The Perfect Wave

by A. J. Pryor

  I twirled the watch around my wrist then took it off and looked at every inch of it. My finger traced the words she’d written on the card and I thought about how absolutely and completely messed up it was, that six months ago I would have been banging some girl hard right now, probably have no idea what her name was and wouldn’t have given a shit. Yet, here I sat, staring at my phone waiting for a girl to call.

  She never did.

  Three hours later, I finally received a text from her: “Sorry I stopped by without calling first. You don’t owe me an explanation. I get it.”

  ervousness caused my stomach to clench as I got ready for Casey and Mason’s engagement party. They had invited fifty guests to this black-tie event at their beach house. Casey was sending a limo to pick me up. She told me my invite would say “plus one,” but I didn’t have a guest to join me.

  I considered asking Jaxon, but that may give him the wrong impression. I had no idea if Roan was bringing a date; he certainly had plenty of choices.

  Casey promised to sit me with her sister and brother-in-law, Kathy and Rich Hines, so I could be far away from her table, where Roan would be seated. I hadn’t gotten the picture of him with that tacky girl out of my mind. He really was a dog, and I needed to remember that. I’d seen him pick girls up and seen him flirt, but I’d never actually seen him making out with anyone. Witnessing a real-life girl writhing on his lap stirred up emotions in me that I couldn’t name or seem to dismiss.

  I never should have shown up at his place unannounced. Of course, he had someone there —he’s Roan Anders for crying out loud. In all the voicemails he’d left me over the past few days, he never mentioned the watch.

  I took one more look in the mirror before I headed out the door to the waiting limo. I had chosen a sapphire-blue, one-shoulder dress that flowed perfectly down my body, with gold Jimmy Choo stilettos. My hair was up, with pieces falling down past my shoulders, and my makeup was understated with a hint of smoky eyes.

  Taking a big breath, I made my way outside. The driver was holding the door open for me. I hoped Casey had stocked the bar—I definitely needed a drink before I walked into this party.

  “Thank you,” I said to the man, as I leaned in through the open car door.

  I got into the limo. Then I found that I wasn’t alone.

  “Hey, Goldilocks. I hope you don’t mind sharing. Mason said you don’t have a plus one either, so I thought we could ride together.”

  To say I was caught off guard would not do my emotions justice. I froze as the limo pulled away from the curb. The forward jolt of the car caused me to lose my balance and pushed me back on the seat. Composing myself, I said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without a plus one. Or a plus two for that matter.” I smirked at him as I tried to get comfortable in the seat across from his.

  He laughed. “You got me there, Locks. But redheads and brunettes don’t really do it for me. I’ve been more into blondes lately.” He leaned over and helped me be seated.

  I narrowed my eyes at him. What kind of game was he playing? And why was he in this limo? He lived in Venice; my place in Beverly Hills was out of the way.

  Ignoring my questioning glare, he pointed to the bar. “Drink?”

  I scanned the liquor selection. There was everything imaginable. Wine wasn’t going to work—I needed something stronger. I spotted a tequila bottle and some lime wedges. Mentally thanking Casey for her telepathic abilities, I reached for a shot glass and the tequila at the same time.

  Roan chuckled, and I looked at his face. Our eyes locked.

  “Good choice.” He broke eye contact and grabbed his own shot glass. We toasted and downed our shots and then sucked on the lime wedges to ease the burning sensation. I sighed as the liquor made a warm trail down my throat and into my belly. Roan was still staring at me, and I decided I needed another shot.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “What could you possibly be sorry for, Surfer Boy?”

  He sighed. “I’m sorry you saw that on Wednesday night. That’s not usually my style, but I’m not used to feeling like this.”

  He had my full attention. I stopped pouring my third shot and looked at him. Very cautiously, I asked, “Like what?”

  “Like if I ever walked in and saw you in the same situation as that night, I’d go insane.”

  He leaned across the distance that separated us and placed his hands on my legs. His sleeve moved up his arm exposing the watch I’d bought him. “Like I might explode if I can’t touch you again.”

