Unsurprisingly Complicated

by Claudia Burgoa

  “Keys.” He wiggles his fingers.

  I growl at him, walk around my car and climb in after I unlock it. He doesn’t wait and slips into the passenger seat. I miss the chance I had to jet off and leave him on the sidewalk.

  “Learn this important rule. My car, I drive.”

  Mason has to learn that he’s not going to change things around because he’s a guy or I’m a defenseless girl. Jacob can do it when it’s late, but only because he’s my brother and has an alpha complex the size of the universe.

  I start it up and drive away, cranking up the volume on my music. Tchaikovsky’s “Sleeping Beauty” fills the car and gives me the excuse to avoid him. Concentrate on the road and forget that when he burst into the restaurant and claimed me, my heart beat faster than ever before.

  We arrive at my home within twenty minutes. As I turn off the engine and leave the car, I realize that Mason has already opened my door and his palm is waiting for me so he can help me out of the vehicle. Damn, he’s wearing me down fast, he’s my kryptonite. My weakness. I need some strength if I’m going to win this round.

  “You changed your phone number,” Mase breaks the silence while I’m opening the front door. He walks toward the keypad and deactivates the security alarm. “None of my messages went through.”

  “I received a few.” Mason leans against the wall and watches me. “I had to do it—switch phones. It wasn’t because of you.”

  His brow arches, some strands of his hair cover his forehead. Mason’s crossed arms show every ridge his muscles create, and I slowly start to melt.

  “It’s Porter. I had to cut the only way he could reach me,” I explain, and Mason’s jaw twitches. “All day Friday and Saturday, he called until he decided to find me at the music school. When he told me that he wouldn’t stop calling and texting me, I handed over my phone to the first person who walked down the street.”

  “If he harasses you, you call me so I can take care of him.”

  “I can take care of myself,” I fight back. “Plus, you’re not my favorite person at the moment.”

  “Not your favorite person? You told me that you hate me. That’s harsh, Nine.” He closes his eyes for a few breaths and slightly opens one of them. “Is that why you didn’t give me the new number?”

  It’s a yes and no answer. I preferred to give my number only to a few people and keep it from others. Mason was on the top of the list of Nots. There’s this Mason-free period I require to settle my thoughts and friend-zone him.

  “I don’t hate you.” That’s the last emotion I’ll ever harbor for him. Lust, that’s the emotion that pops up when I think about Mason Irresistible Bradley. Another great way to use his middle initial. If I can only find out what the I. and H. mean… one day. No, never. We might never be friends again. Not as long as I want to jump his bones.

  “How bad did I fuck up, Nine?” His flattened face directed at me says nothing, but his eyes look hopeful and sad.

  That’s a hard question, because he didn’t. It was all me. I’m the horny one here.

  “You didn’t fuck up anything, I knew better.” Honesty will take me further. “I’m a hopeless romantic and didn’t stop myself from… Give me a few months to get over the slight crush I developed.”

  The fairy laughs while my heart stares at me in disbelief. Slight? Try almost fell head over heels and I’m having withdrawals. Would you mind giving me a few mind-blowing kisses before I start purging you out of my system?

  “It takes about three years,” Mason tells me. I look at him as if he had lost his mind. There’s a pensive shimmer in the shadow of his eyes. “To tame it—the crush. You never get over it. I’ve tried, Nine. But the thing is, I don’t believe in relationships, and I have rules that shouldn’t apply to sweet girls like you.”

  “You’re talking about me?” I point at myself, and he slightly tilts his head down. “You had a crush on me three years ago, and you think I’m sweet? Well, I guess it’s a good thing you got over it then.” A bittersweet chuckle escapes me as he announces he had a crush but now it’s over. Yet the girl he talks about was everything but sweet three years ago. The guys I dated after Porter wouldn’t call me that at all. The only thing we did was fuck, talk some, and fuck some more before I left their place. They believed I was made of ice, but that’s not the real me. I no longer care for heartless AJ.

