by Brisa Starr
“You still hung up on that jerk, Lance?”
“Heavens no!”
Although it hurt when he left, I’m way over him. It didn’t take long either.
Sally puts her hand on mine. “You know, Ash, your dad seems like he’s doing great. I love that you guys are gonna start comin’ in here. I look forward to seeing him around. And you’re right, I might just put his ass to work.” She smiles.
“That’d be great,” I tell her. “I think it’d be good for him to have a little retirement job.”
“Well, lemme see what I can do,” she says.
Another customer comes in, and Sally gets up to take his order. I’m left sitting there, thinking about her comments about Luke. Why is everybody seeing something that’s not there? Well, OK, something’s there, but Luke and I have chosen to ignore it. Because that’s the smart thing to do, and I’m a smart-doing kind of woman.
I get up and pack my book in my purse. I walk over to my dad and kiss him goodbye, reminding him to pick me up from work at 5:00 p.m. As I’m leaving the café, I turn around and look back at him once more, and he’s smiling and enjoying his friends. It was a good idea coming here.
The sun is setting when Dad and I finish our delicious cream cheese and carrot sandwiches. There’s a knock at the door, and my heart speeds up. I wasn’t expecting Luke, but I’d love to see him. Our morning run ended too soon, and I want to be with him again.
I open the door, and a thin guy with dark hair in blue jeans and a T-shirt is standing on my porch.
It’s Lance.
My heart drops, partly because it’s not Luke, but also because it’s Lance.
“Lance? Um. Hi.”
“Hey, Ash,” he says.
“Is everything OK? Why are you here?”
“Yes. I mean yes, and, well, no.” He puts his hands in his pockets and shifts his weight. “I wanted to see you. Can we talk?”
I can’t imagine why he might want to talk to me.
“Sure. Hold on.”
I call out to my dad, “Hey, Dad… um, Lance is here. We’re going outside to talk.”
My dad gets up to greet Lance. I’m sure it’s just to be polite. They shake hands, but I see my dad squint his eyes at Lance, assessing him, no doubt wondering about his intentions. As am I, frankly. As my dad leaves us alone for some privacy, he says, “Ash, call me if you need me.”
I chuckle at my protective dad. “I’ll be fine.”
Lance is hardly a threat. Our breakup was peaceful, but I had my share of crying. We were going to get married, even started planning it all. In fact, I was just a few days from buying my dress.
Dodged a bullet.
In more ways than one.
I was devastated at first, but I soon realized he wasn’t the one for me. It was better Lance ended it. In fact, I should thank him.
He’s nothing like Luke.
Not that Luke is the one either, because that’s not gonna happen. But the passion I felt kissing Luke, and the electricity sizzling between us every time he touches me, every millisecond I’m in his presence... well, I had nothing like that with Lance. Not even once.
I sit down on the porch steps, and Lance sits down next to me. It’s getting dark now, but there’s a warm glow from the porch light, and fluttering moths keep bonking into it. Lance turns to face me and says, “Ash. I’ve been thinking. A lot. And I miss you.”
I do a double take, and my neck stiffens. A bark of laughter escapes my throat. “What?”
He flinches at my response but says, “I miss you, and I was wrong to break it off.”
I’m stunned.
I don’t get it.
“You don’t call, or text, or email in months. Many months. And then you show up on my doorstep and say that you miss me?” I scratch my throat and look away from him. “Um, how are you expecting me to respond to this?”
He reaches out and grabs my hand. I’m too stunned to pull away. And his hand is familiar, which has its own weird element of comfort. His cologne hits my nostrils, and while I used to like it, he smells nothing like Luke, and my heart deflates like a whoopee cushion.
“Well,” he says, “I was kinda hoping you’d jump into my arms and tell me you missed me, and that you forgive me.” He laughs and rubs his hand down his pant legs.
If there was one thing Lance had going for him, he was funny. It was one of his more endearing qualities.