  “Oh,” was all I could manage as I felt his fingers through the silky material of my dress.

  “Yeah, oh. Problem is, Locks, I want to do more than just touch you, but we can’t go there.”

  I swallowed. “Why is that?” My heart was pounding loudly in my chest. I was sure even the driver could hear it up in the front seat of the limo.

  “Because I’ll mess everything up, and that would be like screwing up my family. If I hurt you . . .” He was silent, and holding onto my thighs. “I honestly can’t even go there. Hurting you would have the same consequence as letting down my brother, and that just isn’t an option. At first I stayed away to save any friendships that would get caught in the crossfire, but it’s gone beyond that.” He looked down for a second then back up into my eyes. “I’m thirty years old, and I’ve never felt this way before.”

  I was stunned by his honesty and I appreciated it. “I don’t know what to say.” I wanted to tell him it didn’t matter if he hurt me, that I’d take anything over the endless throng of women he always had around him, but he was right—we were in a different situation from most. If it didn’t work out, there was a lot more at risk than just our hurt feelings.

  “Don’t say anything,” he said. “Only know I’m sorry, and I don’t want to hurt you. You’ve become one of my best friends, and I’ll try my best to be more respectful of our friendship and not flaunt whatever I’m doing in your face.”

  “Why do you think I’m bothered by your . . . extracurricular activities?” I asked.

  His eyebrows rose, and then he leaned closer and whispered in my ear, “Because I can feel your body tremble beneath me when I touch you. I can hear your heart speed up when I’m near you, and I’ve watched you stop breathing when I walk up to you. I know how you feel, Locks, because I feel the same way.” His cheek brushed against mine, and he sat back in his seat. Words were stuck in my throat and I sat there silent.

  “I’ll figure it out, Jess. Please give me some time.”

  That was the first time he’d ever used my name. He said it so quietly I almost didn’t hear him.

  I watched him from across the limo, our eyes locked on each other’s. There was nothing else to say.

  We pulled into Mason’s driveway, and Roan took the tequila bottle and shot glass out of my hand. I never did get to pour myself that third shot. He grabbed my hands, his jacket once again sliding up his arm revealing the watch he’d yet to acknowledge.

  Releasing one of my hands from his, I trailed a finger along the outer edges of the watch, brushing against his skin as it circled around.

  Looking down at the motion of my finger, he smiled. “I wanted to thank you in person. You wouldn’t see me this week and a text couldn’t convey how much I love this watch. It was the best present I’ve ever received. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I’ll figure this out,” he repeated again, this time more to himself than to me. “Be patient with me, please. I can’t lose you even as a friend. You mean so much to me.”

  I must be nuts. Even though I had seen him with numerous women over the past few weeks, I still wanted him as badly as I had that first moment when we met.

  Deciding I would trust his surprising confession, I responded, “You won’t lose me, Roan. At least not as a friend.”

  He smiled at me and squeezed my hand. “Ready?”

  I nodded and squeezed back. The door to the limo opened and we exited, our
fingers locked together. Engulfed by the intoxicating smell of the ocean, my mind cleared. I could do this. I could be a little patient and find out where this infatuation took us.

  Inside the beach house, every room had a panoramic view of the water – an image that never failed to soothe me. Waiters dressed in black tuxedos were passing trays of appetizers and champagne. Strands of lights hung from the ceiling, and looking outside I could see them hanging from the trees as well. Mason’s sister, Grace, had planned this evening, and it was clear she hadn’t missed a thing. It was stunning.

  “You’re here!” Casey yelled.

  I smiled at her. “It’s beautiful. Grace did an amazing job.” I hugged her and took in her appearance. She was wearing a champagne strapless gown that could have doubled for a wedding dress. Her hair was up, and she had on teardrop diamond earrings. She looked amazing.

