Pull Me Close: The Panic Series

by Sidney Halston

  Nico

  Tonight I had to call the cops twice. Not once. Twice! We open our doors at eight, and things usually start getting busy around eleven. At ten, with just a few early arrivals there, we had a full-on bar fight. One guy broke the other’s nose while their stupid friends cheered them on. I don’t know the reason for the fight, nor do I care. My staff didn’t get to them fast enough, and a rogue punch clocked a third customer in the chin. Clearly the idiot shouldn’t have been standing close videotaping the fight with his phone, but still, I can’t have my customers getting knocked out. So not only did I have to comp his and his friends’ drinks, I had to fill out fucking paperwork for the insurance company and hope to God the moron doesn’t sue. And then I called not only the cops for the dumb brawlers but also an ambulance for the asshole who now had a broken nose and the idiot spectator who had a gash on his chin. Suffice it to say, by the time eleven rolled around, I was in a pissy mood.

  Then at one in the morning, I found myself in the women’s bathroom, the one in the far east corner of the club, with my cellphone in hand, Toro at my side, dialing 911 again. This time I had a dumb-as-fuck chick trapped in the bathroom while we waited for the cops. Dumb-ass chick tagged Panic in her Facebook post and her status was all about how she could be found in the bathroom “for a good time.” Of course I had Toro check that shit out, and it turns out that by “a good time” she meant she was sitting in a stall with a purse full of baggies. The genius didn’t think that posting her whereabouts on social media would pose a problem. Neither did the line of men standing outside, waiting on their girls to buy their shit in the women’s bathroom.

  It was a shit day.

  Matt’s been out today, since he’s going to be pulling a double load while I’m in Paris and he wanted a few days off beforehand. So, tonight I had the weight of all that on me alone. The only thing that got me through the night was the thought of Katherine in my bed. It’s been a week, and she still hasn’t gone back to her apartment.

  Also, I can’t help noting that she has yet to reciprocate the “I love you.” I haven’t said it again, and she hasn’t brought it up. That’s pissing me off too. I am ready to make things more permanent. I want her to move in officially. And I want her with me in Paris.

  We’ve gone out to dinner several times. We’ve even gone running in the morning along the beach, which is my favorite thing to do with her, and not just because she looks fuckin’ sexy in her tight little shorts and her sports bra, but because my woman can run. I mean, I thought I was in shape, but Katherine has speed and stamina, and the fact she’s like a free bird now, running outside for the first time in too long, means that she can’t be stopped. This morning her red face, sweaty body, and heaving breaths made me unbelievably hot for her, and we barely made it back into the apartment before I was taking her on the floor. Yes, on the floor. The bed was too far. So my cock inside her on the floor of my apartment is where my thoughts are when I leave Panic at five in the morning in a shitty mood.

  By the time I unlock the door of my apartment, my cock is straining against the zipper of my slacks. Since she keeps the bedside lamp on as well as the bathroom light, it’s easy to see where I’m going. How she gets any real sleep with all this light is beyond me. Julius jumps on me as soon as he sees me, and I whisper for him to stay quiet as I gently set him on the sofa. I went to pick him up a few days ago when I declared she wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

  I take off my shoes and socks, then unbutton my shirt and lay it neatly on the couch. My pants go next. She’s curled facing away from the door and I’m about to lay down next to her, but I have a better idea.

  I lift the covers by her feet and crawl under them. I run my hands up her legs as I slide my body between her legs. When I reach her thighs, I palm them and spread her legs. She groans, and since I can’t see her face, I’m not sure whether she’s awake or asleep. I don’t care, though, because I’m starving, and I’m eating her pussy whether she’s conscious or not. I don’t waste any time—I run my nose up and down her wet lips and then spread her with my thumbs as I lick from ass to clit.

  She jumps off the bed with a scream. For a split second I think it’s an erotic scream until she’s standing on the bed, yanking at the covers. “Oh my God!” she yells again. “Who…what the fuck?” She’s in a defensive stance, as if she’s going to punch me, while I’m lying on my stomach, my face wet from her juices, looking up at her.

