Love's Ache (Gently Broken Series (Bonus)

by Ava Alise

  My eyes find his as the weight of his words fills my chest.

  “There’s no excuse for the way I’ve been acting. I’m just really messed up right now, Liz.”

  I’m trying my best to focus on his words and ignore the drum of my heart. This almost feels like mourning—the smell of the car, the feel of the seats, everything so familiar but so distant.

  “I’m happy your divorce was finalized, I really am. I-I know how important that was to you.” He drops his gaze briefly.

  “So why have you been such a dick? What did I do to deserve—”

  “Nothing,” he says, cutting my words. “It’s me. I’m the one who’s fucked up. I’m trying to work on some stuff.”

  The feeling of having so much to say and so little plagues my mind as my words evaporate on my tongue. Emotions begin to fire rapidly through my veins and tangle together in my heart: anger, joy, and disappointment; hope, grief, satisfaction, need, and want… fear.

  I can’t break… I can’t, not in front of him.

  Taking a deep breath, I exhale slowly.

  “So?” I say, noticing my voice is weaker than before. “What is this? Why did you come?”

  “I…” he sighs, his eyes holding mine, “I don’t want things to be like this between us.”

  Silence grabs me again, and I choke on my words before my cell starts to ring.

  “Zee, where you at?” Tank says.

  “Uh… y’all getting out of class already?” I say, clearing my throat, noticing this call is about twenty minutes earlier than usual.

  “Yeah, the exam for this class is Friday, so the professor pretty much went over some shit and said go home and study… so we out. Ros and I will meet you at the café, cool?”

  “Okay.”

  I look over at Sean.

  “Well, I uh, have to go meet up with Ros and Tank.”

  “Alright, cool. I’ll call you, if that’s okay?”

  “Yeah…”

  Still holding a death grip on my bags, I climb out of his car and walk away without looking back. My brain feels like it is on autopilot as I make my way back toward the café. I don’t know if I want to laugh, cry or scream, but I do know that if I don’t pull my shit together before I meet Ros and Tank, they’ll see right through me.

  I take a quick pit stop into a bathroom in the Health and Sciences building, which sits right next to the café.

  Apologized, he just fucking apologized. That has to mean something, right?

  I pace in front of the short row of mirrors and take slow, deep breaths.

  Thank God nobody is in this bathroom; I probably look like I need to be institutionalized.

  After a few more steadying breaths, I throw my bags over my shoulder; wash my hands for some weird reason, then walk out of the bathroom.

  The next evening, Ros, Tank and I assume our positions at the table for another round of cramming for midterms.

  “Y’all want Chinese takeout again or… I was thinking, pizza,” I say, navigating through the Yelp app on my phone after we’ve been studying for a few hours.

  “Pizza sounds good,” Ros says, chewing on the end of her pen and fingering through a textbook.

  “No pizza for me, Lacy and I are going to dinner in a bit, but I’ll be back for tomorrow night’s study session,” Tank says as he gathers his books.

  “Oooo date night, where are the two lovebirds going?” I ask.

  “I think she said something about sushi, so knowing her, Suko.”

  “Suko… yummy,” Ros says, closing her eyes and leaning her head back in her chair.

  “So… hungry,” she groans.

  Chris’ face immediately comes to mind at the mention of Suko, and I blush as I place our pizza order online.

  Forty minutes later, the knock happens, the pizza comes, and the demolishing begins—poor pizza didn’t have a chance. Ros and I study a bit longer, then call it a night.

  1 New Text Message.

  CHRIS: Liz.

  ME: Hey you, what’s up?

  CHRIS: Nothing, was just thinking about you. What are you doing?

  ME: About to go to bed, I’m exhausted. Been cramming for midterms for almost four hours.

  CHRIS: Damn, four hours… How many exams are you taking? All of them?

  ME: Haha, just two. What are you doing?

  CHRIS: I’m headed out. My roommate has a job he needs help with.

  ME: Wow, what type of auto shop stays open this late?

  There’s a short pause then he replies.

  CHRIS: Well, this is a side job, and my roommate Ty is getting paid to fix this old car, but the guy who’s supposed to help him can’t go.

