A Reason To Be: Book 1

by Maria Xystra

  “They’re not my words!” she hurries to add. “I’m just saying that what you said – both of you – might carry more truth than you care to admit.”

  “Sam,” I get serious, “you’re my best friend and you know I love you, always will. But tonight…meh…not so much.”

  She laughs and shoves me lightheartedly.

  As Sam leans back and makes fun of me about being ‘sooooooo into him’, I hear my name being mentioned at the poker table. I focus on the source of the sound and try to expand the range of my hearing. They purposefully lower their voices, but I manage to make out as one of the guys asks, ‘how much does she know’ and Cole replies, ‘not much’. As another voice starts saying ‘would you ever consider…’ it goes silent abruptly. My guess, Cole gave him ‘the look’.

  I get intrigued for a moment but I’m not sure if I really want to know what they’re talking about. Cole said, ‘less is more’ and I think that applies to how much I should know, too.

  “Do you want a drink?” I ask Sam as I get off the couch.

  “Don’t you think we have enough alcohol in our systems already?” she says eyeing the four empty glasses on the coffee table.

  “Not enough,” I point out, making my way towards the bar, ignoring her calling my name pleadingly.

  “Anybody want a refill?” I turn to the poker players as I pass by them. They barely pay me any attention, murmuring ‘no’ and ‘I’m good’.

  The cocktail I made is more than enough for a glass, so I fill a second one and take it to Vincent, who’s having a cigarette on the balcony.

  “You know, a smoke’s always better with a drink,” I offer him the drink and this time he smiles as he takes it. “You don’t play poker?”

  “I know when to stop. Unlike some.” He nods towards the poker table through the window. He takes a sip and so do I.

  “Did you make this?” he asks kind of surprised.

  “It’s my signature drink. I call it Lex-tacy!” I inform him proudly.

  “It’s really good. Honestly. Are you a bartender?”

  “I used to be; when I was in college.”

  He drinks some more and lights another cigarette.

  “He’s worthy, you know,” he says out of the blue. I know he’s talking about Cole. “We might joke about him being an arrogant, authoritative, I-own-everything douchebag, but there’s a reason he’s the Boss.” He pauses and looks at the street below. “He brings us together in a balance no one else would be able to maintain. He always weighs things and decides on what’s best for everyone. He is a true leader. And really, the best of us all.”

  His words catch me off-guard. Not wanting to talk about the subject, I turn the attention to him.

  “And you, you know, just because they call you Temper, doesn’t mean that you aren’t as good as they are.” I’m not sure that came out OK. “I mean…” I try to find the words, but the alcohol has slowed down my brain.

  “I like you,” I end up saying. “And I mean it.”

  He gives me a genuine smile.

  “I like you, too.” Brief pause. “And Cole likes you. I can tell by the way he looks at you.” I’m still not able to answer. Hearing such a thing from someone other than Sam, makes me wonder if there’s indeed something there. It is however far from wise to find out if that’s true.

  “But…” he starts again and hesitates. “You are holding back.” Can he read my thoughts? “I don’t know what it is but I’m sure you two can work it out.” I seriously doubt that. I’m still firm to my rule: no relationships, no trouble.

  And speaking of trouble, as I lean against the balcony barrier, I get a whiff of Cole’s distinctive odor – woods, spices, amber and leather – and try hard to focus, staring into my drink over the edge.

  Vincent heads inside and I hear him saying: “She really is something, man. Don’t fuck this up.”

  I can’t see Cole’s expression; I only hear the door sliding shut. I turn my head towards him and as he approaches me, he warns “Don’t freak out, I’m gonna put my arms around you.”

  “What?” I start to turn, and he stands right in front of me, putting two hands on the barrier, right next to my hips. Fuck.

  “You still remember how to breathe, right?”

  That’s when I realize I’ve been holding my breath.

  “Come on, Tipsy. Breathe in.” He imitates the action, “and breathe out,” again demonstrating. As if that’s an easy task to do while having his overwhelming physique looming over me.