  “We’re better as long distance friends,” I inform him of the conclusion I came up with during the past four days. We have the perfect relationship, and it’s because we’re never around each other. “Being close makes us do stupid things, like kiss. Kisses that have me believing that you can be that special person.”

  His eyes soften, and he pushes himself off the wall getting close to me, but not too close, “I care for you, Nine. You have no idea how much, but I do.”

  Care? I do have an idea how much he cares about me. Each time I’m crumbling down, Mason finds me and picks me up. Other times, he lets me lean on him while I recover. If he ever ended up in trouble, I’d do the exact same. However, the difference between care for a friend and being the special person is like talking about summer and fall. They are both seasons, but with pretty different climates.

  “You know I’m working toward my future, right?” He nods. “This future doesn’t need a co-pilot for me to fly. However, having a co-pilot and being someone else’s co-pilot would be nice.” I did not just compare love to planes...did I? Recalling our previous conversations and the fact that he’s not a believer, I move the conversation along those premises.

  Logical.

  Mason’s style.

  He draws his brows together and crosses his arms. Confusion? Maybe he’s finding a way to let me down nicely as I speak, just in case I make an ass out of myself. I won’t humiliate myself.

  “You’re a nonbeliever.” Placing the tips of my fingers on my chest, I continue. “I believe you fear that love will hurt you and you’d rather stay safe forever. I’m the opposite. I’d rather risk and find the joy of having someone to share my life with, no matter how many times I fall and fail.”

  His dismay grows, and I become more uncomfortable, yet my mouth continues speaking what my mind and heart order. They’re traveling at a thousand miles an hour and are about to collide with a wall of concrete, and yet neither pushes the brake pedal.

  “The most important part of that love story is that it has to be his and mine.” I press my hands to my chest. “Not a copy of my parents’, the latest romance novel, or a movie. A unique and uncomplicated love story. You’re a non-believer when it comes to love and forever, which is sad, but I understand you.” Maybe I don’t like it and would love to change it, but I get why he won’t ever invest himself emotionally. In part, he carries all that crap his parents put him through while growing up.

  I gather all the courage I have left and finish, “If you care so much about me, you’ll stop texting me. There won’t be any more encounters where you try to claim something you actually don’t want.”

  My confidence is as strong as an empty eggshell, but I continue, “From now on, you’ll stay far away and never try to use those lips on me.” My lips beg for one last kiss, but at least that’s the one thing I don’t say out loud.

  “Once I can manage your presence, and I stop wanting more than a friendship from you, we can go back to texting each other and discussing the weather, holidays, and whatnot.” Straightening my back, I gracefully head to the door and open it. There’s a slight fracture in my heart. Nothing major—or so I try to convince myself.

  It’ll heal soon, I convince myself. You did the right thing.

  Relief washes over me as Nine says that she understands that I don’t do forever. Her voice cracked while she asked me to leave her alone until she’s able to stand my presence without wanting more.

  I fucking knew it. Now she wanted nothing to do with me. No more kisses, no more attempts to hold her curvy body against mine. The daily pictures we text each other banned, no more sporadic ph
one conversations or texts where I can learn how her day is going.

  The door remains open; she’s gripping the handle with both hands and staring outside while she waits for me to leave. My open invitation has been revoked, and I lost my place in her life. My heart slows down, the blood running through my veins freezes, and the cocktail of emotions slam one against the other inside my heart. All else stops and my chest constricts as panic is the only emotion running through my entire body. This girl – no, woman - has always had the power to keep me unbalanced. Nothing she says or does is expected. She’s my fucking weakness, the one person who can warm my heart with one smile. I hurt when she hurts and rejoice when she’s content. Even during my worst hour, nothing affects me as much as what she just said—did.

  “I believe in you.” I move closer, hoping she’ll stop staring at the porch and turn those green eyes toward me. “Always.”

