Keeping Her Close: A Slow Burn Standalone

by Casey Diam

  “You should come to the funeral,” he found himself saying. Shit. Why did he ask her that? It made no sense. She barely knew Damian. She looked puzzled. Palms sweaty and throat dry, he continued, “I mean, Adrianna might need that closure.”

  He’d been doing a good job of hiding his grief—even from himself—but now reality was starting to slap him in the face. One of his best friends was gone. Taking off his dark sunglasses, Brandon walked to the casket propped on a stand in the front of the church. Before he could gather his thoughts, Damian’s two teenage sisters, Rue and Sandra, came out of nowhere and hugged him, both sobbing with bloodshot eyes.

  What could he offer them as solace, today of all days? He rubbed their backs, wishing he could take their pain.

  “How’s your mom?” he asked when they loosened their hold on him.

  “Holding up about as well as . . .”

  Spotting Jordan and Adrianna as they entered the church, he signaled them over, bringing the sisters up to speed. “The girl with the black hair had been dating your brother for a few weeks.”

  “We know. He called and told us about her,” Sandra, the older sister, said. “Swore he’d finally met his match and was going to invite her to Thanksgiving this year. We thought it was just one of his ploys, only this means it’s true if she’s here.”

  “Adrianna,” Rue said, hugging her as soon as she could get her hands on her. “This must be so hard for you. Damian told us so much about you. I know you hadn’t known each other long, but we were already looking forward to meeting you at Thanksgiving.”

  “He was going to invite me to Thanksgiving? Oh . . .”

  After the girls did their introductions, Rue, Sandra, and Adrianna started to sob in unison. Brandon invited Jordan to sit with him by Andrew and Sarah. Jordan’s face seemed devoid of emotion. It was like she wasn’t even here.

  “You’re the only one holding it together right now. I need you right next to me at all times today,” he whispered, trying to bring her back from wherever she was.

  “The ceremony will be starting in five minutes,” a masculine voice announced through the microphone.

  Sarah smiled, her blue eyes dull in comparison to her long, purple-ombré hair. She waved at Brandon as he sat down on the church pew next to Andrew.

  “Who’s your friend?” Sarah winked, her nose rings sparkling, one a hoop and the other a stud.

  Was there such a thing as a hippy, punk rock girl? If so, that was Sarah. But she was also one of the good ones, or so he’d gathered over the years he’d known her.

  She extended her hand to Jordan. “Hi, I’m Sarah, Andrew’s girlfriend.”

  Jordan shook Sarah’s hand. “I’m Jordan. Nice to meet you.”

  “Oh! Jordan. Very nice to finally meet you.” Sarah smiled.

  What was happening? The way Sarah was grinning, Andrew must have said something. Which was strange, because he hadn’t told Andrew anything. Though the bastard hadn’t stopped teasing him about Jordan since she’d hung with them at his house.

  “Asshole,” Brandon said through his teeth to Andrew.

  “Watch your mouth . . . We are in the Lord’s house,” Andrew said.

  Brandon made a sign of the cross over his chest and asked forgiveness.

  The rest of the ceremony was pure agony.

  Damian’s mom wailed, and Jordan’s arm squeezed Adrianna’s shaking shoulders. When Jordan’s head rested against his chest, he stretched an arm around both her and Adrianna. The weird thing was that Jordan remained calm, at least that’s what he thought until he looked down and saw silent tears spilling down her cheeks. He pressed his lips to her forehead and pulled his handkerchief from his pocket; he handed it to her, and she handed it to Adrianna.

  He brought his free hand up to wipe her wet cheeks, and warm tears moistened his fingers. He moved his hand away, realizing it was trembling. He needed to get her back. Jordan Artesian needed to be his.

  Brandon spent the next week completely miserable, while also trying his best to catch up on school work, something he always seemed to be behind on. The empty feeling in his house and heart pushed him to the gym. Working out was the only thing able to reduce his pent-up emotions over losing his friend. For days he secluded himself from everyone, except the one or two times he showed up to work.

