by Drew Elyse
My phone vibrating violently on the table broke my silent reveries at last.
Charlotte: A bar. Join me?
She sent along another text with the location, and I stared at her messages until my phone went dark on me.
For ten minutes I listed to myself all of the reasons that I should not go out and find her. She doesn’t need your shit. Eli told you to keep your hands off. If you go after her, you’ll cross beyond the boundaries you set. You won’t be able to resist her much longer. But then I remembered that she was out alone in a city she hardly knew. And she had invited me. Join her? How was I supposed to resist that?
Half an hour later, I was inside. The bar was a dive, packed with a crowd cheering on drunks that had volunteered to sing karaoke. Not my scene. But Charlotte was there somewhere, so I couldn’t just walk away.
Ordering a beer, I tried to scan the crowd for her. Some drunk-off-his-ass former frat boy was croaking out Journey, causing an enthusiastic response. I looked on at the scene in disgust. Alcohol can make people cheer for anything. That was when I spotted her. She was standing close to the emcee, pointing out her song choice as the final chords of “Don’t Stop Believin’” made the crowd roar.
This should be interesting.
Charlotte took the stage a little shakily, making me wonder how many drinks she’d had. She looked stunning, donning a short, black lace dress, a red blazer, and red skyscraper heels. She fidgeted with the sleeves of her blazer, which she’d rolled up to just below her elbows, as a few wolf-whistles greeted her. The visceral reaction I had to her, and to the other men ogling her, made me take a few deep breaths.
It was lucky I’d filled my lungs, because when the speakers buzzed to life and those piercing brown eyes rose up to face the crowd, I was frozen. The gentle chords of an acoustic guitar filled the rowdy bar. A hush befell the room as she began to softly croon Bob Dylan’s “Make You Feel My Love.”
It was as if my world had suddenly stopped spinning. All that existed was the ravishing, delicate girl in the spotlight and that voice. Oh, that voice. Her voice was so pure, lacking any harsh tones. It physically drew me closer to the source. The contrast of her innocent purity and the depth of emotion with which she sang about shadows and tears was jarring. It made me want to hold her, to guard her with my life, to keep away anything that tried to hurt her again. I couldn’t help but wish that the words she sang so magnificently could be meant for me; that this slight, beguiling beauty could want to show love to a hopeless bastard like me.
Before I could wrap my head around what I was witnessing, she was mumbling barely audible “thank you” to the audience as they screamed out their approval. Clap, you idiot, I had to instruct myself. As I slowly regained the ability to form coherent thoughts, I cursed Eli for not preparing me for the miraculous talent his sister had. For not making me understand that she had the voice of an angel.
When I finally managed to reach her through the mass of people, some douche bag in a leather jacket had her backed against a wall, trying to talk her up. I knew his game instinctively, and knew I could outmatch him. Showtime, Logan.
Michael wore too tight jeans and too strong aftershave. The smell made me feel dizzy, or maybe that was the alcohol. I looked anywhere but directly at him, hoping the sleaze-ball would get the hint and back off, but either he was too drunk to notice, or else he simply did not care. I began to regret the liquor spreading through my blood stream. Sober, I would have been more equipped to rid myself of his unwanted attention.
As my eyes swept the bar in front of me again, I saw him. Logan, looking impeccable in dark jeans and a heather grey t-shirt, strode towards me with his strong jaw set in determination. He looked undeniably sexy and it sent a thrill through me that he was there for me. I tried to decipher the look in his eyes, but between the distance and the alcohol-induced fuzziness that clouded my conscious, I could not.
A moment later, he was immediately before me and still moving closer. “Hey Baby,” he said with that rueful, arrogant-bastard smile of his. He snuck his hand around my waist to the small of my back, and pulled me closer. He completely ignored Michael standing beside me.
Caught off guard, I had no response. All I had was the flush of my skin as I reacted to his body against mine. The feel of him pulling me in was so natural, as though I was made to fit against him.