  Her head snaps toward me, her eyes concentrate on me. They assess me and wait, her entire body remains frozen, but I have her attention. I’m in the middle of a hostage situation, negotiating. However, I don’t know exactly what it is I want. Nor do I know what I’d give in exchange to get what she holds from me. Her friendship, her smiles, her words, herself, and her heart. Do I want her heart? Hell yes, I do. Even as I fear that I wouldn’t know what I’d do with it when I win it. Yet, I want it.

  Selfish bastard.

  I can play it safe, give as much as I can within reason.

  “I believe in you,” I repeat, clearing my throat. “It’ll be easy to dare and try to fall for you and learn to fly with it. My only fear is the aftermath. When the fuel stops and we crash. I can’t imagine my life without you, Nine.”

  Which is why I’m doing this. Those words don’t make it out of my mouth. Instead, I wait for her.

  Nine closes the door, leans against it, and places the tips of her fingers on her eyelids and takes several deep breaths.

  “That’s okay, Mase.” She releases her arms, then crosses them, and her green eyes stare at me. “Totally understandable, that’s why I need space.”

  No, no, no. I told her that I want to try because I believe in her. Except afterward, I had stated the fact that I’m aware of how it must have sounded to her.

  “If I hadn’t been burnt so badly by a friend, I’d dare to try, Mase.”

  I remain stoic, concentrating on what she says and working a way out of the mess I created and back into her life. “You’re smart, funny, caring, kind, hot…” Her face turns a shade of pink; I can’t help but smirk at her. Fuck, I want her so bad.

  “I’d dare to say we’ll be there for each other no matter what.” She licks her lips and pats her skirt down. “But what if everything we have is lost? For now, we can put it on hold until later. If we continue down this road, I don’t know what’ll happen. Even as I want to dare to try and work it out, you scare me.”

  The last words are a series of tremulous whispers.

  “The way I can feel so much when you touch me or kiss me.” She hugs herself, as she rubs her arms. “You also have the power to drive me crazy. That hot and cold behavior in only a few weeks did a number on me. Then you have to remember that I’m intense, Mase. If I fall for you, it might be fatal for me.”

  I walk to where she stands, so close our feet touch. There’s nothing separating us. Her big, bright, green eyes concentrate on mine. The same emotions that run through my soul can be seen in those eyes. Fear, passion, care, hurt.

  Fuck, she’s hurting.

  “I’m sorry about that—fighting the attraction. Fighting it gets harder.” I give her a head to toe glance and then concentrate on those full, peach lips. “I’m reminded of how pretty you are from the outside and the inside, and on top of that, you’re sexy.”

  She scrunches her nose while sucking on that lip.

  “Fucking hard to stay away,” I groan while stopping myself from taking those lips. “Hell, Ainse, I hate when you hurt.”

  Jumping from an airplane with a faulty parachute, escaping from the jungle while being the target of a militia, or having a gun pointed to my head is less scary than the words I’m about to blurt.

  “Let’s dare and try.”

  Scary, but I’d rather take that risk than the risk of losing her.

  I slide my hands around the back of her body and link them right on top of her back-end. “Give me one date, Nine,” I murmur as I press my forehead to hers. “A normal first date can tell us how things will work out before we go all out and lose our friendship.”

  Her eyes tremble along with her lip, and after four breaths, she speaks, “How about I sleep on it?”

  She’s got to be kidding me. My heart beats faster, waiting for me to snap and tell her to go fuck herself with her doubts and… I don’t.

  Nine scratches her temple and holds her belly. “Give me some time to weigh the pros and cons. You’re not the only one taking a risk.”

  The message behind those words is clear, I want to, but I have to work it out before I take that step. Cautious. A word she barely uses. If any, I know my friend really needs the space and can react negatively if I don’t give it to her.

  “I can do that—wait for you. Call me.” I kiss her nose and linger around her lips for a few seconds. “Good night, Nine.” Without waiting for a no or some excuse, I head outside the house. Tonight I took a big step, and I have to think how far I want to take it and for how long. This is going to be a long night. Except if she calls me tonight, then I’ll rush to find out her decision; ready to plead if the outcome is a big no.

