Eluding Fate

by Delilah Mohan

  Victoria looked between us, questions in her eyes, but she wasn’t brave enough to ask. “Um, just for you to sign a few papers.”

  “I’ll be down in a minute.” She nodded, then left us, like she knew for once not to push me.

  Leaning over one more time I placed another kiss on Mari’s lips, slower than the first, but I was hoping to convey just what I couldn’t put into words. Our lips tangled for another minute before I finally pulled away. Knowing that if I didn’t leave now, I might not ever pull away and I couldn’t have Victoria searching for me again. Resting my forehead against hers, I sighed my frustrations.

  Her tongue came out and slowly licked her lips. Her voice, hoarse with the emotion of what just passed between us, was so soft, I almost didn’t hear her words. “What are we doing, Spencer?”

  Without pulling away, I looked into her eyes and gave her the only real truth I had, “I’m not sure if I know, but I want to find out.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Mari

  What are we doing? The question played on repeat, like a never-ending loop since the moment his lips first touched mine. I didn’t know the answer. I wasn’t sure if there really was an answer at this point. I was drowning, no . . . I was learning to swim, flying . . . or was I free-falling?

  I was out of my league with this. Not just out of my league, but in a whole different ballpark. Was there a manual out there for a frumpy girl who kissed the city’s most eligible bachelor on the rooftop of their apartment building? Was there a chapter dedicated to the hunk being neighbors and by all other accounts, really close friends? Because if there was, I need this book and fast. I’d skip the intro chapters and go straight to the one that was dedicated to walking me through my issues.

  It had only been a few days since he kissed me; since I kissed him back. Nothing on a regular level had changed. He still came over, eating Chinese out of the carton on my couch. He still showed up at Jolts at seven fifty in the morning, buying my coffee and sneaking me pastries. He counted his minutes and looked at the clock, only now, his minutes included me. Every second we had now was full of stolen kisses and sweet secret moments, and I wanted to believe it could mean something more, but with no definition, I was terrified to get my hopes up.

  I was sitting at my desk, trying to catch up on some missed chapters I was lagging on writing when Spencer walked in. He was freshly showered, most likely he came fresh from the gym, but that didn’t stop him from going straight to my freezer and grabbing ice cream. He took two spoons from the drawer before coming into the living room, sneaking over to me to kiss my cheek, then plopping down on the couch.

  “Evening, Bookworm.” He tossed the carton’s lid onto the coffee table and dug in with his spoon.

  “What if I told you, you could actually buy your own ice cream and keep it in your own freezer?” I got out of my chair, reaching for the spoon he held out to me. Plucking it from his fingers, I plopped down in the space next to him, dipping my own spoon into the ice cream.

  “No, I can’t. If I buy ice cream, Victoria consumes it before I get any.” He took another big bite, talking half his sentence around a mouthful.

  “I can relate,” I said dryly.

  “You act like I don’t share with you.” He sounded outraged, but I knew nothing really offended him.

  Curling my legs up on the couch and resting my bare feet on his thigh, I relaxed my shoulder against him. “You’re so kind, Sir. I appreciate you sharing my ice cream with me.”

  A smug half-smile crossed his face. “I mean, I do whatever I can, whenever I can.”

  I nudged him with my toes, giving his thigh a slight pinch. He just grinned as he reached over and grabbed my foot, bringing it onto his leg, before reaching for the other foot to join it. He rubbed my feet for a moment, staring at me, me staring at him, and I was lost. Lost in every sense of the word.

  “What are we doing, Spencer?” I reached over and sat my spoon down on the table in front of us.

  He followed my action before going back to rubbing my feet. “What do you mean?”

  I leveled him with a stern look, “You know what I mean. Us, you and me, what are we doing here? Whatever it is, I feel like we are walking over hot coals. I don’t know what you want from me, and the nerves are eating away at me.”

  He leaned over and kissed my toes, making me incredibly thankful I just showered. “I don’t want anything from you, just this.”