Logan leaned in to me, and his lips brushed my ear as he whispered, “Shall we make this chump go away?”
“Please,” I whispered back to him. Alcohol had nothing on his intoxicating scent. Breathing him in made me feel far more light-headed than the three drinks I’d had. Okay four. Or five.
With his eyes blazing, he moved before me and wrapped both arms around my waist. My heart beat wildly, thinking he might kiss me. I am sure we looked like a young couple too infatuated to keep our hands off of each other. Logan could not have looked more convincing, and I found myself falling for his deception, as well. I just tried to keep up with him.
“How much have you had to drink?” It took me a moment to note the hint of accusation in his tone past the feel of his cheek coming into contact with mine.
I shrugged, smiling sweetly at him. Behind him, Michael began to skulk off in search of a new target.
Logan stepped back, releasing his hold on my body in exchange for my hand. It took a second to qualm the sense of devastation as his hands left my torso. He led me across the bar. I didn’t realize we were leaving until we stepped outside. I released his hand and stopped in my tracks.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, bemused.
“Why are we leaving?”
“Because, you’ve had enough. We should go home.”
“I’m not that drunk,” I tried to enunciate and appear as in control of my facilities as possible, “and I don’t want to go home, yet.”
“That drunk? Is being drunk the goal of this exercise?” When I did not respond, he continued, “Why do you want to get drunk alone?”
“I don’t want to talk about it. I just wanted to let off some steam. I… I just want you to go home. I don’t want to be around you right now.”
“Did I miss something? You invited me. Why don’t you want me around?”
His complete ignorance infuriated me. “Are you serious?” Nothing, no response. “Because… when you’re around I… I can’t…” Deep breath. “Just… go home Logan.”
“Charlotte,” he looked at me with a sort of sadness in his eyes. “I’m sorry, but don’t argue with me about this. I’m taking you home.” There was a controlled quality to his voice that somehow made me snap. I was tired of all his damn control.
“Dammit Logan! I’m 24 years old! If I want to get drunk at a bar on a Friday night, I will! You are not my father, or my brother, or even my boyfriend. You are my roommate. You don’t get a say in what I do!”
He was taken aback by my response, but recovered himself quickly to steal the upper hand. “Would you like to call your brother? See what he thinks?”
“Leave Eli out of it!” I yelled, but it was too late. His phone was already out. Eli’s picture appeared on the screen as Logan put the call through. I imagined Eli’s reaction to me being out drinking alone, having admitted by omission that I intended to get drunk. “Okay! I’ll come home! Just hang up the damn phone!”
The bastard had the gall to cock a smile at me as he hung up. He exuded arrogance and it made me want to cut him down to size, but he also looked so gorgeous that I would have settled for running my tongue along his jaw.
“Afraid of big brother finding out what you’re up to, Charlotte?”
“I think you know damn well why I don’t want Eli to know about this,” I snapped. Eli would be a nightmare.
Logan looked genuinely confused. Perhaps Eli did not regale him with details of why I moved to Seattle. It was certainly not a story I wanted to tell.
“Let’s go,” I said before Logan could question me. I could tell by the look in his eyes that he wanted to get to the bottom of it
, but for the moment, he resigned.
He began to fumble with his phone again, answering my bemused expression by mouthing the word “cab” at me.
“What about your car?” I asked when he hung up.
“You aren’t the only one who has been drinking.”
“You’re drunk?!” I half-shouted in indignation.
“No, but I’m not going to drive, either. Particularly with you in the car,” he stated matter-of-factly.
I tried not to think about how it was endearing that he cared about my safety, too. Instead, I chose to study Logan’s profile while he watched for our cab. He didn’t look at me, but he must have been aware of the fact that I was staring.
We rode back to the apartment in silence. When we arrived, I immediately enclosed myself in my room. I didn’t want to be around Logan, and his goddamned sexuality, and the goddamned butterflies that went in crazy in my stomach when he was close.
I turned on my iPod and tied to focus on anything but the infuriating man in the other room. It was an unsuccessful venture.