  “This is called invasion of personal space,” I point out, trying to move as far away from him as possible. And that’s like an inch. My back finds the barrier and I lean backwards as much as I can.

  “There’s no such thing as ‘personal space’ when it comes to couples.”

  “The only real couple here is Eric and Sam.”

  He chuckles briefly and sighs. “Why don’t you loosen up a bit? They might not be able to hear us, but we’ve still got eyes on us.”

  “Don’t you think the story you fed them was enough?” I ask him.

  “True… but your performance wasn’t as convincing as mine,” he says.

  “Huh!” I exclaim offended. “Are you trying to steal my Oscar, Mr. Theron?”

  He shakes his head and doesn’t grant me with an answer.

  His proximity and attention don’t mix well with the alcohol I’ve been consuming, and I have to really – really – fight the urge to connect my lips with his. Afraid that my actions won’t be able to obey my brain for long, I raise my drink to my mouth.

  “Is it that easy for you to lie?” he gets serious.

  I match his expression and take a deep breath.

  “Look…I thought that by now, you’d be able to understand why I’m doing this…the real reason I agreed to be part of this act and pose as your girlfriend…well, it’s because I’m into you and I find it hard to fight what I’m feeling…and for me, it’s not really pretense when there’s emotion involved.” I muster my courage and look into his eyes.

  He seems stunned by my words and then his face slips into a look of perplexity. He brings his brows together and studies me for a second.

  “See?” I tell him in a casual tone. “Piece of cake.”

  He quickly realizes that I’ve been playing him in order to prove how easy it is for me to deceive people. After all, I’ve been living a lie since the moment I turned.

  “Wow, that good, huh?” he asks and chuckles, but I can tell that behind his smile there’s a hint of …disappointment?

  I shrug and take a sip from my drink again.

  “I guess there must be a pretty good reason for you to have become so good at it.” He keeps his eyes on my face, waiting for me to what? Give my reasons to him?

  “Well, I’ll keep my reasons to myself. And it’s not like I’m lying in order to hurt people, but more like to protect myself,” I retort.

  “There’s no reason to get defensive with me, I’m just trying to figure you out,” he backs off.

  “What- what- what is this?” I point from him to me, repeatedly. “Bonding? I don’t do bonding.” I try to maintain some distance between us, at least mentally, because physically, he’s close. Too close. Like the next step would be to actually be inside me! Oh, for God’s sake, Lex!

  “No bonding, huh?” he laughs and drops his head. “What about bondage?” he lifts his eyes to meet mine, head still down, a mischievous glint in his stare.

  Bondage? Hmmm. I’ve never considered this before. And before I realize it, I’m picturing him, naked, on top of me, bringing me to the edge of an orgasm, holding my tied-up wrists over my head. Pinned to the mattress, and not able to reach out and touch him, I feel helpless, but knowing he is in control, he is in charge, makes me want to devour each moment and blindly surrender to whatever it is that he’s willing to do to me.

  Frustrated by my sexually arousing thoughts and annoyed that the person causing them is standing right here in front of me and I can’t h
ave him, I finish my drink, clenching the glass tightly.

  “You will never know.”

  “I already do, your face tells me everything.” He smiles seductively, and I fall in love with his dimples. I grunt. Internally.

  “Can you step back, please?” I try to sound polite and place a hand on his chest in a fiddle attempt to move him. No result.

  “Of course, I can,” he states and leans to my ear to whisper “but I don’t want to.” My blood fails to reach my limbs and I feel numb. He softly traces my hips with his thumbs, over the rim of my jeans. A chill travels up my torso and startles my heart. For a man his size, his touch is surprisingly soft and gentle. I inhale sharply – hoping he doesn’t notice – and his essence makes my body want to lean towards his.

  “What are you doing?” I demand putting my arms inside his, unlocking their connection with my body.

  “Am I making you uncomfortable?” he teases.

  “Don’t you think it’s time for you to continue your poker game?”

  “I’d rather continue this game” he nods towards me.

  And I’d rather this wasn’t just a game.

  The door slides forcefully and Menace shouts: “Yo, lovebirds, are we gonna poker or what?”

