by Jacob Chance
Why is she sneaking off?
Her flip flops slap and click against the soles of her feet with each step she takes down the sidewalk. I smile as my eyes trail over her bewitching form dressed in cut off shorts and a fitted blue tank top. With her blonde hair pulled back into a neat ponytail she looks younger than she is.
She pauses at the front window of a cafe, presses her nose to the glass, peering inside. Her face lights up with a smile so large I can see it in profile from where I stand. She waves at someone on the other side of the window, before her feet quickly shuffle toward the door. Opening before she can reach it, she’s immediately swept up into an embrace by some guy I’ve never seen before. She giggles and throws her arms around him with complete abandon.
Who the fuck is this dude?
He picks her up, feet clear off the ground and she squeals like a young schoolgirl. My blood thrums with rage.
I want to rip this guy apart limb by limb for putting his hands on her, but she obviously doesn’t mind.
I want to be the one holding her.
He sets her back down and grabs her hand, leading them inside the entrance. Leaning back against the building next to the coffee shop, I run a hand over my face. The rough texture of the brick prods my skin through my black t-shirt. I can’t believe I’m envious of someone I don’t even know. Jealousy is not an emotion I’m used to dealing with.
What should I do?
Should I go in there and ask her what’s up - ask who her friend is? If I deliver the question in a lighter tone of voice it could work. Should I pretend I’m there for the coffee and be surprised when I see her? I’m not one to put on some act and not be up front. Should I go back to the hotel and forget I saw her? Leaving without knowing who the guy is will only drive me crazy for the rest of the day.
Fuck it. I’ll wing it and see what happens.
My feet move purposefully, on a mission to stop this dude from moving in on Lilah.
Yanking the door open, the bell on top clatters loudly and all eyes in the joint look my way. Murmurs of my name reach me, but I pay no mind. My entire focus is on the beautiful blonde seated in a booth on the right side of the room.
Before I realize or consciously think about it, I’m striding in her direction. Her eyes grow impossibly larger with each step I take. When I reach their table, I fear they’ll pop right out of their sockets. “Lilah, I didn’t expect to see you here.”
She licks her lips and nervously presses them together. “Jesse, what a nice surprise.” I grin at her discomfort. If she wasn’t affected by me her pulse wouldn’t be fluttering so wildly in her elegant neck.
“It’s a gorgeous morning. I figured I’d walk around a little, grab some coffee and a breakfast sandwich.”
“Wow, Jesse Gunn, I’m a huge fan.”
My gaze moves to the guy seated across from her. “And you are?” I raise a brow in question.
“Oh, sorry dude. I’m Keith.”
“How do you know MY Lilah?” I inquire, placing a heavy palm on the top of her shoulder. My gaze swings in her direction, catching her eyes rolling. Raking my teeth over my bottom lip, I fight to hold in a grin. She’s annoyed and part of me is immensely satisfied I got that reaction from her.
“We used to date,” Keith replies. My hand reflexively tightens on her shoulder and she squirms. I release my hold and cross my arms over my chest. His answer isn’t the one I was hoping for. I don’t want to think of Lilah ever dating anyone else. Impossible expectation or not, it is what it is. She’s unblemished perfection in my eyes and I’ve had her on a pedestal for three years now. I’ve always quelled any thoughts of her dating other guys before they could drive me mad. I prefer to imagine her at home, reading or cleaning on a Saturday night, instead of the more likely alternative that she’s out with someone else… a guy who doesn’t work for her family’s company.
Studying Keith for a moment, I notice he’s of average height and build. His blonde hair is buzzed close to his head and he’s wearing a short sleeve button down shirt with khaki shorts. He’s the definition of clean cut. My eyes glance down at my beat-up physique before swinging back to Keith. His skin is unblemished. Does he have any ink? I got my rib tattoo at the tender age of twenty. I bet he’s a blank canvas color will most likely never touch. Running a hand over my two-day stubble on my jawline, I notice he’s clean shaven. Shit.
