“Ladies,” I say with a nod, forcing my lips to curve upward. All three women say hello, giggling in a way that makes my skin crawl in irritation. Focusing my attention on the blonde, I say, “Would you like to dance?”
She nods her head as she stands to her feet, smirking at her friends in triumph. Placing my hand on her lower back, I lead her to the floor, being sure to position us where Lizzy will be able to get a good view.
Placing my hands on her hips, I pull her into my body, allowing her hands to roam freely as we move to the music. When I finally work up the nerve to take a glance at Lizzy, her beer is tipped up, her throat moving quickly as she chugs it, and guilt consumes me. She only came because I asked her to, and I’m being an asshole—all because my feelings and pride were hurt. I’ve been trying to push her into something she’s told me over and over again she isn’t ready for.
“So, what’s your name?” the blonde asks, prying my attention from Lizzy and back to her.
“Does it really fucking matter?” I retort, a sharp bite in my tone as I press my body harder into hers.
She shrugs, her mouth twisting and hands roaming again. Clinching my jaw I look back over to see Lizzy, but she isn’t there. My pulse begins to race as I search the bar for any sign of her. Pushing the woman away from me, I rush back over to the table where I left Lizzy as Jon and Allison walk up.
“Did you see her?” I ask them, turning circles as I continue my frantic search.
“I saw her heading for the door,” Allison replies without meeting my eyes.
“What?” I snap, ice running through my veins and my chest tightening. I reach in my pocket, pull my phone out to call her, and see a message.
Lizzy: Not feeling well. Taking a cab home. Enjoy the rest of your night. Happy Birthday.
“She left!” I roar, taking a step toward Allison, my blood pumping and chest heaving. “What the fuck did you say to her?”
Allison cowers away from me as Jon steps in between us, placing a hand on my chest to keep me back. “Back off, Bren. She was only trying to look out for you.”
“Yeah,” I scoff, pushing his hand off me as I distance myself from them. “Thanks a fucking lot.”
Shaking my head, I head toward the door, calling Lizzy as I go.
Dreams and Remorse
“Just tell me you want me, beautiful. That’s all you have to do,” he whispers into my ear as he pulls my body flush with his, shooting electricity through every single nerve-ending. I do want him. I want him so badly, I ache for his touch, but when I move my mouth to tell him, nothing comes out.
He nibbles at my ear before making a trail of light, breathy kisses down and then back up my neck. Pressing his hardness into my body, he whispers in my ear again, “Can you feel how badly I want you? Don’t you want me, Lizzy?” He runs his hand up my inner thigh, savoring every inch. “Don’t you want me to touch you?” he asks as his hand makes its way to my center. “Don’t you want to feel me?” I do. I want all these things and more. I try again to tell him, but I still can’t speak.
“You have to tell me, beautiful.” His voice is almost pleading now as his cloudy grey eyes meet mine, the hopelessness in them causing my chest to tighten.
Sheer panic courses through me when he begins to release me, feelinginstantly colder from the loss of his touch. My desperation for him to stay grows as he increases the space between us. Still unable to make a sound or form any words, I try to reach for him, but there’s a heaviness keeping me from moving. While I continue struggling to break free from whatever is holding me back, he disappears, leaving me alone, cold, and scared.
“What do you think the dream means?” Dr. Gentry asks, earning an immature eye roll from me as I let out an exasperated sigh.
I’m already regretting telling her about the damn dream. It was stupid of me to think she would be able to offer me some insight here. Instead, I’m getting her normal bullshit of questions in lieu of answers.
“I don’t know,” I answer, waving my hands before dramatically dropping them back in my lap. “I suppose the obvious answer would be I desire him...sexually.” A fire burns through my chest as the shame for admitting that out loud sinks in. My eyes move to focus on the cage by the window, watching the white birds play, their constant chirping distracting me from the pain.
“I don’t think you need a dream to tell you that, Lizzy,” Dr. Gentry replies, a hint of humor in her tone. “And there’s nothing wrong with you being attracted to someone. What I want you to focus on now are the other aspects of the dream.”
She shifts in her chair as my gaze returns to her, her eyebrows lifting in expectation. “What do you mean?”
“You said you couldn’t speak or move.” She looks down, checking her notes. “Your exact words were, ‘it felt like something was holding me back’. What do you think was holding you back? What do you think that means?” she asks, placing her notepad in her lap before crossing her arms so she can rest her chin on her hand.
“I don’t know!” I groan, my voice rising as I plant my head in my hands, shaking it in frustration before lifting it again. “If I knew, I probably wouldn’t be here talking to you about it.”
She stares at me for a moment, unfazed by my rudeness. “When was the last time you saw Brenden?”
“A week and a half ago,” I answer truthfully, even though I’m dreading having to talk about what happened.
“And have you spoken to him since?”
“Not really,” I answer, a little less honest this time as I avert my eyes to my hand and begin picking at my nail polish.
I’ve been avoiding him since I left the bar the night of his birthday, embarrassed and ashamed over the way I acted. It was stupid for me to leave the way I did and I’m not exactly sure what happened. Anger coursed through my veins as I watched him with that random woman, and in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to punch him in the face.