  “Hey, Romeo, you’re looking hot,” she said as she gave him a hug. “Hot” was an understatement. He was wearing a black tuxedo with a black bow tie and his hair was slicked back, showing off his bright blue eyes. He was a remarkable sight; he could’ve been mistaken for a Greek god with his golden skin and solid muscles.

  Mason came up right after Casey. “Finally you guys are here. Now this party can really start!” He had a huge grin, as if he knew something the rest of us didn’t. I caught Roan giving him a look of death but wasn’t sure what it was all about. Casey grabbed my arm and dragged me away and inside.

  “What’s going on?” she asked in my ear.

  “I have no idea, Case, but he won’t stop staring at me or holding my hand. He asked me to be patient with him. I think he’s trying to make things clearer, but now I’m even more confused.”

  Casey shrugged. “At least he’s solo tonight.”

  I laughed. “Praise the Lord for small miracles. Come on, let’s mingle.”

  I walked around with her and talked to her family. She introduced me to people I had never met. When we made it over to her sister, Kathy, I had to stay and let Casey do the rest of the rounds without me. I hadn’t seen Kathy in a while, and I wanted to catch up.

  “So point him out,” she said.

  “Point who out?” I asked, feigning confusion. Kathy was my surrogate mom since the real one lived miles away in Texas. She could read me like a book.

  She gave me a look, letting me know she wasn’t going to play this game. I searched the party, looking for the mop of blonde hair that made my knees weak. I found Roan staring at me. When our eyes met, he smiled and turned away.

  “Oh, I saw him. He’s sexy, Jess,” Kathy said and then took a sip of her martini.

  “Yes, he is, but there’s nothing going on, and I’m not sure there ever will be.”

  “Maybe not now, but give it time. That boy wants a piece of you.”

  I laughed at her choice of words. “Why do you say that?”

  “Come on. He’s circling you like a hungry wolf, never letting you out of his sight. Even when he’s talking to those other girls, he looks around to find you.”

  I thought back on all the times I’d been around Roan. All I could see were the different women on his arm. He was the biggest flirt, but I’d assumed that was his style. That was why his admission in the car surprised me.

  I realized then that she hadn’t stopped talking. “. . . Chicken with plum in a pastry was their favorite?”

  Oh, my cookbook. She must know that Jaxon’s dad was interested in publishing it. “Yes, it’s one of mine too. Can you believe next year at this time I may be a published author? Have you met Jaxon? He’s the cutest thing in the world.”

  Kathy smiled at me, “Yeah, and what else? Any sparks?”

  Before I could answer, the waiters announced it was time to sit down for dinner. My card said I was at table two, with Casey’s siblings. As I made my way over, someone grabbed my elbow.

  “Will you sit with me?” Roan was sliding his hand down the inside of my arm until his fingers entwined with mine. The powerful rush from our skin-on-skin contact startled me, and the jolt of electricity stilled my legs.

  “You okay, Locks?” he whispered in my ear.

  Roan’s thumb made a constant sweeping motion over mine. I looked up into his eyes and nodded, willing myself forward. With him.

  Dinner went smoothly. Over tri-tip and salmon, Roan told me about his brother, on a scholarship at UCLA. He spoke as if Blake were his son, which made me wonder about their parents. Roan made no mention of them.

  The band had been playing only instrumental music but now started to pick up. The first song they played was “September” by Earth, Wind & Fire.

  Roan grabbed my hand. “Come on, Goldilocks. Let’s dance.”

  Dancing was my favorite activity next to cooking. Once the music was moving through my veins, my body took over, and I couldn’t be responsible for what happened.

  Casey and Mason had this ridiculous obsession with eighties love songs. When she had shown me the playlist for her wedding, I made her change it. Simply because they liked to be cheesy didn’t mean all their guests should suffer. I was happy to see she had taken my advice for her engagement party as well.

  I wrapped myself around Roan. I couldn’t help it. This was the only way I knew how to dance. Our hips were joined, my hands moving through his hair, and our faces were almost touching as we got down. The music changed to “I Gotta Feeling” by the Black Eyed Peas and then to the B-52s’ “Love Shack”—all fast-paced songs that had us moving quickly. Still, Roan’s hands stayed on my body, sliding up and down my sides, touching me everywhere.

