by Leddy Harper
His hands became blurry in front of me as he reached out to grab mine. I blinked and tears fell, allowing my sight to clear up for a moment before clouding over again. No words were exchanged, nor did I ever raise my gaze to his face. We just sat there, holding hands in silence until the waitress came to our table. That’s when he let go of me, and lack of his warmth chilled me to the bone.
Bentley had to order for me since I couldn’t pull myself together long enough to make up my mind. It wasn’t that I sat there and cried. I was in a daze, an unfocused stupor as I stared blankly at the table. Eventually, after the waitress left, he moved out of his seat and slid into the booth on my side. His hand rested on my thigh, heat building beneath his palm until it overtook my entire being. The void I’d felt inside since opening up about my mom evaporated beneath his touch, but nothing calmed me down more than when I leaned over and pressed my cheek to his chest.
“You should probably smile before people start thinking I brought you on this date to break up with you. There’s some burly looking men here that might take a tree branch to the backs of my knees in the parking lot if they think I just broke your heart.”
The side of my mouth lifted slightly, but it wouldn’t form into a real smile. “Talk dirty to me, Bentley.”
His arm stiffened around my shoulder. “What?”
“If you want to pull me out of this funk…talk dirty to me.” I needed that impersonal act to switch off my damaging pain, to make me focus on the outcome, not the reality. I only hoped he’d offer me the reprieve I sought.
“Your tits look great in that top.” His husky voice lowered as he whispered in my ear.
“Keep going.”
“I’ve actually come a few times while thinking about fucking them. But it’s never as good as when I think about bending you over, your ass in the air, and fucking you until you come all over my cock.”
My smile grew, but I kept my eyes closed and my cheek pressed against his chest. “Do you think about fucking me often?”
“Do I often think about it? Yes. Do I think about fucking you repeatedly? Hell yes. I think I’ve jerked off more times in this last week than I ever have through my entire adolescence.”
“You know…” I pulled away and became giddy at the goofy grin that stretched across his lips. “We could totally make that happen tonight.”
“I knew you were going to say that,” he said with a deep, rumbling chuckle that shook his shoulders. “Let’s just see how things go.”
My mood lightened, yet the throbbing between my legs grew more intense. He finally went back to the other side of the table once the food came, but it did nothing to stop my burning need for him. Our conversation never went back to my mom or her death, nor did it stay on the topic of sex. Just knowing he thought about being with me had my body zinging with excitement.
When we got back in the truck, I glanced behind me and smiled in his direction, knowing he could see the mischievous gleam in my eyes. “That’s a mighty big back seat you got there, Bentley.”
He craned his neck, bringing his face closer to mine. “It sure is. It’s great when hauling a lot of things. Very spacious.”
“I bet there’s enough room to really sprawl out.”
He laughed and shook his head, the engine roaring to life as he started the truck. “I’ll keep that in mind if I ever have to sleep in my car.”
I playfully shoved at his shoulder. “You said we’d see how things go. I think dinner went well, don’t you?”
“Yes, it did. But I didn’t say we’ll see how dinner goes.”
“I’m not getting laid tonight, am I?” My teasing tone hid my disappointment well, but it wasn’t enough to convince me of it. An invisible weight settled on my shoulders until they felt heavy and laden. But I wouldn’t let him see that. I couldn’t let on how desperate I’d become to feel someone touch me. Not someone…him.
We settled into a good conversation on the drive back to the salon. I’d accepted the fact that he wanted more out of me than I could give, and this would more than likely be the last time we’d spend together. He couldn’t give me what I wanted, and I wasn’t ready to give him what he sought. I needed the physical, while it seemed he needed the emotional, and neither of us were willing to budge.
“Did you want to get together this weekend and hang out?” he asked after he pulled up next to my car in front of the salon.
“I don’t really think that’s such a good idea, Bentley.”
His brow furrowed, the lights on his dash casting a shadow in the creases of his forehead. “Why not? I thought we were having a good time tonight.”
“Yeah, we were. But…you want me to see things I’m not ready to grasp just yet. You want me to feel things I can’t bring myself to feel. And you want me to do this without giving me anything in return. It’s your way, or no way. And I don’t know how much I’m willing to give up for something you can’t even guarantee.”