He launches into a lengthy monologue. “I’m so sorry that I hurt you, and that my breaking it off was confusing to you, but to be honest, it was my parents.” I’m stunned, and my face shows it. He sees it and continues. “My family liked you and everything, but they knew that if I was with you, we’d be in Prescott because of your dad.”
I don’t like where this is going. I pull my hand from his, and he continues. “You see, they wanted me to stay in Flagstaff. They were never too happy about our engagement. It was fine when we were dating, but they didn’t think it would last. And, I don’t know... I just didn’t stand up to them.”
I look across the street to Luke’s house, and I see a silhouette in the window. I think that’s Luke’s makeshift office, and maybe it’s Luke. I look back at Lance, and I’m getting upset. I don’t want to deal with this, or him, right now. I’m confused enough as it is with Luke.
I look back at Luke’s house, and the silhouette is gone, but then his front door opens, and he comes storming out of his house toward us. He marches across his lawn, across the street, across my lawn, and right up to my porch. He stands there, and he’s pissed. I’ve seen him scowl before, I’ve seen him sad, I’ve seen him haunted, and I’ve seen him with hunger in his eyes.
But I’ve never seen him pissed.
Luke clears his throat, and Lance stands up. Then I stand up.
“Luke,” I say, a nervous edge to my voice, “this is Lance.”
I turn to face Lance and say, “Lance, this is my friend, Luke.”
They eye each other and shake hands briefly. Then Luke says, “The dickhead who broke off the engagement?”
Lance, ever the cocky one, says, “Who the fuck are you?”
Nerves rattle my stomach as the tension escalates. I don’t know what Luke’s problem is, but he’s clearly pissed. Maybe he’s being protective because he knows Lance hurt me. And that’s sweet.
I turn to Luke and ask, “Um, Luke, is there something I can do for you?”
“Nope,” he says, keeping his eyes on Lance like a gunfighter who’s about to draw. I look down and see Luke is clenching his fists.
This is very uncomfortable. And unnecessary. Just friends, remember?
“Oh,” I say. “Then, great, I’ll see you tomorrow for our run.”
He doesn’t move, so I nudge him. “See you tomorrow morning,” I say again, my eyebrows raised at him this time — communicating that he can leave now.
“Hm. Fine.” There’s fire and jealousy in his eyes. It’s unsettling, but I admit, it sends a thrill of excitement down my legs.
Luke turns to leave, and when he’s out of earshot, Lance says, “Who the hell is that asshole?”
I take a deep breath. “That’s my friend, Luke. That’s his parents’ house,” I say, pointing to it. His dad died last week, and he’s here from California helping his mom and sister. He’ll only be here for a month, and then he’s leaving.
Lance’s shoulders relax a bit. He refocuses on me and then asks, “So, anyway, are you seeing anybody?”
And his question twists my soul like a wet towel wrung dry, because, no, I’m not seeing anybody. Even though I had wanted to see Luke, but we both agreed it wouldn’t work. I look at Lance and notice how thin and limp his hair is, compared to Luke’s. And I look at Lance’s lanky body, not built at all, compared to Luke’s.
“No,” I answer. I look across the street. Again, I see Luke’s silhouette in the window. I can’t see him well, but I smile inwardly. He’s like Batman.
Lance interrupts my thoughts. “I’m in town for a couple of d
ays. Can I take you to dinner tomorrow night?”
“I can’t,” I say. “Reese is coming down from Flagstaff, and we’re having girls’ night out.” I purse my lips and give him a sorry-sucka shrug.
“Then can I take you to lunch, or see you the next morning?”
“Lance, I don’t see why. It doesn’t make sense. You didn’t love me enough to stand up to your parents and stay with me. You broke it off.” I face him now, giving him my undivided attention. “But I’ll be honest, you did us both a favor.” I climb the steps to my front door. “It made me realize we weren’t meant to be together anyway.”
He puts his hands in his pocket and sighs, resigned. He frowns, and I feel bad.
For about a second.
Then he shrugs and says, “Well, if you change your mind, I’m at the Prescott Hotel right in town, for two nights. Think about it. I know I’ve had more time to think about this than you, and I just sprung it on ya. So, if you want to talk, you know how to get a hold of me.”