  In a flash, the mood changed, and “Secret Garden” by Bruce Springsteen started to play. I loved this song, and the one man who could bring me to my knees pulled me to him, his grip tightening around me as he rested his forehead on mine and looked deep into my eyes. I had to hold my breath, scared I would say something to frighten him away.

  “Goldilocks, you are one smooth dancer.” He closed his eyes and wrapped his arm around my back, bringing my other hand up to his chest. We were barely moving, swaying back and forth in the middle of the dance floor, listening to the music and calming our breathing.

  I was close enough to feel his heart pounding against my chest, feel his pulse in the hand that held mine. All he had to do was lean in a fraction of an inch, and he could kiss me. I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to; it would ruin this moment, which I would store in my mind forever. The song ended, and he opened his eyes and caught me staring at him.

  He looked torn and pulled back. “I’m going to go get some water. Do you want anything?”

  “No, thanks. I’m going to sit down.”

  Our table was empty; everyone was dancing. I waited, wondering when Roan would return.

  Casey was suddenly by my side. “Jess, come dance with me!”

  I spent the next two hours dancing to every song that played, with anyone and everyone who’d have me. Roan was nowhere to be found, and I wasn’t sure I cared.

  Suddenly his hands circled my waist, and his warm breath was in my ear. “You ready to go home, Goldilocks?”

  I looked behind me and grabbed his hand. “Yep, I’m beat.” I followed him out of the party, saying good-bye to everyone as we left. Once we were in the limo, he pulled my legs onto his lap and gently took off my shoes. He slid his thumb up the instep of my foot and expertly massaged the soreness away. I moaned at the exquisite feeling, loving it, but wondering if it would lead us to a place of no return and regret. He sensed my hesitation and paused. Our eyes locked, and I saw my desire mirrored in his intense blue gaze.

  Slowly he rubbed my feet again and those sensations ignited the fire between my legs. My mind tumbled with conflicting emotions – I wanted this, I wanted more, but I didn’t think his request of patience was for a mere few hours. Even though I was ready, I wasn’t sure Roan was and pushing him too soon, could only lead to heartbreak—most likely, mine.

  He didn’t say a word as his hands traveled up my leg to my calves, trying to knea
d away my doubt, and maybe his. I thought about straddling his lap and kissing him. Easing the ache that was growing between my thighs.

  The questions ricocheting off my mind were expressed in a single word, “Roan?”

  He grabbed my hands and pulled me so our faces were inches apart, his lips almost touching mine. “Goldilocks?” he asked while his hands traveled up my arms and to my shoulders. He trailed a finger along my collarbone, up to my ear, and cupped my face in his hands. “Goldilocks,” he sighed. My name, the answer to his question.

  I was waiting in breathless anticipation for him to kiss me. He was right there, but I wouldn’t lean in to him. He had to make the first move. I felt his body twitch, saw him inch toward me. Then the limo stopped. Neither of us moved. The door opened, and there was the driver.

  “Jessica, this is your stop,” he said.

  Our connection was broken. As he slipped my shoes back on, he asked coolly, “Will you meet me Monday morning, the usual time, for a surf lesson?”

  My eyes shot up to his. His quick change in demeanor angered me. I was turned on beyond belief and, what, he only wanted to teach me to surf ?

  “I’ll have to check my schedule,” I responded as the opportunity that had opened between us slammed once again shut.

  . Was. Screwed. I knew the moment she got out of the limo, leaving me alone with her scent, that I was screwed. My hard-on raged, oblivious to the fact that it would see no action. It hadn’t let up since our stint on the dance floor. If I hadn’t left her to get water, I would have lost it in my pants like a teenager. It was a shitty thing to do, leaving her alone without an explanation, but I had an image to protect. My inner circle knew me as a player, not this Surfer Boy handle that Jess liked to throw at me, making me feel like an adolescent all over again.