  ME: Ahh I see, well, don’t forget your flashlight, lol.

  CHRIS: Haha, right! Well, goodnight, beautiful.

  ME: Goodnight.

  I lay my phone down on my nightstand and lean back against my headboard.

  Chris is really sweet, I really didn’t expect to like him so much.

  Another chime from my phone knocks me out of my thoughts again.

  1 NEW TEXT MESSAGE.

  SEAN: Hey, Liz.

  ME: Hi.

  What in the hell does HE want?

  SEAN: How’s exam studying going?

  The hell? So… now we’re best friends. My body is confused, I’m still sort of upset, but my stomach betrays me as butterflies fly in.

  ME: Going okay.

  SEAN: Good. So that guy I saw you with yesterday… is he your boyfriend?

  What makes him think it’s okay to ask me that? It’s none of his business who he is.

  ME: No, he isn’t, Sean.

  Damn betraying butterflies…

  ME: I’m headed to bed, got a busy day tomorrow.

  SEAN: Sleep well.

  I stare at my phone a second longer, then shake it off and place it on my nightstand to charge.

  Okay, brain, let’s assess. I don’t trust Sean’s sudden resolve for friendship or whatever this is. Pity? Guilt?

  My heart wants it to be that he sees the error in his way and wants to start over. Damn heart. I know it’s a slippery slope. If I follow my heart too much, I can lose New Liz and become a crying mess again. I can’t let that happen. Then there’s Chris, sex on a stick. I’m starting to agree with the girls, I might need a rebound. Chris seems perfect. He’s funny, hot, and totally unwilling to commit. Plus, his life with his son makes things more complicated than anything I’d ever be ready for. My place is with a guy like Sean—simple, suited, and uncomplicated. Chris would fit perfectly into Brooke’s batshit crazy non-negotiable guy theory, but this crap with his job seems fishy.

  I sigh and allow my thoughts to carry me away as I drift off to sleep.

  Ros, Tank, and I are on a high as we leave school Friday afternoon. Exams are finally over, and that means it’s time to celebrate. Ros and I firm up plans with Brooke and Kesha to go to The Lounge tonight. Tank has been on edge all day; apparently, he and Lacy are headed to the beach again this weekend to celebrate her parents’ fortieth anniversary. He seems a bit put off by the idea of meeting her family so soon, and I’m starting to wonder if there is trouble in paradise.

  Later that night, Brooke, Kesha and I are dressed and applying our makeup.

  “Do you think I should put on the green shirt or leave the red on?” Ros huffs.

  “Girl, it’s the same damn shirt, it’s just that one has a belt and the other doesn’t,” Kesha yells at her from my bathroom.

  We’ve been waiting on Ros to get dressed for about fifteen minutes now; I never understand why she is so picky about what she wears. Ros is stunning and can pretty much pull off anything she puts on.

  “Rossie, pick one already,” Brooke whines. “We are going to start the Mimosas without you,” she teases.

  Kesha and I laugh, walking out of my bedroom.

  Brooke walks out of the hall bath at the same time, shutting the door behind her, and following Kesha and me to the kitchen.

  “Fine, red shir
t, gold belt, gold heels!” we hear Ros say to herself.

  Brooke, our official, unofficial bartender, goes to work making four tall Mimosas in the kitchen, while Kesha and I chat at the table.

  “So, Brooke, what's up with you and Caleb? How’d that party go last weekend?” Ros says after taking a swig from her cup.

  “It’s going okay. He’s cool,” Brooke says, nonchalantly.

  “OH YEAH RIGHT!” Kesha says, calling Brooke on her bullshit.

  “They are either always together or always on the phone. I bet he will probably be there tonight!” Kesha says, grinning at Brooke.

  Brooke’s cheeks turn red, and she blushes.

  “Oh, he doesn’t seem too ‘non-negotiable’ to me, Brooke,” I tease.

  “Hey, I never said I was looking for a rebound.” She smiles. “Speaking of rebounds, I hear someone has been a bit snugly with Chris this week.”

  And now…it’s my turn to blush.

  “Yeah.”

  “Yeah. He’s been…surprising,” I say.

  “Uh huh. So is he going to meet us tonight?” Brooke asks with wide eyes.