  He said it like it was so simple; like that statement didn’t leave so much more questions that needed to be answered instead of giving me closure. I tried not to sigh out my frustration for him to hear, “But what is this, exactly, Spencer?”

  He ran his palm up my calf, causing goosebumps. “Are you asking what I want from the girl next door who always has ice cream? Who lets a random praying mantis roam around the apartment, whom she named after a serial killer? Are you wondering what could possibly become of the newscaster lusting after the curves of the red-headed bombshell that makes him lose track of time and holds back his demons?”

  I could hardly think with his palms running over my skin. My thoughts blurred into one, pieces of intangible thoughts skimmed the surface of my mind trying to force their way forward. “Yes.”

  It was a statement. No, maybe it was a question. Hell, I didn’t really know what it was, but hopefully, it prompted him to answer my question; figure out the whole situation for me because, at this moment, I wasn’t capable of processing it myself. His fingers leisurely trailed down toward my legs again, his eyes focused on my own.

  “Well, I was sort of hoping we were . . .” He had just gotten the words out, when Victoria pounded on the door, opening it two seconds after knocking.

  I was too distracted by my attempt to rapidly scramble my limbs off his lap to even register if he actually completed his sentence. When Victoria entered the room, we were sitting next to each other, no doubt looking guilty with his back as stiff as a board, and me practically hugging the arm of the couch.

  “Hi, Mari. Hey, Spencer, I was heading to bed soon, but I forgot to tell you, grandma was going to pick me up tomorrow from school and do dinner and a haircut. So, I’ll be home in the evening, and Mari doesn’t have to get me.” She was looking at Spencer, both hands in her back pocket and I was pretty sure even she felt the awkwardness that hung in the room.

  “Okay,” Spencer said as we both nodded vigorously. “What time will you be home?”

  “Does it really matter? It’s grandma, we aren’t going to be out clubbing.” She did the eye roll she was becoming so famous for, and I could almost picture Spencer doing it back.

  “It matters to me. What if I wanted to make plans?” he asked her, and I felt giddiness surge through me, hoping he was talking about us.

  “Yeah, right. You? Plans? You’re the biggest hermit I know. Whatever, probably around eight thirty. You know grandma is slow about everything.” She crossed her arms in front of her now, throwing off the “screw the world” vibe that preteens are so good at.

  “Okay. Thanks for letting me know. Sweet dreams, I’ll be home in a few minutes, I’m just going to finish off some of this ice cream.”

  “Whatever. I don’t see how you aren’t fat,” Victoria tossed over her shoulder as she turned on her heels to leave, slamming the door behind her.

  The moment she was out of sight, Spencer’s hands were on me, pulling me toward him and placing my body across his lap. I had a moment of self-consciousness, a second where I doubted myself and whether I deserved this. I wondered if I was good enough for a man like Spencer, but in reality, it didn’t matter. He thought I was good enough, and if he thought I was enough, then I needed to put my doubts away and trust him.

  He buried his head in my neck and sighed, the gesture so tender and new that all I could do was bring my fingers up to his hair and hold him in place, hoping that alone would keep him with me. He gave my neck a quick kiss before pulling his head back slightly.

  “Have dinner with me to
morrow?”

  I nodded, my fingertips rubbing against the locks of his hair.

  “At my place?” he asked.

  I pulled his head away from my body. “You cook?” I asked, raising an eyebrow in question.

  “I buy,” he confirmed.

  “It’s a date,” I blurted out before I could think better of it, and I had to wonder if I picked the right words. Was it a date? We are past the point of dinner between friends, weren’t we?

  “Then, it’s a date.” He smiled at me, his eyes shining and my heart thumping.

