a towel wrapped around some ice. The three of us stared at Wendy who was staring at Vanessa in disbelief. “I know you. I remember you. You’re an EMT.”

  Vanessa grabbed the improvised ice pack from Jason, applied it to the side of my face, and then turned back to Wendy. “I, um, I used to be an EMT. Have we met before… this?”

  Wendy nodded. “Yeah, we have. It was more than a year ago, but you were the one who responded when I, uh, stabbed a guy with a corkscrew when he tried to assault me. It was behind the Lone Star Lounge.”

  Vanessa blinked. “I, um, I actually don’t even remember that. That just goes to show how much messed up stuff I’ve seen, I guess. Were you injured or just him?”

  “Just him,” Wendy said. There was a note of pride in her voice. At her side, Jason smiled at the memory.

  “Did he die?” Vanessa sounded totally unconcerned for Wendy’s assailant’s wellbeing. It occurred to me then that Vanessa had probably seen so many people die that she couldn’t keep track of them anymore. I couldn’t conceive of such a thing. “I feel like I would remember death-by-corkscrew.”

  Wendy shook her head. “No. He was okay. He got arrested.”

  Vanessa seemed slightly disappointed. “I couldn’t say it then, but I’m off the clock permanently now. Next time you should aim for the throat or genitals,” she said seriously. “You can bleed out in under four minutes if the carotid artery is severed, and it’s not a pleasant way to go.”

  “Good to know.”

  The two women exchanged a smile that reminded me not to judge on appearances. I’d almost forgotten about that little incident. Wendy was such a wholesome, petite, little cheerleader type. Not at all the sort you’d expect to go around stabbing people in alleyways. That being said, the dirt bag that attacked her deserved a good stabbing or two. I didn’t pity him at all. There’s a special place in hell for men that hurt women.

  “Um, I’m Vanessa by the way,” Vanessa said after a moment that I realized was my opportunity to introduce her. “This is pretty much the worst possible way to meet someone, so I’ll just get out of your way now.”

  Wendy and Jason looked over at me, sitting bloodied and useless and surrounded by Scrabble tiles. Jason said nothing, clearly overwhelmed, but Wendy smiled. “It’s actually very nice to meet you, Vanessa, although I agree the circumstances could probably be better. Maybe we’ll see each other around.”

  Vanessa cringed, nodded, and then high tailed it toward the door without a backward glance at me, Jason, or Wendy. “Sorry for messing up your night,” she said over her shoulder.

  I felt like I should say something, but my head was pounding, and I felt like a fool. I’m sure I looked like one, too. I let her go.

  Once she was out of sight, Jason and Wendy turned to me.

  “I can explain.”

  10

  Vanessa

  My favorite blouse was totally ruined. I went for the hydrogen peroxide as soon as I got home, but even knowing all the best blood-removal tips that a few years as an EMT can earn, I couldn’t save the silk. It was a lost cause. Kind of like my chances with Ian.

  What the hell had I been thinking? I couldn’t believe I’d acted so stupidly. And then to top it off by whacking Ian in the face and maybe breaking his nose? Very smooth, Vanessa, very smooth.

  I tried reaching out to my friend, Caroline, but she was living in freakin’ Botswana these days, so I couldn’t rely on her for emotional support the same way I used to when she lived down the hall. She didn’t pick up. My other closest friend, Faith, had a small baby of her own and I knew calling would be disruptive. Her husband was a surgeon and she was a nurse that worked long hours, so their sleep time was doubly vital. Tonight, I was on my own.

  I don’t do well on my own.

  I binged a pint of Ben and Jerry’s that was lurking in the fridge, put on a playlist I was sure included absolutely zero Axial Tilt, and wished that I’d never been born.

  Ian texted me, but I didn’t let myself look at it. I didn’t have the heart to deal with rejection on top of everything else at the moment. I’d been impulsive and my plan to drown my worries in lust had backfired horribly. It served me right for answering a booty call in the first place.

  I slept in the next day. I figured that I’d earned myself a good, long wallow in self-pity. Spending the next fifteen hours ignoring my phone and wishing I’d never been born sounded like a great idea, but eventually I realized it was only making me feel worse. And hungry.

  Taking a shower helped return me to normal, and eating a meal helped even more. Even though the mortification was still extremely fresh, I couldn’t bury my head in blankets forever. I needed to figure out my next freelance gigs before my bank account dried up and I had to move in with my mom. That would be the ultimate blow to my pride. Even worse than looking up and seeing Jason and Wendy last night or walking out of that apartment with my tail between my legs.

  So, with the knowledge that my livelihood was at risk, when my phone rang from an unknown number, I didn’t ignore it or send it to voicemail. It took all my big-girl willpower, but I answered. I might be standing in my kitchen wearing pajamas at two p.m. and eating a hot pocket, but nobody needed to know that. I stood up straight and put on my professional voice.

  “This is Vanessa Evans.” I sounded reasonably normal. I could almost believe that the woman on the phone wouldn’t be foolish enough to go make out with a rock star like a teenager and then potentially break his nose when surprised by the parents of the child he was supposed to be watching. Almost.

  “Hi, Vanessa. This is Don Francisco. I’m Axial Tilt’s manager. We met the other night?”

  “Oh, yes. Hi.”

  I hadn’t heard from him since sending the video he commissioned two days ago. I had sent my invoice at the same time, however, and gotten paid within five hours.

  “Our fans really liked your video. The response was way more than we expected. I was wondering if you want to shoot another Axial Tilt show tonight. Are you available?”

  I swallowed hard. Really? He wanted to hire me after the whole thing at Jason Kane’s apartment? I could only assume that he didn’t know.

  “I, um—”

  “I’ll pay you double what you worked for last time. This is a longer show, and we’d like to keep the tone consistent with your other work.”

  My jaw was not responding. I shook my head from side to side to clear it. “What time is the show?”

  “Nine.”

  “I’ll send you a contract.”

  * * *

  A few hours and a lot of psyching myself up later, and I arrived to the venue with my cameras and all the self-respect I could scrape together. The ban
d wasn’t even there yet when I arrived, so I had plenty of time to set up. I get into a good grove when I work alone, so I managed to feel halfway normal until Ian appeared as I was messing with the stage-left camera. We stared at one another awkwardly, and I wondered if the smile he was wearing was even remotely real. In his business, Ian probably had plenty of practice in faking his emotions.

  “I was worried you’d ghost on me forever and I’d never get to see you again and apologize,” he said after a moment of awkwardness. His nose was a little bit swollen and red, but the damage was far less extensive than it could have been. Getting the ice on it almost immediately had helped. Looking at him still made me feel like a monster, so I stared down at my feet.

  “Are you able to breathe through your nose?” I asked, examining my work boots for smudges. I was dressed in all black to blend in with the rest of the crew, so I probably looked like a vampire. Sometimes the goth thing can be a good look for me, but with the bright red blush I knew I was wearing, probably not at that moment.

  “Yeah, I feel okay,” Ian replied.

  “How long did it take the bleeding to stop?”

  “About fifteen minutes?”

  “Any crunching or grinding when you inhale?”

  “No. I’m fine. Really.” I kept on staring at my feet. Ian sighed. “Vanessa, I’m really sorry about last night. Have I ruined everything?”

  I looked up at him.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You aren’t going to want to see me again, are you?”