Fire In The Water

by Janice Ross

  After we’d tried to maneuver around what must’ve been the entire city, we gave up and headed to a local pub for drinks. Everything was in walking distance, and I was thankful I’d chosen to wear flat shoes.

  The night was silent for the most part. Even the trees barely moved. The sky was drab as well, giving me the perception that everything underneath knew this was a big step for me. I was out and living. I shook my head.

  "You good, girl?" Mal asked, taking hold of my finger and shaking my hands a few times.

  "Yeah, just seems surreal." Just then a single teardrop raced down my cheek without warning. I’d just stepped underneath a streetlight and Mal must’ve seen it, so with her other hand she wiped it away.

  "I know, Chanel. This is a good thing, c’mon." She let go and raced ahead of me. I followed, maintaining a light trot. She waited until I’d gotten to the foot of the steps before pulling on the door to the bar. Thoughtful lyrics played in the background, a serious contrast to the deep bass from the house party. I welcomed the change.

  The lights were dim and everyone was more concerned with getting their drink on. There were a couple familiar faces, possibly even more than that, but I tried to keep my head low. Mallory was the loud, outgoing one. She had the ability to draw attention everywhere. And quite literally, she worked the room like it was her place or job. Two seats quickly opened up at the bar and two glasses with fruity liquor were placed on two napkins right before us.

  As I sat on the stool, Mal turned me to face her and winked. "Any complaints so far?"

  Don’t get me wrong, this was all fine and good, but I was only twenty-five and still unable to hold my liquor. Mallory was twenty-six and every bit the pro. In that instant, she read my mind and flashed a tongue across her lips. I shook my head and reached for the glass.

  "Fate," a male voice whispered in my ear. I nearly spilled the drink on my legs. Luckily, I’d swung them open and returned the glass to the countertop. When I turned around to look up, there was Rhys.

  "Oh, hi…" I didn’t know what to say, and could only imagine that I’d turned beet red. I’d literally run out on him and broke down outside. I thought to apologize, but wasn’t sure if that would help matters any because I’d made a fool out of myself.

  "Am I disturbing you?"

  "As in your stalker tendencies?"

  Mallory started clearing her throat. Any normal person clearing their throat would’ve faded into the background, especially with the music playing. Not my friend. She enjoyed being extra.

  "Rhys, this is my girlfriend, Mallory."

  His eyebrows rose.

  "Clarification. Girlfriend as in BFF. Nice to meet you, Rhys." And without another word to me, Mallory rushed Rhys into her seat and breezed away. She winked as before, gave me her back, and disappeared further into the pub. I grabbed my drink and took another sip.

  "I’m not entirely sure of what just happened. Please excuse my friend. She’s a little overeager. You don’t have to feel obligated to keep my company." I wasn’t sure if Rhys had only come up to say hi or just check on me, especially after all that had transpired earlier. Shifting forward, I tried to wish him away but every time I inhaled, I was reminded of his alluring scent. And staring straight ahead didn't help since there was a mirror. I could close my eyes, but who the hell went to a bar to sit with their eyes closed?

  "How about I want to sit here, Chanel?" His words were whispered into my ear. For me, right then and there, everyone else faded. There was only Rhys, the doom of sappy songs coming through the distant speaker and me.

  I trailed my fingers around the rim of my glass before leaning forward to claim another sip of mango mojito. I reinforced the vulnerabilities of being near this guy who happened to conveniently find me on occasion. He made me weaker for all the wrong reasons.

  Weak.

  That word was capable of tearing apart my insides. I dreaded the emotion. Too many others had suffered for the sake of this four-letter curse.

  I studied the thoughts racing through my mind, but nothing took root until a familiar scent stepped in. Two hands rested on my shoulders. I inhaled, then spun on the stool and reached up for Rhys' hand at the same time. While I pictured my massive grin, his lips formed a slight frown. For a couple seconds, the laughter and intrusive surroundings became unimportant.

  Rhys tipped his head forward. His fingers mated with mine. He squeezed in a way that wasn’t quite reserved for strangers.