I considered several possibilities to my reaction during my ride home, telling myself I was only angry for him, not at him—that it was merely because I thought he was better than hooking up with some random woman at a bar. In the end, I couldn’t even convince myself of that lie. I’d been jealous and maybe even hurt watching Brenden with that woman and I bolted because the intensity behind those feelings scared the hell out of me.
“I thought the two of you spoke daily? Has something changed? Did something happen?” she asks, leaning forward.
Her question doesn’t surprise me, but it doesn’t make it any easier to answer it. Taking a deep breath, I allow my eyes to wander around the small, poorly lit room again. Focusing on a framed picture of The Beatles playing live, I wonder if she took the picture herself as I gather the courage to tell her what happened.
Keeping my gaze on anything but her, I recount the events leading up to my departure that night and how I’ve been handling things since.
He called me before I even made it home that night, but I sent it to voicemail, and he’s tried reaching out every night at our regular time since. I haven’t answered or responded to any of them. I’m an asshole and a coward. He only danced with that woman because of what I said about our friendship. I’m not supposed to care about who he does or doesn’t dance with. I’m the one who keeps telling him there will never be anything else between us.
Once I finish, I fix my stare back on her. As expected, her face is expressionless—no frown or narrowed eyes giving away her thoughts on the matter.
“I see,” she replies as she scribbles away on her notepad. “How has not speaking to him been? Do you miss it? Do you miss him?”
Do I miss Brenden?
“Yes,” I sigh, knowing the answer before even considering the question. He’s been such a strong presence in my life recently, it’s hard not to miss him.
“Then call him. Maybe if you stop letting things hold you back in life, they will stop holding you back in your dreams.” My stomach churns, feeling anxious just from the thought of calling Brenden. I chew on my
lip, thinking about what I’d say or how he’d react, my fear trying to convince me he won’t want to speak to me. Dr. Gentry continues to stare expectantly and I nod my head to appease her, knowing I’m going to chicken out. “Who knows? Maybe next time you dream about him, you’ll get a happy ending,” she adds with a wink.
“Hey, it’s me again,” I say, sighing into the phone, wondering why I continue to hope she’ll answer my call, or why I keep calling in the first place. You’d think I would’ve taken the hint by now. “Would you please call me back so we can talk?”
A noise behind me startles me and I disconnect the call, turning toward it.
“Does that mean you’re still mad at me?” Allison asks, standing in my bedroom doorway. I internally groan. Everything is such a mess at the moment and I don’t know how, or if, I can fix it. I’m not even pissed at Allison—I’m pissed at myself, but letting her believe I’m angry at her is easier than having to talk about what happened.
I acted like a complete jackass and don’t blame Lizzy for being so pissed—but fuck, how do I apologize if she won’t answer her goddamn phone? If I knew where she lived, I would have already showed up at her house, begging her to forgive me.
I don’t answer Allison, at least not verbally, letting my crossed arms and twisted mouth do it for me.
“Come on, Bren. I’ve said I’m sorry like a hundred times. What can I do to fix this? You want me to call her? I’ll do anything,” she pleads, taking a timid step into my room.
“All right, fine. Tell me what’s going on with you and Jon—what had your panties in such a bunch that it caused you to run your mouth in the first place—then I might consider your apology,” I retort, giving her a pointed look.
It’s low of me to use her apology to my advantage, but neither of them are talking when it’s obvious something big went down. After years of being in the middle of their strange little relationship, they’re shutting me out and I don’t get it.
“That isn’t fair,” she whines, looking to the floor as she sighs.
“Yeah? You know what else isn’t fair? You taking your crap out on Lizzy. She didn’t deserve that and now she won’t even talk to me,” I growl, running my hands through my hair.
“I know! And I’m sorry it came out like that,” she says, meeting my eyes again, guilt ripping through me as I take in the sorrow in her eyes. “But I still think it needed to be said. You’re developing feelings for her. It’s obvious.”
“So what if I am? How is that any of your business?”
“Because I care about you. I’ve never seen you like this. I’m happy for you, but I’m also worried about you.”
She takes a step toward me, but stops in her tracks when my voice comes out booming.
“Worried about me? Why? Because I’m getting to spend my time with a beautiful, smart, funny woman?”
“No,” she answers, her voice desperate as she shakes her head. “I’m worried you’re finally going to fall in love and it will end badly. I don’t want you to end up closed off to the idea of love forever.”
Allison’s use of the word “love” sends my heart flying into my ribcage, my breath catching in my throat.
Am I falling in love with Lizzy? I honestly don’t know. I don’t know what it feels like. Before I met her, I wouldn’t have considered love a possibility, but I don’t even feel like that person anymore, nor do I want to be. As crazy as it seems, she’s had a huge impact on me in such a small amount of time. Deep down, I know the fear isn’t about whether I’m falling for her; it’s about whether she’ll ever love me in return.
“You know what?” I grit out, throwing my hands up. “I’m not worried about what feelings she and I may or may not have down the road. None of us know what tomorrow will bring—hell, there may not even be a tomorrow. But I do know Lizzy is amazing and I like spending time with her. I think I’ve been good for her, and I’m positive she’s been good for me. I’m not going to miss out on today by worrying about tomorrow.”