He turns and walks away. I look across the street at the window where Luke was standing, watching us. Looks like I have an overprotective dad and an overprotective friend now, too. I wave to the silhouette in Luke’s window. My very own Batman watching out for me.
He waves back.
18
Luke
I want to hit something. Punch my fist through a wall.
So... that’s Lance. What the hell is he doing here? Why is she even talking to him? I frown, and a surge of jealousy runs hot through my veins. Dammit. I wanted to hit him.
He doesn’t deserve her.
Who am I kidding?
I don’t want her with anybody else!
I need to do something. Kick something. I’m angry. I’m angry because I want something, and I shouldn’t want it. I can’t want it.
We agreed to be friends.
I walk out to the garage where I hung the new punching bag I bought. I punch and kick the shit out of it for thirty straight minutes. I’m exhausted and dripping with sweat, but I don’t feel any better. I want to text Ash and see what her little meeting was all about, but I don’t know what to say.
I pace around the garage, circling the bag like a tiger stalking its prey. Then I stop and cross my arms over my chest, taking a breath. I glimpse over at the metal storage shelf filled with bins of my parents’ stuff.
My eyes are attracted to a splash of neon orange peeking out from behind one of the bins. Well I’ll be damned, it’s my old skateboard. Shit. Jeremy and I used to skateboard together. Just what I need right now, something to remind me of Jeremy. Why in the hell would my mom still have my skateboard?
My mood plummets, and the darkness starts to slide back in, enveloping me, like an old song I know by heart. I give the bag a few more punches and one final, explosive roundhouse kick, which slams the bag and sends it swinging on its chain, back and forth across the garage like a pendulum. But it’s no use… I can’t punch and kick the darkness out of me. I go inside the house and stalk up the stairs to the bathroom. I take a cold shower, the icy needles hitting my chest like a punishment I deserve. It makes my breath catch in my chest. It hurts. Everything hurts. I don’t care.
Deeper.
Darker.
I step out of the shower and grab a towel to dry off, then wrap it around my waist. I don’t want to see myself in the mirror, so I walk to my bedroom without a glance. I toss the towel into the hamper and slide under the sheets, naked. I grab my phone from the nightstand and turn on the sound machine app to fill the room with crashing waves to help me fall asleep.
“Luke, wake up!” My mom calls from the hallway as she comes into my bedroom. “Maggie’s in labor! We have to go to the hospital. Now!” My mom shakes my shoulders. My eyes open, groggy, and I slowly comprehend her words.
“What? Maggie is in labor?” I jolt upright and rub my eyes.
“Yes! Let’s go!” my mom cheers as she floats out of my room on a cloud of soon-to-be-grandmotherly excitement.
I jump out of bed and throw on a pair of underwear and some faded jeans and a black T-shirt. I grab my wallet, my phone, and its charger. After brushing my teeth and splashing water on my face, we head out.
Ten minutes later, we’re in the hospital, and my mom goes to Maggie’s room, while I head to the waiting room. It’s 3:00 a.m., and she went into labor a week earlier than anybody expected.
I pace back and forth in the empty waiting room, hoping my sister and her baby are OK. I hadn’t really thought about the risks all these months, and it hits me all at once. The reality. The danger and pain that only women take on, while we men sit on the sidelines, utterly helpless.
She’s almost full-term, so everything should be fine, but my muscles still strain under the tension. I don’t like hospitals. The pale walls and fluorescent lighting creep me out, and the harsh stench of isopropyl alcohol and bleach disinfectant turns my stomach.
I sit down in one of the most uncomfortable chairs I’ve ever experienced, and I lean back, the top edge of the awful chair cutting into the middle of my spine. I glance around the room, and I’m suddenly hit with fatigue. I look at my phone; it’s 3:17 a.m. No wonder I’m wiped. I watch the TV hanging on the waiting area wall for a minute, but the sound is off, and there’s nothing interesting to see, just a rotation of pictures of food they offer in the cafeteria. That’s currently closed. I’m antsy, and I get up in search of a vending machine for a cup of coffee.