  “You’re out,” Cole announces and before Menace gets the chance to defend himself into another round, “you’ll be playing pool with Lexy.” Menace walks away with his tail between his legs.

  “What?” I whisper to him. “So, now I’m on loser duty?”

  “Yeah. And by the way, don’t freak out.” He lifts his hands and puts one on each side of my face, holding my head in place. Unconsciously, the soundtrack of ‘Psycho’ plays in my mind. Not fully registering what he’s about to do, my brain shuts down as Cole plants a soft kiss on my lips. My eyes close instinctively. As he draws back he searches into my eyes for some kind of reaction – or approval? Not sure why, we both lean in for a second kiss. Every nerve stands on attention and the attraction between us becomes so apparent.

  We disconnect, but he stays close, our eyes on each other’s face.

  “It’s for good luck,” he adds playfully, smiling with mischief. I fight a battle internally and logic wins. I get furious at myself, for lowering my walls, allowing this man to make me feel…anything. To just make me feel. Big mistake.

  I put on the most serious expression I can muster. I step out of his grip and shoot him an accusing look, which is not really fair since I leaned into the kiss as much as he did.

  I walk past him and head to the pool table.

  I gather the remaining balls in the center of the pool table to set them up for a second game and Menace shouts: “Lexy is touching my balls!” I turn to the poker table and catch Cole’s eyes over his cigarette smoke.

  I walk towards the cue wrack to take another one and punch Menace on the arm on the way. He and Sam laugh and my eyes rest on the elaborately carved chest again.

  I first noticed it before we started playing. Resting there against the wall, new but so vintage-like, it intrigues me to find out what’s inside. A magnificent lock stops me from investigating but fuels my curiosity even more. Menace is still not allowed to play poker –apparently, he wanted to borrow some money, but the Boss said no.

  “You guys go ahead and start, I’m gonna get a hoodie or something,” I inform them and rub my arms.

  I ran and sock-ski across the floor towards the stairs. My head got a bit shaken by this move, letting me know that I shouldn’t drink anymore tonight.

  I stumble up the stairs and trip on the last step to Cole’s bedroom. On my hands and knees, I scream “I’m OK!” and push up.

  Searching for a hoodie in Cole’s closet, I find some paintings secluded in a corner. Pictures of angels, male figures with wings, usually accompanied by a mortal-looking woman. It reminds me of the artwork in his bathroom. I guess this is something Cole wanted hidden, so I just put them back and open another sliding door. I get a black hoodie from a pile and put it on. It’s huge but the smell of its owner is fostering within the fabric, making it just perfect.

  On my way out, I notice a pull-up bar installed on the closet’s doorway. I jump and reach for it. Smiling to myself I pull up and can’t help imaging Cole all sweaty, shirtless – of course –, working out.

  I pull my legs over my chest and pass them through the bar. I let go and end up hanging from my knees upside down. I feel the alcohol moving through my system gathering to my head. I look at my hands dangling over the floor and… a pair of trainers comes into sight.

  “What are you doing?” Cole’s voice comes from behind me amused.

  “Just hanging,” I joke. I soon register that he must be on eye level with my ass. So, I put my hands on the doorway to support my weight and pull my knees off the bar, landing into a perfect standing position.

  The hood has found its way over my head and with this look I walk towards Cole and boob-bump him.

  “’Ssup?” I ask him trying to find my balance from the impact.

  Cole hasn’t moved an inch.

  “Are you OK?”

  I lower the hood to be able to see him.

  “What are you made of? Stone?” I comment on his statue-like figure.

  “Are you drunk?”

  “Nooooo!” I hurry to state. He crosses his arms and pumps up his upper body. Oh, God.

  “Maybe…” I try to argue.

  “Definitely,” he says and reaches for my arm.

  I hear the ‘Psycho’ soundtrack again and I try to block any attempt he might make to kiss me again; I ninja him and step back. He laughs.

  “Come on, let’s make you some coffee.”