  The next week, after four consecutive days of seclusion, he asked Jordan to lunch. Not having used a razor in days, he looked like hell, but he didn’t give a shit. He wanted to see if she could distract him from thinking about Damian. And whether she could or couldn’t, he still needed to ask her for another chance.

  But right now, there was a small issue threatening their exchange: he was high, and Jordan was a goody two-shoes. He didn’t smoke often, but marijuana was a recreational habit he and his friends would partake in once or twice a year. However, at desperate times like these, quantities had to be modified.

  At the sight of him, Jordan’s mouth dropped. The woman was anything but subtle. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair. At least he was clothed . . . His shirt and pants could use an iron, but regardless, he was dressed. He held his arms out for a hug, keeping his bloodshot eyes behind some old aviator Ray-Bans he’d found in his garage.

  Squeezing her body into his, he groaned. “God, you smell good. Oh, can you drive? I took an Uber here because I’m kinda, sorta high.”

  She laughed. “Wow, I didn’t expect that, but I can’t say I’m surprised. You look high.”

  “What, you don’t like the beard?”

  As she turned in to the Santa Monica Pier parking lot, he pulled a small joint from his pocket and played with it. “I can’t believe you’re okay with me being high.”

  “I see you still think I have a stick up my ass.”

  Moving his sunglasses to the top of his head, he looked at her, all pristine and beautiful in her skirt suit. “You’re never going to let me forget that, are you? So how about this—have you ever gotten high?”

  Looking at the joint in his hand, she said, “Yeah, about six years ago.”

  Wow. Maybe she wasn’t completely a goody two-shoes. “Do you want to again, with me?”

  Jordan parked the car in a secluded area and unbuckled her seatbelt. And like she’d been waiting to say it since he’d gotten in the car with her, she announced, “I’m dating someone.”

  He nodded as the last of anything that mattered slipped through his fingers. “That didn’t take long.” He lit the joint and took a long draw.

  “And it won’t take you long either. Are you trying to tell me you haven’t gotten into some girl’s pants already?”

  He shrugged, and Jordan snatched the joint from his hand. “Jerk! Yet you’re trying to make me feel like shit. Unbelievable!” Putting it between her lips, she inhaled, and it sent her into a coughing frenzy.

  He rubbed her back. “Slow down. Don’t hit it so hard.” She recoiled from his touch, and he frowned. “So I can’t touch you now?”

  She cleared her throat. “It’s not that. You’re very . . . you have a way with women, and I don’t want to be dragged into your charms again. We can’t be the way we used to be.”

  “Are you saying you’re scared of being seduced by me?” He took the joint and reclined his seat into a comfortable position.

  “No. I mean, you can’t flirt with me.” She twisted in her seat. “Ugh! Why can’t I recline my seat too?”

  “Here, let me.” He leaned over her lap to pull the knob.

  She sucked in a breath. “Okay, there’s maybe a one-percent chance of you seducing me. You could have told me so I could do it myself. I mean, it’s my car. Am I already high or something?”

  “I could have told you, but I wanted to get close to you. And you shouldn’t have told me about that one-percent chance. It’s usually all I need.” He flashed her a grin. “And no, you’re not high yet, just tense. Thanks to me, right?”

  Her eyes held his. “Why thanks to you?”

  “I didn’t fuck you when I had th
e chance.”

  She inhaled and shuffled in her seat. “Brandon, don’t do that. If we’re going to be friends, we have to respect each other’s relationships. Otherwise this friendship won’t work. I don’t want to have to . . .” Her gaze settled on the smoke drifting from the joint in her hand, and she relaxed into her seat. “Holy crap. This is really strong. Wow,” she sighed.

  Brandon laughed. “And now she’s high. Look at that, you don’t even remember what you were fussing about.”

  She giggled. “I don’t.”

  A few moments later, Jordan drew in smoke and said, “I want to learn how to make those smoke rings. You know, when they puff out the circles, like . . .” She tried but failed.

  He bit his lower lip. Jordan was sexy as fuck, and every second he spent with her had him recognizing how in sync they were, and how perfect they could have been together. Good thing he was high, because otherwise he would be kicking something for losing her.