Who did he think he was, sweeping in to save me from some misperceived danger? My thoughts strayed back to the sleaze-ball at the bar. I could have handled him. Right? I was not damsel in distress that needed saving by the courtly knight. Was I?
Courtly knight. The thought made me laugh. Nothing could have been further from the truth. I wondered if Sir Lancelot was out there talking to one of his girls. Logan was no representation of chivalry.
He did come to get you. It may have been an ill-perceived danger, but he came when he thought I needed him. Why? I rationalized that he was trying to be a good friend – both to me and to Eli – by looking out for me. Still, in the back of my mind I held on to hope that it was more than friendship that drew him into the bar.
No. I couldn’t think like that. I could not be with Logan. He would be bad for me, and worse, I’d be bad for him. He did not deserve to deal with my myriad of emotional problems.
As time passed, I became aware of just drunk I had been. The fuzziness in my head cleared and the night was a blur. I could remember everything, but the details were lost under a tequila fog. Only one thought was clear, I owed Logan an apology. I decided to wash up and then go ask forgiveness for the way I had treated him.
I had no idea what to do. When I’d left to go to Boxcar, I had hoped that… I’m not even sure what I wanted. The only thing that I knew I wanted was Charlotte. Hearing her sing was like being run through with a sword. My chest was sporting a gaping hole, and only she could fix it.
She was it. Everything. The embodiment of all of my desires – physical or otherwise. Still, I was sure I could never deserve her.
Maybe I’m a masochist, but I found myself at the piano. Somewhere in my dismal reverie, I had printed out the sheet music for “Make You Feel My Love.” I moved as gracefully as I could through the chords. Perhaps I was trying to prove that the song was just movingly beautiful on its own, not because of Charlotte’s perfect voice. It wasn’t. Instead, I ended up playing through it again and again, like I was stuck on repeat, hearing her angelic voice in my head, willing it to be real.
“The storms are raging on the rolling sea.”
The words filled my ears in the same magnificent voice I’d been imagining. My eyes snapped open to see her standing there. She was right at the end of the piano, staring down at me with her breathtaking eyes bright. I could not stop playing. I think I would have died if I didn’t hear her sing the rest.
She’d moved closer to me with every word, so that when I released the final chord, she was standing beside me. I stared up into her eyes, breathless. So much shone in their depths: passion, innocence, wonder, and trepidation. That underlying fear I’d seen so many times still lingered and I knew instinctively that I could never hurt her. It may be a huge challenge to attempt to be worthy, but I would endure whatever was necessary. I had no choice. As I met those magnificent eyes, I knew that she was already in my heart, so I would have to earn her or die trying.
“Why that song?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Because you sing it so beautifully. I couldn’t get your voice out of my head.”
Silence settled between us again. As she looked into my eyes, I could read even more in hers. I saw desire, and more amazingly, trust. Despite her past, despite what she knew of mine, she trusted me. It was that detail that caused me to let go.
I flew to my feet, enclosed her delicate face in my hands, claiming those full lips like I’d dreamed of doing since that first day in the rain. Her initial surprise released from her muscles and her body relaxed against mine. Slipping my fingers into her silken hair, I kissed her deeper. She let me mold her soft lips, responding with a tender sweetness that only ignited my blood further. All I could think of was how desperately I wanted to be close to her. My right hand moved to the Eden that was her lower back, feeling completely at home as it had earlier when I’d had her in my arms at the bar. Pulling her fragile body tight to mine, heat shot through every inch of me.
An innocent, quiet moan rang from her, causing her mouth to open at last. The ecstasy of tasting her caused my blood to serge downward. Almost immediately, my cock was solid and pulsing with desperate need. The need grew beyond anything I had ever known when Charlotte began to respond more fervently. Her hands rested on my chest and the heat that radiated from them warmed my entire body.
I scrounged up all of my control to pull back from her. “Charlotte,”
She cut me off by moving into me again. Her lips pushed against mine in sweet persuasion. I had to give in.