  "Come here?" He quickly bent down to whisper in my ear. "At least a quiet section."

  I followed his lead, suddenly having no problem with being led, but then remembered my drink. After tipping back over to collect it, I rejoined Rhys in a two-seater booth, way in the back portion of the bar.

  He drummed his fingers on the heavy, rich brown wooden table. Nearby, a hanging stained glass lamp rained circular lights down onto his face. As I studied the collage, a sort of heaviness blanketed me. It was too quiet.

  "Today, umm–" I cut the sentence short since my thoughts fell short of anything real. Honestly, this guy brought me alive, but I felt so damn wrong by allowing him to do so.

  "What’s wrong, Chanel?"

  "What's wrong with you, Rhys? I can't imagine we keep running into each other on account of coincidence."

  He shrugged, removing a pitch-black jacket in the process.

  "Talk to me," I begged.

  "I got your information from your co-worker."

  I stopped breathing in that moment. After five seconds and no movement from either of us, I finally nodded.

  "Um, stalker..." My subconscious screamed to move, run fast and far without looking back. My body, on the other hand, refused to let up.

  "I don't know what it is to come after someone like this."

  "So all along, you've been searching me out?" If he said yes, I pleaded with my limbs to get up and leave.

  "No, just this once. I promise."

  "Why me?"

  "Why not?"

  "Perhaps it's some weird fetish you have for black girls."

  "Seriously?"

  "Yes, Rhys. What other reason could there be?"

  "I stumbled when we first met. Your overall appearance blew me away. You piqued my interest."

  "Yet after three years–"

  "Destiny brought us full circle, Chanel."

  I zoned out the moment his tongue caressed my name.

  Inhale...exhale. I kept a steady pattern. Images of our meetings played before me. Rhys' words zoned out. All the while, as I'd been saving myself for another guy, this one in front of me had been holding out hope. In the past, there was no possibility. Yet here we were, facing something wide open for interpretation. No way was it this simple, not with me being a wreck of a woman.

  "Are you listening to me?" Rhys lifted my hand from the table. He encased it between his palms.

  All I could do was nod, and then breathe in and breathe out. The walls swarmed around. Everything stifled.

  "Honestly, it's kinda difficult to hold a conversation inside here. Come outside with me?"

  For all the bravery and disconnection I tried to put up, I moved. I unwrapped my fingers from the huge glass and allowed Rhys to escort me to the exit. His hand draped around my waist, resting leisurely on the upper portion of my hip. Our aim was straight ahead and my heartbeat seemed to stutter with each step until he reached out and pushed the front door open. I could've exploded just then as if that had been my rise to a climax and ultimate unraveling. As we stood outdoors, the fluttering remained. Together, we stepped down to the sidewalk, and eventually ended up standing outside of the walkway, directly in the middle of the path. It gave the impression that no one else existed. Sure we could hear the chatter and all from inside, even cars that drove by every couple of seconds, but Rhys held me. I forgot who I was, even briefly. My heartache subsided and past loves lessened. They did not disappear, but instead became bearable.

  "Are you okay, Chanel?"

  "Ye-yeah," was the best I co
uld do in this semi-numbing state.

  "Tell me this isn’t fate."

  "Ummm, maybe you are a stalker." I extended my index finger like it made a big difference that I was pointing towards him, as if it really mattered. That unplanned movement only showed my nerves, perhaps inexperience, when my fingers shook. I quickly drew them back, tucking my hands beneath my arms.

  "Maybe."

  I wasn't expecting that response.

  "Why are you here?"

  "To see you."

  "Did you know I’d be here? I only made the decision after my friend pressured–"

  "Chanel, are you dating someone?"

  There it was. I should've known the question was coming at some point. I dreaded the thought. If I said no, which happened to be the truth, I wasn't sure what that would mean for us. But if I said yes, I'd be right back where I started, which was how I'd been since losing Zach. Did I continue to deny my future like everyone accused me of doing, or did I force myself to move on?

  I pressed my lips together, nibbling gently on the insides.