  “Have y’all hooked up yet?” Kesha interjects.

  “Yes, Brooke, and no, Kesha, you whore,” I laugh.

  “What? I mean, y’all have been on a few dates, right? You’re crossing over from rebound territory to possible relationship territory,” Kesha says, giving me a knowing stare.

  “She hasn’t even kissed him yet!” Ros adds.

  “Damn, Ros!” I fuss, embarrassed.

  “What?” Kesha asks wide-eyed.

  “I don’t want to rush it, but at the same time, I don’t want to make him think I want anything more serious,” I say. “I like him, but something is off. I think he could be a drug dealer.”

  “What! Why you think that?” Ros asks as Brooke looks up from her glass with narrowed eyes.

  We drink two more rounds of mimosas, while I tell them all about Chris and my crazy theories. Recapping the events of the text, I begin to feel kind of silly; am I just looking for a reason not to like him?

  “Wow, I understand you not wanting to deal with that crap. Once, I dated a guy who sold pills; it ended badly,” Kesha says. “Remember Frank?” she asks, looking at Brooke.

  Brooke pretends to throw up in her mouth, and Kesha laughs.

  “Just watch him closely tonight to see if he shows any signs, like having two phones or a bunch of cash or something,” Brooke adds.

  I text Chris and tell him to meet us at The Lounge in one hour.

  Encountering the same bouncers as usual, we walk into The Lounge and begin looking for a table. I feel a warm, tingly sensation running through my body, that can only be explained by the three mimosas I had less than an hour ago, and because of this, I don’t feel the need to run straight to the bar like usual. It doesn’t seem like the other girls are interested in getting another drink right away either.

  “Darn! I forgot it’s DJ Takeover weekend!” I yell at the girls.

  I really love their cover bands, but on the third weekend of every month, The Lounge has DJ Takeover where they only book DJs.

  “Well, DJs are awesome too,” Kesha says.

  And, as if on cue, the bass drops and the DJ begins mixing one of my old favorites by Sean Paul. Immediately, we find an empty table, drop our jackets, melt into the crowd, and begin dancing in a small circle. It isn’t long before Kesha, Ros, and I feel the telltale sign of a guy dancing behind us.

  Brooke has somehow already found Caleb in the crowd of people and is dancing with him. I dance with a tall guy, as Ros and I secretly laugh at her guy’s lack of rhythm. I move away from my guy after the song, leaving Ros to her awkward bouncing random, and decide to grab a drink after all.

  My phone vibrates.

  1 NEW MESSAGE.

  CHRIS: Hey, Red, I’ll be there in about five minutes.

  ME: Okay, I’ll either be at the bar or on the dance floor.

  The heat of the swelling crowd is abundant at the bar. I slide toward the front of the line and order an Appletini. When I make it back to the dance floor, I find Ros dancing with someone a lot more in tune with the beat of the music; Kesha has totally disappeared, and Brooke and Caleb are glued together in the same place I left them. Careful not to spill my drink, I start two-stepping while sipping and crowd watching. The couple to my right is dancing in perfect sync, everything about the way they move together highlights their chemistry. More hilariously though, the couple behind them, a guy is dancing with a girl who seems to be completely out of his league, and every time she slides against him I think his eyes may actually pop out of his head.

  Chuckling, I look away. Just as I finish my drink, I feel a guy move in behind me, placing a hand on my waist and beginning to match my subtle movements. I’m about to turn around to see who it is, but before I do, I recognize his cologne; I smile and instead of turning around, I back into him a little closer.

  I dance a little faster along with the beat, having dropped my cup on a random table nearby. Chris matches my movements as I add an extra swing to my hips, just for him.

  When the song changes and we slow down, he pulls me against his chest.

  “Hey, sexy,” he says in a raspy tone, right against my ear.

  I smile and turn to see him. He’s already smiling when our eyes lock.

  “Hey, you,” I flirt, batting my lashes.

  I decline Chris’ offer to buy me a drink because I’m already starting to feel pretty buzzed. He grabs my hand and pulls me over to an empty table, gesturing for me to sit on his lap.