Maybe I’m not her type?
Nah, Jesse Gunn is everyone’s type. I smirk as the thought pops into my head, but both the smirk and the thought fade just as quickly.
Jesse Gunn isn’t me. He’s a persona I’ve adopted - an act I must play. For the first time I want someone to know the real me. The man behind the character. He’s my job, not my life. I’m thirty years old and wrestling takes a toll on your body. I know I’ll be lucky if I see forty without a career ending injury.
What will be left when Jesse Gunn is no more?
“Do you want to join us?” Keith questions, interrupting my deep thoughts. He helpfully gestures at the seat next to Lilah.
I like this dude.
“Thanks, man. That would be great.” She sighs when I slip in next to her. Scooting over, I press the outside of my thigh against hers. When she tries to move away, I hook my foot on the inside of hers, trapping her leg between mine and the bench seat. She freezes as our bare skin comes into full contact - thigh to thigh and calf to calf. Her leg is warm against mine and my fingers twitch, fighting the urge to caress the tan length.
I smirk when I notice Lilah’s white knuckled grip on her coffee cup. She’s affected by me too.
“So, Keith, what are you doing in North Carolina? I’m assuming you must be from Connecticut if you dated Lilah.”
“Yeah, I am. We went to high school together and dated all four years.” He glances across at Lilah aiming a smile her way. She echoes one back and my hand lands on her bare thigh under the table. I lightly squeeze her muscled limb as if to say ‘mine.’
“Why did you guys break up?” I question, wanting to know more about him.
“We went to different colleges and never saw each other. I went to Charlotte University and she went to Yale. But our breakup was friendly and we’ve kept in touch ever since.” He raises his glass of soda to his lips, taking a sip. Placing it down on the small napkin, he continues, “that’s how I ended up living here. I got a great job right out of college with a tech company. One of these days I’m going to convince Lilah to move down, so we can pick up where we left off.” He winks and her cheeks flush pink.
Motherfucker. Over my dead body.
My hold on her leg loosens and my fingertips begin to lazily trace patterns up and down her bare skin as if it’s an afterthought, but it’s not. Touching her is anything but, it’s more like an unconscious habit. Desire fires through me with every slow caress. It’s all I can do not to hook my finger up under the frayed edge of her cutoffs and find out if she’s soft everywhere.
“Jesse,” Lilah huskily calls my name. I smirk and skate my fingertips further up her thigh. “You never got anything to drink or eat. Don’t let us keep you from going up to order.”
“Oh dude, what do you want? I’ll go grab it for you,” Keith offers, jumping out of the booth.
Pulling some bills from my right front pocket, I slap them on the end of the table. “I’d love a large, black coffee and two bacon, egg and cheese on bagels. Grab whatever you guys want too.”
“Lilah?” Keith questions.
She shakes her head. “I’m all set for now, thanks.”
Keith grins, quickly scooping the money up as if I’ll change my mind. He stops to lean down and snap a quick selfie, without asking. “Thanks, man. You just made my day. Now I can post online that Jesse Gunn bought me breakfast.” He takes off toward the front counter leaving Lilah and I alone. My hand continues to glide over her skin. If only we were somewhere private. My dick pulses with blood thinking about the things I plan to do to her.
“Why are you doing this?” she asks.
; “Doing what?”
“Sitting here and acting like you and I are friends.”
“We are friends.” My fingers circle her knee before climbing back up her thigh. “I’d like to be more than friends.”
She slaps her hand down on top of mine. “Please stop.”
“Stop what? You need to be more specific.” She runs hot and cold with me depending on the day.
“Stop this,” she grits out. “Stop touching me. Stop talking to me. Stop acting like you’re interested in me at all.” Her hand leaves mine to toy with the edge of a paper napkin on the table. Her indecisiveness is what’s causing her to be short. I can’t help but feel encouraged that I’m chipping away at her walls.
“I am interested in you.” I lower my head, leaning toward her
“Jesse,” her eyes dart to mine, “contrary to what you might think, I’m not naive. I know I’m different than the women you usually spend time with.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Everything.”