  Even before I was able to formulate a smart ass reply to shut down his persistence, Rhys kissed me. Those perfect lips that I'd been lusting over pressed sweetly onto mine. I fought his advance for about two seconds flat before I gave in. Rhys' hands gripped the sides of my face while my hands instinctively reached up to his untamed mane. I pulled him deep into my space, my face, and my world, even parting my lips at the command of his tongue. It easily glided inside of my mouth and I sucked on this wet member. I almost forgot what it felt like to get lost in something as simple as a kiss. Yet, outside of Red’s Pub late on a Friday night with no one but the man in the moon to oversee our greed, I simply wouldn't deny this need. And when I thought it impossible to be drawn in by the magic of this little known guy, his arms drifted lower as he secured my placement against his chest.

  To see him was one thing, but to be plastered against his body to the extent that I felt the thud, thud, thudding of his heartbeat was heavenly.

  His tongue thrashed onto mine. Not wanting to back down or deny his forceful command, I thrust mine against his. Our greed was equally urgent with neither one caring to move away from the other. His groin filled out, growing urgently and rubbing my front. I wanted Rhys and I was damn sure he wanted me.

  Not entirely sure how, he pulled away by a handful of inches though remaining close enough for his breath to tickle the tip of my nose. His air was a tangy mixture of mint and something unfamiliar, yet his essence was a crisp, wild flavor I could just about taste and suckle.

  "Can we go somewhere?" Rhys' question hung in the night.

  Did I want to "go somewhere," and with him? Just earlier today, I'd been holding desperately to me. I'd kept focused on this life of mine that did not include going somewhere with anyone. And all of a sudden, life had shifted so much that I was now semi-making out with a random guy.

  "I-I can't." And I wouldn’t. But even as I rejected Rhys, my hands stretched further behind his head. I twirled my fingertips around his hair and yanked, drawing him back to his previous spot in my face. I spread my lips to taste his moisture, suddenly needing this nectar.

  Rhys' hands reclaimed their march up and down my sides. With each rub, I pressed closer into him. My limbs grew soft, my female part became moistened, and my very core churned with an urgency I might not had felt before this night. But then, I felt a vibration at my lower abdomen. My initial thought was to ignore it since I actually felt warmer, but then I realized it was his cellphone. He almost leapt clear into the streets as he reached down into his left side pocket and pulled out the device. I heard his greeting and could've sworn I heard a loud female voice trailing along the wind.

  Just then, the door to the pub flew open and several couples stepped outside. The blare of the tunes reminded me of why I’d agreed to come out. Everyone was either laughing or giggling. I made subtle attempts to shift my focus from lusting over Rhys. They even passed between us, saying excuse me with nearly every step. I couldn't hear Rhys clearly by this point, though I did catch a glimpse of his fingers holding the phone next to his ear. Perhaps he had a girlfriend, but would he really be standing out here, in front of a bar, and kissing me so passionately? Unless the girlfriend was far away, in which case, I wanted nothing to do with him. Heck, if there was a girlfriend, period, I couldn’t allow this to go further.

  My experience with relationships wasn’t vast, but I’d had a good man. Zachary hadn’t been any type of snake, and I sure as heck wasn’t gonna get caught up with one now. I shifted my head towards the entrance, then turned for the curb. If I were to go back inside, I might somehow get trapped with my girl, and that might cause another episode with Rhys’ delectable lips. I needed to hit the pavement and take the ten-minute walk home. I’d just be sure to text Mal with my whereabouts.

  My heart sped up as I practically latched onto one of the customers on their way out. They were too zooted up to notice my ploy. I even went so far as to move beyond each as they spread out towards their destinations.

  I knew I was too old for this crap, but what else could I do?

  The air was rigid and fresh. Part of me longed to take in the masculine scent Rhys sprouted like gold, but I knew better than to go back. I even knew better than to turn around to even glance in his direction. By the time I found myself in the lonely trek for my place, I concentrated on my boots’ shuffle along the pavement. I took smaller steps to start out with and then wider, quicker lunges. To an observer, I must've resembled a complete idiot. But there was a method to my madness. I needed to get away from those lips of Rhys'. I needed to forget how scrumptious his tongue tasted against mine. And I needed to take in the night air and flush out the still potent scent of his essence as it mingled with mine.