OfficIal Stalker
“Have you called him yet?” Julianna asks after we down another shot of Patron.
Still holding my breath, I shake my head. My mouth puckers as the liquor runs down my throat, burning and souring my stomach as soon as it hits. I’d sworn off tequila in college after an awful experience—learning the one tequila, two tequila, three tequila, floor rule the hard way. I’d been sicker than I’d ever been in my life that night, sleeping on the bathroom floor and waking up to take my finals the next morning. The memory of the way the smell seeped out of my pours all day will forever haunt me. But Julianna needs her friend by her side, and for the moment, that means doing shots with her. “No…I don’t know what to say. Anyway, you need me right now.”
When she called me the other day to tell me she found her husband cheating on her, I was floored. She uprooted her whole life for that asshole, moved away from all her family and friends to be with him, and then helped him get his practice off the ground. He owes her so much, and he repaid that debt by sleeping with someone else in their bed.
Being desperate to get away from him as soon as possible, and having nowhere to go, I told her to come back home—that she could live with me until she got settled with a job and a place of her own. She isn’t thrilled with the idea of being back in Tennessee, but she agreed it’s the best place for her right now.
“Oh bullshit, Lizzy. You can’t use me as your excuse. I just got here and you haven’t spoken to him in two weeks. Why don’t you just sleep with him and get it out of the way?” she teases, chuckling as she winks at me.
After she told me she would be arriving today, I made plans for us to go out for a drink, arranging for the kids to stay with my parents for the weekend in case she needed some time to adjust. I intended on her being the one doing all the talking and only told her about Brenden as a way to get her to open up to me, but she’s refused to drop the subject.
“Funny,” I murmur, shaking my head as I try to banish visions of my dream about Brenden. “I’m going to go get us some more shots. Do you need another beer?”
“Yes, please,” she answers, finishing off the one on the table as I walk away.
I make my way through the crowded bar, my mind drifting to the last time I came to Zane’s with Julianna. Everything around me fades as I remember being in Brenden’s arms and swaying to the music. He made me feel safe and content, even back then, and he’s proven himself to be a good friend since. I’m a real dumbass for the throwing that away.
After ordering another round of shots and beer at the bar, my phone vibrates in my back pocket. I take it out and my heart leaps into my throat when I see it’s Brenden calling again. Feeling like a complete shit, I stare at the screen, my hands shaking as my thumb hovers over the answer key. My self-doubt rears its ugly head and I end up ignoring his call before putting it back in my pocket.
“So, you are ignoring me,” Brenden says, his smell washing over me as his breath tickles the back of my neck.
He’s so close, I can feel the heat from his body. Flashes of my dream resurface as a shiver runs down my spine and my breath catches in my throat. Closing my eyes, I sigh, embarrassed by the inappropriate images clogging my thoughts and that he witnessed my cowardly behavior firsthand. When I don’t turn around to face him, he comes up beside me at the bar.
“You know, if you don’t want to be found, you should probably tell your friend to stop posting your whereabouts on Facebook. It just gives people like me the ability to stalk you. Since this makes twice, I think I may officially be your stalker,” he mocks, leaning onto the bar as one side of his mouth tips up into a smile.
The familiar ease I feel around him relaxes my body and quiets my mind. I laugh, turning to face him.
“Wow, really? I’ve never had a stalker before,” I retort, my heart stopping for a beat when our eyes finally meet.
“I wasn’t really given a choice,” he sneers, his features darkening a bit.
Guilt twists my stomach
and embarrassment heats my face as my eyes fall back to the bar where the drinks I ordered are now waiting. Fiddling with the tray, I try to think of a good way to apologize for my behavior, but before I have a chance to speak, Brenden places his hand on my arm, bringing my attention back to him.
“I’m—” He runs his hands through his hair, locking his pain-filled eyes on mine. “God, I’m so sorry I acted like an ass the other night. It’s been killing me that you’ve been upset with me.”
His words make my chest ache. The fact that he’s been blaming himself makes me feel even more like a shit human being. I acted like a jealous girlfriend, which I have absolutely no right to do, and then ignored him. He shouldn’t be the one apologizing.
“No...” I reply, shaking my head. Smiling, I rest my hand on his bicep—partly to reassure him and partly to feed my desire to touch him. “I’m not upset with you.”
“You’re not?” he asks, his eyes narrowing as his shoulders rise. “Then why have you been ignoring me?”
“I, uh...” my brain scrambles to think of an explanation as my hand drops back to my side—preferably one that doesn’t include jealousy or sex dreams, “things have been a little crazy,” I lie. “You see, my friend Julianna...she just found out her husband was cheating on her and moved back here. I’ve offered to let her live with me for a while and I guess I’ve just been overwhelmed with trying to be there for her. I’m sorry.”
My breathing is heavier by the time I finish my explanation and I hope some truth mixed in with my lie will make it seem more believable, but it certainly doesn’t keep me from feeling downright rotten. He continues to regard me, his eyes searching my face as though it holds a clue to the things I’m not saying.
In This Moment (In This Moment #1) Page 14