  “Like this.” He drew in enough smoke and puffed out three rings.

  “Yes! That’s so cool!”

  “What you have to do is fold your lips over your teeth. Bring your tongue to the back of your mouth and then to the front like this,” he explained, showing her first without, then with smoke. “Here, try it.”

  Succeeding after the fifth try, she celebrated. “Yes! Finally.”

  He laughed. “Again, I’m thinking I’m a bad influence on you.”

  “You are a bad influence on me. But it’s okay. I need it. I’ve been too careful for too long.” She leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes. “I’m so high.”

  He snorted and dropped the roach outside the car. “What do you want for lunch?”

  “I’m craving donuts, but I don’t know.” Turning her head to him, she asked, “What do you want?”

  “There are some coffee shops on the strip. I’m sure we both can find something there.”

  A little while later, as Brandon chewed on a bite from his sandwich at a bistro table outside a café, he shifted his gaze from the passersby at the sound of a moan. He focused on Jordan’s mouth just in time to see her tongue slide across her lips to lick at a crumb, and his vision blurred. The last time he got an instant boner was . . . her.

  “Jordan?”

  He pulled his lip between his teeth at the sound of another moan, watching as she sucked the glaze from the tip of her thumb.

  Inhaling, he cleared his throat. “Jordan.”

  She spared him a glance. “What?”

  Licking his lips, he shook his head and lowered his voice. “Do you always moan like that when you eat donuts? Honestly, I’m a little jealous of whatever it’s doing to you.”

  Her cheeks colored. “No, it’s just so good. But thanks to you, now I can’t finish it.” She placed the remains on her napkin.

  “Oh, don’t mind me. I actually can’t wait for you to finish it.” He leaned back in his chair, laughing when she covered her face. “Congratulations, by the way, you’ve reduced me to being turned on by a fucking donut. I wonder if I have some weird food fetish I don’t know about?”

  Her face resembled the red basket centered on the table.

  “I’m taking it you won’t ever eat a donut around me again.”

  She shook her head. “Never.”

  Jordan spotted Brandon in dark denim jeans and a black T-shirt, walking with his friends on the pavement that paralleled the shoreline. It was just before sunset, and the glow from the summer’s sun warmed them.

  Adrianna grabbed her hand and pulled her along in a jog up to Brandon and his friends. Everything was an excitement with her, and she was doing much better than last week. Brandon also seemed to be doing better. The beard he’d sported days ago was gone, and beard or no beard, he was still a sight to behold.

  After hugging Adrianna, Brandon pulled Jordan into his arms. It had to be wrong how much she treasured the way he smelled, and the perfect way his warm, muscular body seemed to fit to hers.

  He’d invited her and her friends to a concert in the park he was attending with his friends, even suggesting she bring along Greg, the smart nurse intern her mother had introduced her to. But there was no way she would have invited him. They’d only been on one date, and it had gone just okay—which was good. She needed a break from the whirlwind of emotions Brandon created in her, just by existing.

  Sam advanced with her boyfriend, Jay. He was about the same height as Brandon, but with olive skin and short, light brown hair.

  “Hi, Brandon. This is Jay. Jay, this is Brandon, Andrew, and—I’m sorry, we haven’t met,” Sam said, extending her hand to Sarah.

  “I’m Sarah, Andrew’s girlfriend, and this is Stephanie, Brandon’s date.”

  Jordan’s lungs constricted. He’d never mentioned anything about a Stephanie, and she was gorgeous—all petite and perfect with long, pin-straight, blonde hair and blue eyes. Apparently being a womanizer meant he had to tell each girl how perfect she was for him. Like how he’d told her skinny girls weren’t for him, yet here he was. So this was why he’d wanted her to bring Greg. He’d moved on and wanted to ensure she was doing the same.

  “Not awkwwwaaard,” Andrew sang before Sarah elbowed him. “Sorry, I’m a little high. Anyway, we have some left. Who’s down and wants to get up?”

  “Now you’re talking. So down!” Adrianna rejoiced. “Jo, I will fight you if you say no.”