“Lilah, just say whatever it is you want.”
“Stick to the women you’re used to. I’m not up for your games. I don’t want to play them anymore.” Her eyes implore me to listen to her words, but I can’t. I want her too much.
“Lilah, I think I’ve proven how much I want to get to know you on a deeper level. I enjoyed spending time with you last night and now again this morning. It’s kind of like the universe is pushing us toward each other.”
“Here you go,” Keith announces, setting my coffee and two paper wrapped sandwiches on the table. He places my change down and I push it toward him. “Consider it your tip.”
“Seriously?” he questions, glancing down at the twenty-dollar bill and handful of singles remaining.
“Sure thing.”
He sits once again and unwraps the sandwich he procured for himself. Releasing my hold on Lilah’s leg, I slide to the edge of the booth and stand. “I’m gonna take this to go. You kids have fun.” I wink at Lilah. She rolls her lips inward like she tends to do when she’s upset or thinking about something.
“Thanks again, Jesse,” Keith says. I give them a quick wave and make my way out the door.
Chapter Five
Lilah
“Damn it. I should’ve got his autograph. None of the guys are going to believe me when I tell them about this. Good thing I took a picture.” Keith sets his sandwich down on the wrapper and wipes his hands on a napkin.
“He’s just a guy.”
“Lilah, he’s not just a guy. Everyone knows who he is even if they’re not wrestling fans.”
I shrug my shoulders. “Can we talk about something else, please? I don’t want to be reminded of work right now.”
“Sure. How about we talk about you moving here to live?”
“You were serious about that?”
“Completely.”
“But how would that work? What about my job? I travel all the time.”
“I know you do and I’d never interfere with your work. But when you’re not travelling we’d be together.” He smiles, taking my hand in his. “I miss you.” His brown eyes sparkle earnestly showing me the truth in his words.
My stomach flutters from his sweet words. Keith is a great guy and I’m probably a fool for not jumping at the chance to get back together with him, but I’m not ready to make a commitment to anyone. “I miss you too,” I reply, but it feels like a lie. I miss Keith the same way I would miss Carly if I didn’t see her all the time. It’s nothing compared to the way I miss Jesse when I don’t see him. “We’ve been apart for longer than we were together. This isn’t a decision I can make right now. I need some time to think about it.”
He nods. “Take all the time you need.”
As soon as I step inside my hotel room, my cell phone rings. Glancing down at the screen, I sigh when I notice it’s my father calling. Great. Dad doesn’t call unless he needs something and most of the time that involves doing something I won’t be happy about. Allowing the phone to continue ringing, I debate with myself if I should answer it or not. I’ve already had a tough start to my day. Why would I want my dad to be the cherry on top of the disaster sundae my morning has been?
The ringing ends as I sink down on top of the bed. Lying back, I kick off my flip flops and relax into the plush, comfortable pillow beneath my head. My eyelids fall shut and I exhale a sigh of relief. It’s not even noon yet and I’m ready for a nap. Spending time in Jesse’s company is emotionally exhausting. I’m on edge the entire time and torn between wanting to run from him and never wanting to leave.
My phone chimes alerting me of a text. Groaning, I glare at the screen already knowing what I’m going to find. Yep, I knew it. My dad’s sent me a message.
Dad: Meeting in my suite in fifteen. Don’t be late.
This message is typical. He never asks; it’s always a demand. He’s not purposely trying to be rude, he’s just used to people jumping when he tells them to. Lucky for him he has a daughter to keep him grounded.
Would it kill him to ask me if that time worked for me?
Me: Yes sir. I’ll be there. But food for thought - What if I wasn’t near the hotel?
Dad: Aren’t you here?
Me: You’re missing the point, Daddio.
Dad: Are you making one?