  He lifted me up like I weighed nothing and placed me back on the couch before standing up and stretching. Leaning over, he placed a kiss on my forehead before letting me know he had to get home before Victoria came searching again, then he was gone, leaving my stomach in knots with excitement and my nerves dancing with anticipation.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  SPENCER

  I was a mess. Shit, I felt like that was the soundtrack to my entire week. I texted Mari this morning, telling her to be at my place by six-thirty, and the whole damn day I couldn’t wait. I couldn’t fucking wait to see her. But here it was, five minutes until go time and I felt like all my plans were slowly finding their way south.

  The Chinese food was late, and if it didn’t get here in the next minute, there was no way I’d be able to get it plated in time. I was aware she knew I didn’t cook, so it really didn’t matter, but I felt it did. It mattered because I wanted everything to be perfect for her. I wanted the candles lit; if I could only find the damn matches. I wanted to impress her with wine, poured specifically for her, only the corkscrew was nowhere to be found. Did I even own one? I wanted the music to be playing, the flowers to be perfect, her eyes to light up the moment she walked in and saw it all.

  There was a knock on the door, and with one last look around, I had to accept that the night was already a crash and burn scenario. I was doomed from the start. But, when I opened the door, her eyes still lit up, and she hadn’t even looked around, she hadn’t seen the unlit candle and the empty china, she was only smiling at me.

  “Did you wear this for me?” she asked, grabbing onto my tie and fiddling with it.

  A smile creased the corner of her eyes. “I did.”

  “And you did your hair, too?” Her hands went up as she stood on her toes to reach my gel-slicked hair. I nodded my confirmation, and her hands slid from my hair down to my freshly shaved cheeks.

  “You look very handsome.” I could hardly think coherently when she touched me like this.

  “I love that you dressed up, too. You look gorgeous,” I told her right before leaning down, intending to capture her lips in a searing kiss, a kiss I’d been thinking about all day long. But instead, I was interrupted by the sound of a teenage delivery boy holding out my bag of food toward me.

  I pulled Mari inside, then took out my wallet and handed over some cash before slamming the door behind me. I was rude, I’ll admit that, but I was so close to having her lips on mine, and he ruined it. A clearing of his throat and the thing I’d been craving most, the little action I’d daydreamed about all morning and throughout my afternoon meetings, torn away from me.

  The moment was ruined; of course, it was. Once the door was shut she gravitated toward the table, running her hands lightly over the linen tablecloth I’d placed over the wood and fingering along the edge of the frilly cloth napkins I bought just for this occasion. She traced her index finger around the wide width of the wine glass, and I could barely breathe, choked with thoughts of other things her hands could do, should do, would do if I was only so lucky.

  “You did this for me?” she asked, uncertainty in her eyes, and I hated her ex for making her doubt her worth, making her question herself, making her question me, when all I wanted was to show her how much I cared. I wanted to make her see she was more than just something to me; she was mine. That made her everything.

  “I did.” I watched her pull her lower lip with her teeth, practically doing me in. “You hungry?” I held up the bag of takeout, a mix of all her favorites and mine.

  “Of course. I have to admit I’ve been sort of excited about this all day. But, this is a lot more than I anticipated.”

  “Is it okay?” I asked, nervous that I fell flat on her expectations.

  “It’s perfect.” She tugged on the hem of her dress, pulling the black slinky material lower when I was willing it to move higher.

  “Well then, let’s eat!” I placed the bag down on the linen and began taking the cartons out while she opened each one and divided them onto the plates. It was teamwork at its finest, motions we had done so many times before, but now it seemed different, maybe because, in ways, we were different.

  We ate in silence, with her awkwardly using chopsticks and me laughing about it. We talked about work, Victoria, books, her books, the gym, and through it all, the only thought in my head that was hanging on, lingering, was this. I wanted this. Not just her at my table, but the companionship of her presence. Her contribution, her opinions, her airy laugh that admittedly has my slacks tightening and my breath catching. This. I wanted all of this.

  It was almost seven thirty when we began to clear the table. Mari, began washing the plates and glasses, while I boxed up the leftovers. She turned off the water, her timing in sync with me closing the fridge. “Dinner was great, the company was pretty good, too.”