I could feel the softness of her curves against my stiff body. A deep, primal groan emanated from my chest. She was mine. I had to have her. I needed her.
With a desperation I had never known before, I pulled way again and grabbed her hand to lead her to my room. She followed willingly, which only spurred the ache.
In the room, she slipped her soft, timid hands beneath my t-shirt, grazing over my skin as she lifted it off. Her eyes and hands raked over my abdomen, chest and arms, her fingers gliding reverently over the lines of my tattoos. As erotic as her soft touch was, I had to stop her. I couldn’t keep my hands off of her another minute.
Knowing that I could finally worship her body the way that I desired to made me feel like a dazed kid in a candy store. I didn’t know where to start. Seeing the intoxicating hem of her dress skimming her thighs, I decided to start with those incredible legs. Her supple but toned thighs were the stuff fantasies. I tried to move slowly, to savor her the way she was meant to be. The fabric gathered and bunched as I moved upward to reveal inch after inch of flawless skin.
My cock lurched violently when my fingers at last brushed against the bottom curve of her ass. There was no suppressing the primal growl that rumbled from my chest as I grasped on the soft flesh, kneading it gently with only a thin layer of lace panties covering the glory I had coveted from afar. Hours could be spent marveling her ass, but I moved on to the rest of the heaven of her body.
By the time I lifted the dress off of her to enjoy her chest, I could feel her entire body flush and quake just slightly. Hoping to make her a bit more comfortable, I lowered her gently onto the bed.
Yet, as I crawled over her, what I saw in her eyes stopped me dead.
“Charlotte?” Her eyes were dilated with fear like they had been after her panic attack.
“I...” The tremor in her voice was nauseating. “I don’t think… I… I can’t…”
It hit me like a freight truck. What had I been thinking? This was too far, too fast. She was trying to push herself to do more than she was ready for with me. And why? Probably because of me and my history. She probably thought I expected it of her from the moment I kissed her. Self-loathing didn’t begin to cover what I was feeling.
I moved so that I was beside her and pulled her into a tight embrace. “Shh… Charlotte we don’t need to do anything. Please, just relax.”
“I’m s
orry. I don’t want to… disappoint you.” Her hushed apology for not wanting to sleep with me – when I’d done nothing to prove that she should trust me that much – made me feel desperate.
“Please, Charlotte,” I pleaded. “It’s okay. You’ve given me so much already.”
The tremors slowed over time as I gently held her and smoothed my hand over her sweet-smelling hair. The scent made my head spin. It smelled like some sort of flower, but I couldn’t place it for the life of me.
Although it was not the most peaceful transition, she eventually drifted off in my arms. Despite the lull that was her even breathing, I lay awake long after she had fallen asleep. Life had thrown me a curveball in the form of the girl curled up beside me. What the hell was I thinking allowing myself to take things so far so quickly? To make things worse, I hadn’t even said a thing about my intentions. No wonder she was scared.
My fingers grazed over the scar on her wrist with apprehension. I should have stayed away; I should have kept her safe from me. But damn it, if I wasn’t strong enough to do that, I could at least show her that I would do anything to make her happy. I vowed that in the morning, I’d show what I felt for her.
I woke up alone. I was aware of the fact that Logan was no longer beside me before I even opened my eyes. Glancing around the room, I was struck by the pounding in my temples. Oh yes, the drinking. My mouth was arid. When I sat up, the comforter fell off of the top of my body. I was only in a bra and panties. Seeing the minimal fabric sent me into a whirlwind of memories from the night before. Oh yes, the kissing. The ecstasy of Logan’s kiss could not be outdone, but the fear had snuck in. Fear that things would go south like they had before. I couldn’t live through that again.
With the morning light came a sickening sort of clarity. I almost had sex with Logan, a man who had admitted to removing emotion from his sexual encounters – his frequent encounters – with women more equipped to please him than I was. A man that had told me up front that we would never be together. What the hell was I thinking?