I salute my phone, but not the military kind. Mine is the middle finger version and I only resort to such actions when I’m alone. No one would ever imagine me flipping my father off, but no one understands what a prick he can be - a loveable prick, I’ll give him that. I’m forever doing his bidding and I know that he’s my boss, but I can’t seem to say no to him no matter how hard I try. Even when he asks me to do things I don’t want to because making sure World Class Wrestling thrives is my priority. And it has. Business is great. If you ask my dad he’d probably tell you things could be better, but we brought in more revenue this past year than any other.
Glancing in the mirror, I run a brush through my hair and neaten my ponytail. Staring down at my tank top and shorts, I grimace. I’m sure Dad expects me to change into business attire, but I’m not going to. It’s Sunday and my day off. He’s lucky I’m even going to this meeting.
I brush my teeth and swipe on some pink lip gloss before grabbing my phone and room key. My hand rubs my uneasy stomach on the short elevator ride. I almost get cold feet and walk away from the suite, but I take a deep breath and remind myself that kind of behavior would be unprofessional. Being a Turner comes with a list of expectations and running from problems is never acceptable. I rap on the steel and wait to be let inside; all the while, shaking in my flip flops.
What bomb is he about to drop on me?
I’m not being paranoid; there’s always something. My hand raises to knock once more when the door swings inward startling me. My mother smiles and grabs my hand, tugging me inside. She gives me a quick hug. “Come on honey. Daddy and the others are waiting.”
“Others?” I whisper. My eyes grow wide with panic.
What others?
My hands smooth down over the material of my tank top. Maybe I should run in the bathroom and tuck it in?
Get a grip, Lilah. It doesn’t matter. Unrealistic expectations often get the better of me when I’m unprepared for a situation. Fuck. I press a palm to my forehead and take a deep breath for courage. It feels as though I’m about to step directly inside the lion’s den. I assumed this was going to be a private discussion between the two of us. I should've known he never does what I expect.
“Well, well, well. Look who decided to grace us with her presence,” my dad announces, from his seat at the end of the table. His eyes sparkle mischievously as he catches sight of me. Pressing my teeth into my bottom lip, I refuse to respond. I’m not rising to his bait. Teasing me and pushing my buttons is a game he likes to play. “We’ve already begun the meeting. Take a seat so we can continue.”
I want to ask him how it is that the meeting has already begun when I’m
early for it?
But, I remain silent like the dutiful daughter I am. Or should I say the dutiful daughter I appear to be in front of others? His deep voice fades into the background turning into white noise as my eyes drift around the large table. Uncle Allen, my father’s younger brother and the Vice President of the company is in attendance. Jesse’s also here. I do a double take when I see him.
What the hell is he doing here?
Bob Hale, aka Bobby ‘Buzzsaw,’ another one of our wrestlers, and Jesse’s former tag team partner is sitting across the table. The two were portrayed as best friends until about six weeks ago, when Jesse betrayed Buzzsaw in a tag team title match. Jesse was supposed to become a heel and Buzzsaw was in line for a push to the singles championship.
It was supposed to happen that way... but it didn’t.
Fans went crazy for Jesse’s new attitude. The clips of him tossing a confused Buzzsaw over the top rope, through a table and then standing over him laughing went viral. The more the writers pushed Jesse as a bad guy, the more audiences responded, and the trend has continued. For every show since then it’s the same story; the women love him, and the men want to hang out with him.
Unfortunately, Bobby Buzzsaw hasn’t fared as well. He’s been seeing less air time and his matches are further and further away from the main event with each new show. He looks miserable and is clearly not happy with the turn in fortunes.
My eyes dart back to my father and I remind myself I need to pay attention to what he’s saying.
“There’s not a lot to say, Bob.” He looks and speaks directly to Hale. “You know this business; we give the people what they want. Right now, they want Jesse.” My father leans over and places a hand on Hale’s shoulder. “I’ve been around long enough to know how quickly favor can change. I hope you hang in there with us and stay ready for your opportunity when it comes.”
Bob leaves the room feeling better and maybe even more determined to succeed. My father’s good with people. He always has been. I’m not the only one who does what he says.