  “Nico?”

  “Who the fuck else would be licking your pussy?” I ask, a little taken aback by her reaction.

  She drops down and puts her hand to her chest. “You almost gave me a heart attack. I felt you when you started to move, and I was excited until you put my mouth on me and it felt weird.” She reaches for my face with both of her hands. “Where the hell’s your beard?”

  I sit up and feel my face. “Shaved it off and got a haircut before going to the club today. Geo said I had to shave it off for the wedding.”

  “Oh.” She assesses me again. “You look so different. You feel so different.”

  “Different bad?”

  “No. Just different. But I loved your beard.”

  “I’ll grow it back right after the wedding, if you want. It grows in like a week,” I say. “Now that we’ve been properly reintroduced,” I add, “it’s almost morning, and I’m exhausted. Can I get back to eating your pussy, so we can all go to bed?”

  She laughs. “You can just go to sleep, you know.”

  “Where would be the fun in that?” I say as I push her back softly. “Spread those legs for me, baby, and stop fuckin’ around—I’m tired.” I get back in position and end my horrible night doing the thing I love doing most: Katherine.

  Fourteen

  Smothered

  Nico

  I step onto the balcony at noon to find Katherine working on her laptop. “Morning.”

  She looks up and smiles. “Good morning. How’d you sleep?”

  I yawn and stretch, taking in the beautiful day. “Good. You?”

  “Great,” she replies, setting her laptop down. “Sit. I’ll bring you some coffee. You want some breakfast?”

  I lean against the railing and smile at her. “Nah. Coffee’s good.”

  She goes inside, and I can’t help but think how content I feel. Having grown up in a nightclub surrounded by questionable people, I’ve never really had a normal life. This domestic tranquility feels good, and I don’t ever want it to end. Waking up to Katherine and coming home to her warm body in my bed is blissful. Being with her has become easy now that she’s doing more and more. Except for those times I have to push her to do something she’s scared of doing, we rarely argue.

  I’m looking out over the beach and thinking about how perfect things are when I hear the door open behind me. With a big smile I turn, expecting to find Katherine with my coffee. Instead she has her arms crossed over her chest and a scowl on her face.

  “Why do you have two tickets?” She uncrosses her arms and waves the tickets around.

  “Don’t worry ’bout it.” I take them from her hand. “Is there coffee inside?”

  “Nico, what’s going on? You’re lying to me.” She seems both hurt and pissed, two expressions I don’t want to see on her face. I also don’t want to tell her the truth. Not yet, at least. “Nico?”

  I groan and take her hand and lead her to the chair. “Don’t freak out, okay?”

  She glares at me.

  “I bought you a ticket to Paris to come with me to the wedding. No pressure.”

  “No pressure? That’s the definition of pressure. Why would you do that? I told you I couldn’t go. I’ve been saying I can’t go for months.”

  “You also said you couldn’t leave your apartment. You couldn’t get on an elevator. And look how well you’re doing.”

  “Nico, I can’t. I just—I can’t. The thought of getting into a tin tube hurtling through the sky…no. No way.”

  “Katherine, come on. You’ve done so wel
l. You’ve been going out. You’ve even gone to the club. You’re getting better. I think that part of your life is over.”

  “What part?”

  “The part where you couldn’t leave your house. The part where you were afraid of everything.”

  She looks at me as if I’ve grown a second head. “Do you think I’m cured?”

  “I don’t know if that would be the word I’d use, but for the most part, yes.”

  “I am not going. I can’t do it. I’m not talking about this anymore.” She opens the balcony door, goes inside, and slams it shut.

  She’s not even trying. I know that once she’s on the plane she’ll be fine. She’s always fine in the end. It’s all in her head.

  I go back into the apartment. “That’s why I wasn’t going to tell you. Now you’re working yourself up. I leave in two days—”

  “And what? You were going to drag me into the plane? Distract me with sex? I mean, really, Nico. This is not the same as getting me into an elevator or convincing me to go for a jog on the beach.”