Another three hours go by, and I need to text Ash and let her know I won’t be running with her today. I sigh. I want to be with her. I take my phone out of my pocket and tap the messaging app.
Me: Good morning, Ash. Good news, Maggie is in labor. Bad news, I’m at the hospital, so I won’t be able to run this morning.
My heart lifts when I see she’s awake and writing a message back to me. I smile, waiting for it to come through.
Ash: That’s exciting. Is she OK?
Me: Doing great, so far. My mom and Maggie’s husband, Brent, are in the delivery room with her. I’m in the waiting room... wearing a path in the linoleum floor.
Ash: LOL. At least you’ll get your steps. OK. Keep me posted.
Me: Will do. And, hey, I’ll miss running with you.
I hit send before I can delete it. I don’t want her to read too much into it, yet I want her to know... I don’t know... something.
Ash: Me too.
I smile. My mood lightens, knowing she’ll miss running with me, too. I take a moment and picture her in her bed. I wonder what she sleeps in. Fuck, I shouldn’t go down that road. I’m pretty sure friends don’t think about that. I can’t help it though, and my mind goes back to our kiss. I want to kiss her again. I want to smell her up close like that again, my nose nuzzling her ear, my lips and teeth on her throat.
Shit.
I’m so fucked.
Two cups of coffee later, Maggie isn’t much closer to delivering her baby. It could be many hours, so I go back to the house to get some work done. Once there, I do a circuit routine of push-ups, jump squats, and chair dips to burn the energy buzzing under my skin.
I fry four eggs in butter and wolf them down, tossing a few bites to Blitz. He responds with a hearty tail wag between each bite before sitting proud. He’s a good boy.
After breakfast, I head upstairs to take a shower, and my thoughts return to Ash. I can’t get her out of my mind. Hell, I don’t want to get her out of my mind. I like the desire coursing through me whenever I think about her. It makes me feel alive, human, like I’ve been walking through life as a zombie for too long.
I step under the water, and my mind drifts to Ash’s smile, her sexy peach lips, our epic kiss, which felt so damn right. I let my imagination run wild thinking about her lithe body that I love watching power through on our morning runs.
My cock rages to life as I think about how I want to run my hands all over her. I want to kiss her and smell her. Lick her. I grab my cock and stroke it, thinking about Ash being in the shower w
ith me. Wet. Soapy. Slippery.
My hand moves faster, up and down, as I seek relief from the tension of everything that’s been going on. I imagine pressing her against the shower wall, lifting her leg up, and shoving my cock balls-deep into her and fucking her hard. God, I want her… I must have her! A couple more strokes, and I grunt as I squirt my jizz all over the shower floor, and it washes down the drain. For a moment, I enjoy a semblance of relief, but my heart is still reeling with need to hold her tight and sleep with her in my arms.
I’m certain friends don’t think about friends like that.
I rub the water off my face and shrug.
Oh well, I smirk.
A few hours later, I finish my online meetings with my clients. All of my accounts are going well, and I’m relieved to know I can work from here with no issues. I follow up on a few emails with my partners, and then I take Blitz outside to go poop.
After doing laundry and putting away the towels, I eat lunch, and then I get a text from my mom. Maggie is progressing too slowly, so they’re doing a C-section.
I feel a small pit in my stomach knowing they’ll cut her open. I say a silent prayer that she and her baby will be fine, and I take a deep breath to calm my nerves. I don’t know what I would do if I lost her.
Stop thinking this way, Luke, everything will be fine.
I stand up and run my hands through my hair, stretching my neck. I pack up my laptop and head over to the hospital. I’m in the waiting room, trying to get my computer on the hospital’s WiFi, when Mom sends me another text message.
Mom: Maggie just came out of surgery. Everything went great and she’s doing fine. You have a new nephew!
Holy shit, it’s a boy! Even Maggie hadn’t known the sex until the baby was born.