  XXVI.

  Rhys

  ~

  Running is one of those things you just fall into. Seriously though, I've always been health conscious and more than mildly obsessed with my physique. I wouldn't entirely call it arrogance, though I'd be the first to admit I'm overly comfortable in my skin.

  It was three-thirty in the morning on a frigid Saturday in October. Over the past couple of weeks, my mornings had become harder to get started. I typically gave myself 5-10 minutes to clear my mind before jumping into meditation mode, but it was kinda difficult to clear it all the way today. Instead, I propped up just enough to hit the headboard, spread my arms to the sides, bent my elbows, and tucked my forearms behind my neck. The room was still dark and I preferred it that way until I had adjusted fully.

  When I'd decided to step into corporate America, I had to cut a lot of unnecessary drama from my life. Juggling my studies at the time and a competitive lifestyle had been no easy task, but on days like this, I wished there was more. I'd learned to allot myself just enough rope for the enjoyment, yet barely less than needed to handle myself.

  My discussion with Chanel the previous day and even our chat inside the bar and outside under the moon was nothing compared to what had taken place inside my office. My tongue inadvertently passed across my lips during this time of reflection. I regretted where my contemplating shifted the minute my flesh tilted up to throb at the navy blue sheet.

  I hardly ever slept in clothes, and has been that way since I'd hit puberty. I’d turned twenty-six this past February, so I doubted that habit would ever get broken. Moreover, there were alleged benefits to bypassing clothes, though I did it to be free. Period.

  I took several deep breaths, threw off the blanket and hopped off the mattress. Cool air wrapped around my body. I shivered, even though I still felt warm and horny.

  Tap. Tap.

  Oh, Prissy.

  I shook my head, yet still couldn’t help but laugh. I honestly believed I’d worn her ass out yesterday. I guess she was a glutton for punishment. As a matter of fact, if we got honest about things, Prissy didn’t care about running with me in the morning.

  After pulling my hands through my hair from front to back, I d
idn’t bother to stop for clothes. Just like that, I made the four-foot march as the second round of taps began. I yanked the door open.

  "Rhhhys…" Prissy’s mouth hung low and wide. Her eyes roamed from one side to the next, up to down. She couldn’t seem to decide on a place to settle.

  "You can come in and wait while I get dressed," I offered.

  I’d just finished the sentence when she moved across the threshold like this was a job. For my part, I moved slower than usual, gathering my items as the norm, yet this time I approached the task one at a time. I couldn’t help but be a rotten bastard. What could I say? I was about a second away from giving her the best of me just then, though Chanel remained on my mind. Even the hunger in her kiss still rode my lips. I could even taste her sweetness.

  Was I hard enough to give it to Prissy on a cold fall morning, just for the sake of getting it off? Perhaps…

  Would I actually do it…especially now?

  I didn’t even get a chance to consider the question beyond it formulating in my mind when Prissy walked over to me. She couldn’t have been more than five-five. Her clothes were a similar attire as the previous day, except that today’s were navy blue. She appeared to be the aggressor and even tried to come across as the alpha in the room. I had just finished pulling on my boxers, and that was specifically where she first sought.

  I expanded my legs, allowing her to reach down into my boxers. Make no mistake, my package might’ve been covered but that didn’t mask its strength.

  "So this wasn’t about wanting to run with me," I teased while Prissy massaged the entire length of my shaft. It was odd to say the least. Chanel's presence remained fresh in my mind, but her constant rejection clung on too.

  The room was lit to the fullest. Prissy's eyes almost seemed to have grown fuller; hooded innocence with a sprinkle of wickedness. While her right hand continued to grope the parcel inside of my underwear, she placed her left hand beneath my right nipple and traced an outline along a tattoo I’d gotten on my eighteenth birthday. It ran over the left side, my heart, up through my shoulder and down my arm.