  Why did I have to get bitten by a vampire? Couldn’t it just be a…mermaid? Mer-male? Mer-man? God, I’m so drunk.

  Disappointment fills me due to my unsatisfied desire of being kissed by him again and I chastise myself for that. I smooth my hoodie-dress and lift my chin. I shove his shoulder with mine as I pass by him and he chuckles shaking his head.

  I barely settle on a stool on the kitchen island as Sam makes me some iced coffee. The minute I take it in my hand, I down it in just a few sips.

  I inhale sharply and place my fingertips between my eyes. Every cell in my brain must have turned into a tiny snowflake.

  “Brain-freeze?” Sam grins from across the island.

  “Nnnnnn,” I nod and say through clenched teeth.

  “You know,” she leans over the island and her voice is merely a whisper, “you only get drunk when you can’t cope with your emotions…”

  I knew she’d say something I wouldn’t like.

  “Oh, is that what you do every Sunday?” I deflect as I tiredly let my head rest on top of my arms.

  *****

  As Sam nudges me, I slowly come back to my senses from the nap I had on Cole’s couch.

  “Come on, babe. We’re gonna get you home.” I follow Sam, eyes half closed, letting her lead me out of the apartment and to my car.

  She drives me home and the last thing I remember is Eric saying something about my living room. Not sure if he’s said something good or bad, and right now, I don’t really care.

  Images of Cole and me kissing on the balcony fill my dreams and it always ends with the word ‘game’ coming from his lips. Frustrated, I toss and turn trying to get back to sleep. Finally, I take off his hoodie and toss it on the floor, hoping that this will help, not having to feel and smell him so close.

  It doesn’t.

  CHAPTER 9

  I burry my head in my hands. I can’t recall how I got here. How I woke up, got ready for work, drove Pearl and reached my office.

  I keep singing the last song I heard on the radio on my way here. ‘What a wicked game to play, to make me feel this way. What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you…’ And of course, it brings to mind the whole…Cole thing. I try to shake it off and pull myself together for the meeting.

  The meeting. With him.

  I grab my water bottle from my purs
e. I applaud myself for the brilliant idea to replace water with vodka. I heard that if you get so freaking drunk and you wake up with a major hangover – hello, that’s me! – you should have some of whatever you had in the first place. So hopefully, having some vodka – I don’t really intend to down the whole bottle, I just filled it to the top for cover up – will help me get through the day. And especially the meeting. With him. Repeating myself doesn’t help.

  “Great! You’re here!” Luke enters my office with a wide smile and the greatest display of white teeth ever. It’s disgusting.

  I lift my head involuntarily.

  “Come on, sugar. Put on your best smile! This is our big day!” He’s super excited about this deal. I almost get into an internal conflict about deciding on whether he’s gay or not – a common occurrence since he always flirts with everyone, and nobody is really sure of his sexual preferences – but this time I’m too hammered and apathetic to do so.

  Knowing that it is already a done deal, since Cole said that today he’s going to sign the contract, I reply to Luke’s request providing the fakest smile I can muster.

  “How’s that?” I offer with my eyes half closed and a mask of a smile printed on my face.

  Luke’s face gets disordered seeing mine and as we both wear ridiculous expressions, Simon from the accounting department joins us.

  “Good morning, Luke, Lexy.” We both turn to him, the fake smile still on my lips.

  And of course, he’s not alone.

  Cole comes to stand right beside him, and another guy lingers by the doorway. Shit.

  Luke shoots up from my desk and hurries to greet ‘Mr. Gold-Deal’.

  “Mr. Theron! Welcome! How are you on this beautiful day?” They engage into small talk as I get my files – and my savior/vodka bottle – and make my way to the meeting table. I shut their interaction out and try to conceal the fact that I’m practically dragging myself around.

  I try to set my bottle in front of the seat I’m about to take, when Cole offers me his hand as a greeting. I offer him mine and he looks at me amused. I realize I’m offering him the bottle instead of my hand and quickly take the bottle in my other hand, and offer it again. He shakes it and at the same time, awakens every little drunken pore of my numb – until now – body. Jesus.