  I stalked over to her, placing my hands on the sink ledge, caging her body in with mine. “Company was only pretty good, eh?” My voice was low, almost a whisper, my mind and eyes too distracted by the punishing taunt her teeth were doing on her lower lip.

  She grabbed my tie, pulling me down to her, leveling our eyes and aligning our bodies. “Well, I haven’t been kissed yet. And this may be crossing an unspoken line we have drawn, but I sort of think now we are past that line anyway, so who really cares. But, I’ve been thinking about a nice solid kiss from you from the moment you left me on the roof. None of that quick pecks here and there stuff, either.”

  I tilted my head a little closer, my eyes hooded as I watched her. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  I leaned in to capture those lips, those beautifully plump, fire engine red lips but was stopped by her hand to my chest. “But, as much as I’ve been thinking about a kiss, we need to talk first.”

  I sighed, “What is there to talk about again? I want you, I’m about to have you, where’s the problem?”

  She laughed, the sound coming from deep in her throat and making its way toward me, doing a weird thing to my insides. “Don’t I get a say in this? It sounds to me like that was pretty one-sided.”

  My left hand moved from the sink to the small of her back, pushing her body into mine, combining our heat, making us stand so close, we could be one. My head dipped, finding the curve of her neck and nipped her skin with my teeth. “Go ahead, speak my little bookworm, I’m listening.”

  Her breathing came faster, harsher than it was minutes before. “I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

  My hand lowered to the hem of her dress, then snaked up the skin on her outer thigh. “I don’t see us going back to a friendship.”

  “I’m not nearly as fit as you, I could never keep up.” She fumbled on her words, and I wondered who she was trying to convince because if she could match me in wit, she could match me in anything. My hand found the edge of her panties, the lace teasing and taunting me, begging me to dive under, urging me to get a closer look.

  “Do you think that matters to me? I’ve seen you in yoga. I’ve seen you attempt to run. I’ve seen you on your couch downing a pint of ice cream faster than I could drink a bottle of water. I don’t think keeping up will be a problem, unless it’s me keeping up with you.”

  I slid a finger under the lace, teasing the skin at the back of her thigh. “I just want what’s best for Victoria; this affects her, too.” Her words came out in pants, her body so tight in anticipation of my next move. She could hardly get t
he words out.

  I dropped both my hands to the back of her thighs and lifted her up to the edge of the counter. “Then we won’t tell her right away,” I answered before burying my head into her cleavage, licking and biting the exposed skin that had taunted me all throughout dinner.

  “I’m scared,” she whispered, and the desperation and sincerity in her voice caused me to stop and draw my body a mere inch away from hers.

  “I won’t hurt you, Mari, I promise you I won’t. If you want me, if you would let me have you, I’m yours, a hundred and one percent.” And it was true, even before I knew it, even before the accidental meeting, before all our ice cream dates and TV marathons, before I knew she existed, she had always been the one for me.

  She nodded her head, leaning toward mine, finally allowing me to capture her lips and seal whatever promises we made to each other. To finalize whatever this was that crept up on us and stole my breath away, staking its claim on my heart, owning me.

  It lasted forever . . . it didn’t last long enough. The moment we heard the faint jingle of Victoria’s keys in the door we separated our bodies, forcing our limbs apart and pretended like we weren’t just in the middle of making out like teenagers in my damn kitchen. But it was hard, damn near impossible actually, because even though we were feet apart, talking to my niece in our normal everyday way, I could still feel her legs around my waist, her skin against my lips, and that enticing burn against my palm from running my hands up her thighs.

  Was I wrong for thinking of her when my life had no room for love? How could I add love when it only equated to loss? But, standing here, watching as she enthralled my niece in conversation, completely content in being in my space, I couldn’t bring myself to form regrets, to ask for a take-back, to rewind time because this had to be fate. She had to be my fate. She had to be mine.