  “Now, Adrianna, we’re not trying to pressure anyone,” Andrew said with a laugh. “If you smoke, awesome, and if you don’t, well, it’s cool. No judgment.” He laughed, causing Jordan to smile at his goofiness.

  “Yeah, screw it,” she said, averting her eyes and hugging herself. She ambled along the pavement in skinny jeans, boots, and an oversized blouse—enough layers to keep the brisk evening’s breeze at bay. She would pout about having to share Brandon with Stephanie later. For now, it was about the salt in the air, the sun setting on the horizon, music in the distance, and people hustling to get their bonfires underway.

  For half an hour, they walked, smoked, and mused about random things. By the time they turned around and headed back for the concert, lights were pouring from windows of the small shops on the street and glimmering from the pier ahead. It was amazing how quickly the darkness took over after the sunset.

  “I don’t know how people can go in the water at night,” Jordan mused. “Anything could just drag you away.”

  Brandon pranced in front of her and hoisted her over his shoulder, distracting her from the thoughts she’d been working to set aside.

  “Let’s go for a night swim,” he hooted, running toward the water.

  Gripped by panic, she couldn’t think, breathe, or speak.

  “Brandon!” Adrianna yelled.

  The hairs on her neck and arms stood, and her voice quivered, “Brandon.”

  Nausea. Tremors.

  “It’s just water,” he yelled.

  The waves crashed at his feet, and memories of her father and brother’s disappearance collided with the blood rushing to her head. She stiffened and pulled at his shirt. Grabbing her waist, he eased her to her feet and held her steady.

  “Are you okay? I’m sorry. It was a joke.” The dusk had grown thicker, so she wasn’t sure how Brandon had sensed her fear, but she heard the concern in his voice.

  Damn this stupid phobia. She wasn’t the one who’d disappeared, and she hadn’t even been at the scene of the accident until hours later.

  The pulsing in her ears lessened as he lifted her chin. “Jordan, say something.”

  Using her hand to remove his fingers, she murmured, “Don’t do that again” and walked off.

  “I said I’m sorry!” he yelled after her.

  “Aw, come here. Did he scare you?” Adrianna asked, hugging Jordan. “She has a paranoid thing about bodies of water at night. That was a jerky thing to do.”

  “I didn’t know. Now I do feel like a jerk,” Brandon said.

  “At least you admit it,” Sarah said.

>   “He was just having some fun. I wouldn’t have minded,” Stephanie said.

  Jordan flinched as something pressed on her heart.

  “Wow, she defends him. She sounds like a keeper, dude.” Andrew put his arm around Sarah’s waist.

  “Yeah, well, most are still voting for Brandon being a jerk,” Adrianna said.

  “Definitely,” Sam agreed.

  “Thanks, guys, I appreciate the honesty.” Brandon kicked at the sand as he walked.

  Brandon wasn’t in her line of vision as the band played, but Jordan could sense his unhappiness. She didn’t want him to feel bad about what had happened at the beach—he hadn’t known about her weird phobia. But it was hard to find the words to defend him without sounding like Stephanie, the girl who had the right to defend him.

  Jordan rocked back and forth to the music, and when she twirled around with Adrianna, she spotted Brandon staring at her.

  “How long will you be mad at me?” he asked, following her and her friends to purchase food for those securing their spot in the grass. “I said I’m sorry.”

  “You’re forgiven,” Jordan replied.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Why not? It’s true. Also, I may have forgiven you, but I don’t know if your girlfriend will forgive you that easily if you keep running off with me.”

  He pursed his lips. “I’m just checking to make sure you’re okay after I freaked you out. I said I understood you, but you’re confusing me now. First, you hate the asshole, and now you hate the gentleman who checks on you.”

  “I don’t hate you.” It was the furthest thing from her mind; the closest was the fact that he hadn’t denied Stephanie being his girlfriend.

  She reached for the items from the food truck server at the same time Brandon did, and his hand brushed hers, causing her skin to tingle all over. She looked at him and saw the unspoken emotions as his eyes lowered to her lips. Lust resurfaced as she recalled how soft and expressive his mouth was. Dammit, Jordan. He’s a womanizer. Don’t let him get inside your head.