  Every nerve ending in my body is on alert when my body comes to rest against his. I’m completely overtaken by him and being this close, yet I’m so relaxed, which is a total mind fuck because he’s not Sean. Chris smiles, brushes my hair behind my ear, and then leans forward.

  “Here come two assholes.”

  I look over to see two very tall, built, and well-dressed guys approaching us with smiles.

  “Yo Chris, you sure you don’t want to DD tonight?” the tallest one says, as he flops in the chair across from us.

  “Hey, I’m JJ.” He smiles.

  “I’m Liz.”

  “Yeah, boys, this is Liz. Liz, JJ and Ty,” Chris says.

  We exchange greetings, and I lock eyes with Ros, nodding her over.

  “This is my best friend, Ros. Ros, this is Ty and JJ.”

  “Nice to meet you, gorgeous,” Ty says, smiling.

  “Hi,” she says to both guys.

  Ty pulls out the charm and offers to buy Ros a drink, and moments later, they leave the table.

  Chris, JJ, and I make small talk over drinks for a while. Two Jaeger bombs later, I can barely sit still. Damn Red Bull. Eventually, something, or actually, someone, catches JJ’s eye, and he walks onto the dance floor.

  “C’mon,” I say, hopping up suddenly.

  I grab Chris’ hand and pull him to the dance floor, past Ros and Ty, who never came back to the table, past Kesha and the guy she disappeared with earlier, and past Brooke and Caleb making out in the corner.

  The song is slow, so he pulls me against him. My pulse responds to the feel of his body and, as we sway, my hands become possessed again; I’m too buzzed to stop them. His usual smile fades as he watches my hand run slowly between us, down his chest and across his abs, then crawl back up over his shoulder. The look in his eyes matches my desire, causing me to ache.

  I want to kiss him, I need to kiss him, but I have to know first; I can’t take this any further if I don’t. I noticed how he’s dressed in expensive clothing tonight, and every time he paid for a drink, he pulled out a large wad of cash. I also know that with the way he’s making me feel, if we kiss, it will damn hard to walk away.

  I grab his hand, find a semi-empty corner, and back into the wall, pulling him toward me. He presses his body onto mine, placing one hand against the wall.

  “What’s this?” he says, smiling.

  I bite my lip, close my eyes, a
nd take a deep breath.

  Fuck….please say no...

  “Chris, I know you’re lying about this auto repair tech thing,” I pause, teetering on losing my nerve. “I really like our connection, but there are certain situations I just can’t put myself in, so I’m going to flat out ask you. Do you sell drugs?”

  I don’t open my eyes until I feel him pull back from me a bit. The look on his face is unreadable. He drops his eyes from mine for a moment as he takes a deep breath, then places his mouth against my ear.

  “You’re right, I have been lying, Red, and I’m sorry,” he sighs.

  “I’m not a mechanic.”

  No… dammit!

  “But I’m also not a drug dealer… I’m a stripper.”

  LIZ

  My mouth falls open, and I snap my head back to look at him. Unfortunately, I forget my position, and my head bounces off the wall.

  “Shit!” I yelp.

  Chris steps back, expression now laced with concern. “Are you alright?”

  I nod, rubbing my head.

  Holy shit. There is no way… a stripper?

  He grabs my hand and leads me through the crowd toward the exit.

  “Wait, a stripper? Like with poles and glitter?” I finally ask once we’re outside.

  Chris chuckles.

  “Red, men don’t strip the same way as women; well, not my group.”

  I stare, waiting for him to go on.

  With the way he’s looking at me, in most other situations I would begin to feel the embarrassment creep in; this though, has me intrigued.

  “We dance seductively, you know, but with swag. We have the same goal as female strippers, to make you have fun while turning you on and getting tips. We do lap dances, invite women on stage, and basically fuck them without the fucking. If that makes sense?”

  “Okay,” I say, brows knitted. “So why did you lie about working as an auto mechanic?” I ask.

  “You seem so sweet; I didn’t want to scare you off. The truth is my last show was last night. I’ve been stripping since I was eighteen, and I’ve stacked a lot of money. I just decided to get off the scene and see what happens next.”

  I stare at him blankly. I was NOT expecting this answer.

  “See what happens next?”