  “Do you know what I noticed the first time I took you to the beach?” I ask, because I know she wants to live life. I know she wants to go to the wedding to see her friend get married. She shakes her head. “I saw joie de vivre, like Geo would say. That’s what I saw.”

  Katherine

  How could he have gotten it so wrong? Even through the triumph of having been able to have that moment on the beach, I still felt scared and lost—definitely not joyful.

  “Wow. You think I felt joy in that moment? Yes, there was joy, but it was outweighed by fear. I was scared to death! You didn’t notice how reluctant I was, how I almost ran back to the apartment, how I had to hold my breath and count to ten in my head over and over to keep in control. Mostly what I felt was accomplishment.

  “All I want is for my world to be bigger than my eight-hundred-square-foot apartment. Walking on the beach, coming here, maybe visiting your sister—that’s enough for me. What I’ve been able to do so far in the last few months is enough for me. It doesn’t mean I’m cured. It doesn’t mean that I would now be the perfect jet-setting girlfriend of a well-known club owner. I can’t be fixed. And if you can’t accept that, how can this possibly work?”

  “I hate when you say shit like that about yourself,” he says with an anger I haven’t seen in a long time. “The woman I fell in love with isn’t a coward.”

  “I’m not a coward. You know that. You know how hard I’ve worked. But I still have limitations. Just because one wall has come down doesn’t mean there aren’t more in my way. I can go to a restaurant, but I can’t get on a plane. I’ll go for a jog outside, but I can’t go boating with you in the middle of the ocean or go skydiving or whatever crazy and dangerous adventure you have planned next.”

  “How can that be enough? I’m not asking you for too much, for God’s sake. Katherine, don’t you want more?”

  “You want too much. Going to the beach is not the same thing as being confined in a metal tube for nine hours.”

  “That’s not how it will be. Once you’re on the plane you’ll be fine. You always are.” He’s so upset, I don’t know what to say to make him understand that I’ve been doing my best.

  “Just because I’m doing things doesn’t mean I’m cured, Nico!” I’m beginning to lose my patience. I almost want to shake him to make him understand. “I struggle. Every time I get into that elevator I feel like I’m going to pass out.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t tell you because I don’t want you to be ashamed. But I struggle. I’m not cured—far from it. That’s why I can’t go. Please don’t push me,” I say angrily. This is the angriest I’ve ever been with him.

  “I have to push you!” he yells back. “If I hadn’t pushed you, you wouldn’t have made so much progress. You want to go a month without seeing me? Because that’s about how long I’ll be gone.”

  “You’re going to be gone for an entire month? Why didn’t I know this?”

  “Because you change the subject every time I bring up Paris. I have some work I have to do, and I wanted you to go with me. See Paris, go to the wedding…”

  “I can’t believe it,” I say, feeling both disheartened and infuriated. “I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me. But you can’t expect me to go from being afraid of my own shadow to going out every night and getting into a damn airplane for hours to go to an unfamiliar city and then go to a wedding with a lot of people I don’t know, Nico. And then,” I say, my voice getting louder and louder, “to stay in a foreign country for a month? It’s too much. I don’t want to go a month without you. But I don’t want all the progress I’ve made to get shot to hell by having a huge relapse because I’m not ready to try this.”

  Running his hands through his hair, he steps back from me and softens his tone. “I have to go to the wedding.”

  “I know. I’m not stopping you.”

  “But you’re my girlfriend. I want you there. I need you there.” He’s not even yelling anymore, which makes it worse somehow. It’s the hurt in his eyes that is shredding me.

  “I can’t go,” I say slowly. He’s not getting it. “You’re pushing me too far, Nico. I’ll end up scared and unable to leave my house again.”

  “You’re not even trying.”

  “How can you say that? Was this your plan all along? To trick me onto a plane?”