  “Please, say yes,” I mumble after shutting the door of her house.

  “You have the assets for the operation, don’t you?” I question the big shot FBI Special Agent Grennaldi.

  Kowalski and I sit in the conference room facing the big screen where our audience speaks about their new case and how they want us to help with it. I listen to Agent Bradford from the DEA go on about drugs being smuggled; nothing new. Then Agent Grennaldi asks for our consulting services.

  “This new cartel is different,” an FBI agent, who is in charge of the case, takes over the conversation. “We’re talking about drugs, high-caliber arms, money laundering, and there’s word that they have a rebel paramilitary base. But their support comes from various rich investors from our own country. So we have to be good neighbors; what affects them will indirectly smear on us, too.”

  Kowalski agrees with him.

  “Understandable. Why and what do you want from us?”

  “You can break into their system.” I can’t help but grin at his comment. “We’ve tried and our people said that you can do the work in less time and without a trace or leaving clues that we broke in. After you come up with information, we may need help to control them.”

  “Control?”

  “Yes, Bradley, we both know that if one group falls, the next will take over,” the DEA agent says. “We want them gone from our country, but they can do whatever the fuck they want in their own—within restrictions.”

  Politics, I’d never understand them. A class or two of poli-sci might come handy with all these government projects the company has landed me in the past year.

  “Send me what you have.” I type a few numbers. “My quote is on its way. It’s, of course, an estimate. If I need to add any other charges, I’ll have my people email you the amounts for your approval. The contract is attached, too. An amendment to add extra services will be signed if needed. If we end up doing field work, I work alone, not under your orders.”

  When I started the company, I lost two people and money because I hadn’t drawn the right contracts. We’re trained to work as a team, and working under others of a secondary party that doesn’t have a sense of communication is dangerous for my operation. Then if things are only half done because the agency fucked up, they don’t want to pay.

  “You’re shitting me.” Grennaldi browses his monitor. “You’re robbing the country and asking for too many liberties.”

 
“No, I’m risking my ass and putting myself in a position no one else would,” I remind him. “The paperwork I require expedite the time. You don’t have to sign, there are other companies that will charge you half and work under your conditions.”

  “We’ll contact you if we decide to hire you.”

  The screen went black; a day or two and they’ll email the signed contract. But I’m wrong this time as my computer pings and the email with the information of what we’re working with and an adjusted quote appear. I respond with a thank you for the information, but I will not agree to any changes to the quote or my requirements. They’ll bite. I send another email to my people so they can start the research while I sit on my ass waiting for the bureaucracy to work in my favor. Once they send what I asked for, I’ll have their answers to what we’re exactly dealing with.

  “You’re an asshole.” Kowalski’s ramble makes me want to punch him, but I don’t bother to get physical. I remain quiet in hopes that he’ll shut the hell up and leave soon. “Still not getting laid? It’s easy. Say, ‘sorry, I’m a natural asshole.’ Hopefully, she’ll understand. If that doesn’t work, try a strip club or an escort service.”

  I leave the conference room, heading to my office. Kowalski’s behind me, and at this point I have no idea what to say or do to make him go away.

  “Nine didn’t work,” he concludes without giving a fuck about my private life. “Go get laid with the first available body and come back less of an asshole.”

  “Shut up, Karl.” I shut the door behind me as I enter my office and lock it.

  When Nine and I talked, I agreed to give her time to decide, but that was a week ago.

  Looking out the glass wall of my office, I drink in the view of Lake Washington. It reminds me of my beautiful mermaid. I wonder what she’s doing now without any pools close to her home. Among her rituals, she swims for about an hour a day. Fuck, everything reminds me of her, makes me think about her. At nights, I toy with the idea of being that man she speaks of, the one who she can fall for and share everything. Of course, by morning, reason returns, and I push that scenario from my mind. One day, it’s all I ask from her—for now. Maybe we can work something out, go just far enough for the both of us to enjoy each other.