  “It’s not that you can’t go. It’s that you won’t go.” His eyes are not on mine; it’s as if he can’t even stand to look at me. “Katherine, you know how I feel about you. I haven’t kept it a secret. I’ve steamrolled myself into your life with the hopes that we were building something together. Until now it’s worked because I thought we wanted the same thing—a future.” He reaches for his beard out of habit; it’s what he does when he’s frustrated. “Katherine, I’m not going to live my life in a sardine can. I can’t. That small apartment of yours can’t be the totality of our life together. Maybe it works for you, but my parameters can’t be a mile around your apartment. You need to become a functioning member of society again. I’ve done everything you’ve needed. Now I’m asking you to do this for me,” he pleads. It’s the first time I’ve seen this side of him. “I’m asking you—no, begging you. Please come with me. Once you get on the plane you’ll be fine.”

  Tears stream down my face. I want so badly to do what he asks, but I can’t. The thought of getting on a plane makes me break out in cold sweat. “I can’t.” It’s a mere whisper, but it may as well be a scream. “The fact that you don’t see that…it means you don’t even know me. Not really. I don’t know how this thing between us is going to work if you can’t accept me as I am.”

  He shakes his head and opens the door. “You pull me close and then you push me away, Katherine. One day you’re going to wake up and have a mountain of regrets piled up in your tiny little apartment. I can’t erase the past for you. It’s always going to be there. But if you’d just let me, I could help make the future better,” he says, his hand squeezing the back of his neck. “You know, I haven’t failed to notice that you haven’t told me you love me. You’re so scared of everything, you won’t even let yourself fall in love. It’s not just about the plane; it’s everything. Shit happens, Katherine. Bad shit can happen to anyone anywhere, and no one can control it. You can choose to get on the plane with me, no matter how hard it is, and let whatever happens happen, or you can stay here and wall yourself up again.”

  “I’m sorry, Nico, I wish I could. But I can’t.”

  Looking disillusioned, he lands his final blow. “What I loved most about you was your determination and courage. This weak person?” He shakes his head sadly. “I’m really disappointed in you, corazón.” Then he closes the door and leaves me alone in his apartment. He doesn’t even slam it.

  The words hit me right in the chest. “Tequila,” I quietly sob at the door, collapsing onto the floor.

  —

  You always remember the last thing
you say to a person. You obsess about it, over and over again. What if I’d said something different? Maybe things wouldn’t have played out the way they did. Every day—every single day.—I hear my mother saying, Love you always, my heart.

  And then her heart stopped beating. And so did mine, for thirteen years.

  I’m disappointed in you, corazón. Those words cut me deeper than any other words ever could.

  After I’ve stopped crying, I pack up my bags and my cat, pull up my Uber app, and go home. He obviously doesn’t want to see me. He’s upset enough to leave his own apartment, for Christ’s sake.

  —

  Falling in love with Nico was unexpected.

  It’s the scariest thing I’ve ever done. All my anxiety and panic, according to the doctors, stem from my fear of losing control. It’s why I am so afraid of admitting out loud that I’m in love with Nico. I’ve known it for some time, but saying the words out loud somehow makes it real. Because if I admit that I’m in love with Nico, he has my heart. He has all the control. He has the ability to destroy me. If something happened to him, my world would end. And now that he’s gone, I realize that whether the words have been said or not, it’s too late.

  I’m so deeply in love with Nico that I can’t crawl my way out.

  As soon as I get home, I get into bed and cry until there’s no more tears left.

  —

  Even shattered and brokenhearted, I refuse to regress.

  It’s been two days and I haven’t heard a word from Nico, but I continue to leave my apartment at least for a jog in the mornings. I know he’s in France, because I saw the date and time on the tickets. He’s right about my regrets. I knew then, and I know now, that I would regret not going—but that wouldn’t have made it any less difficult for me to get my ass on that airplane.

  Earlier today I Skyped with Geo. She’s amped about her upcoming nuptials. I don’t know what Nico told her about us, but she didn’t mention knowing that anything other than my hang-ups was the reason I won’t be attending her wedding. Glowing with excitement, she tells me all about the upcoming ceremony and then more candidly and explicitly how excited she is about the honeymoon—including showing me every piece of lingerie she’s bought.