“So you’re saying you don’t want to see me again because I won’t fuck you?”
His tone was cold and harsh, and for some reason, it filled me with guilt. It took me a moment to sort through my emotions and thoughts to find the right words to answer him. “My decision actually has nothing to with sex. It has to do with what you’re asking of me. I understand you just want to be a friend to me and help me through this shitty time in my life, and I really appreciate that. However, I can’t just snap my fingers and follow your every command. You’re asking me to completely flip my life upside down, turn it inside out, pull all my demons out of my closet, and face them head on. I can’t do that all at once. That will break me. I’m willing to have you in my life as a friend, to help guide me out of this sinkhole I’ve found myself in, but I have to think about how I can do that without losing myself in the process.”
“You want to take your time…”
“Yes. And no. I mean, can you just give me this weekend to think about it? To figure out how I’m going to rearrange my life to fit you in it? I have to wrap my mind around everything. It’s my life…it’s not as easy as you make it sound.” I had no idea what I was saying. My mind was all over the place with thoughts firing in all directions, each thought confusing and conflicting the one before it. I didn’t want to make a decision right then. I wanted time to contemplate everything.
“Okay. I can give you the weekend to think about it.”
I laid my hand over his. “Thank you, Bentley. Come here on Monday at four. That’s when I get off work. We can talk about it then.”
He didn’t say any more, only gave me a tight smile. I knew he wasn’t pleased with my offer, because he didn’t even bother to get out of the truck to open my door. He sat in his seat, staring at the steering wheel as I helped myself down and closed the door behind me. I stood next to his truck for a moment, worrying that I’d made the wrong decision, but I knew it was what I needed to do. I had so much to think about, and I didn’t even know where to start.
Bentley waited until I backed out of the parking space before putting his truck in reverse, and then he stayed behind me until we were out of the parking lot. I turned right, he turned left. His taillights in my rearview mirror left me with an aching emptiness inside that I couldn’t interpret.
That emptiness followed me through the night and into the next day. I wanted him in my life, in whatever capacity I could have him. I had no doubt about that. My hang-up was…how could we both get what we wanted? He wanted me to move past the pain of losing my mom, and while I wanted the same thing—no longer desiring the whole “sweep it under the rug” mentality—I didn’t think I could jump in head first. I needed to ease into it, slowly drift from where I was to where I needed to be. And until I could reach a point where I no longer needed the distraction of mind-numbing sex, I couldn’t give it up cold turkey. And I’d need the comfort of my coping mechanism more now than ever if I were to really dig inside and deal with the pain and loss over my mom.
My compromise was to keep my Saturday nig
hts while entertaining his company the other six days of the week. Obviously, come Monday, I wouldn’t tell him that. All he needed to know was that I’d chosen to let him in. I’d give him the chance he wanted. He didn’t need to know about what I did behind his back. We weren’t in a relationship, so I didn’t owe him my celibacy. Nor did I owe him any explanations. We were friends…he made that point clear.
My mind was made up and my heart was light as I slipped on my red boots Saturday night, ready to hit the bar. My hair was styled in the usual messy waves, my lips were lined in sensual red to match my red-and-white racer-back tank, and I had on my cutoff shorts that made my thighs seem far more muscular than they actually were. There was nothing like the promise of a bar and men to ease the worry over real life. Just one night. That’s all I needed to settle my frayed nerves left behind by a week of Bentley and his adamant desire to open me up.
My confidence soared as I neared the bar on the outskirts of town. I didn’t dare go back to Woody’s in the event Bentley decided to check up on me. Dixie was a nice bar, but it was so far away from home. However, I knew the drinks were good and the men were even better.
It took all of five minutes to find my guy. He was tall with wide shoulders, a shaved head, and wore a pair of dark Levi’s that hugged his ass in the most delicious way. He’d caught my eye the moment he walked through the door. But I had to play the game right. I sat alone at the bar, sipping my Coke through a straw, while glancing his way through my lowered lashes. It took him a few minutes, but he finally noticed me. When he smirked, I knew I had him. My head spun and my stomach fluttered, leaving me with the sensation of downing a few shots as he left his perch at the end of the bar to make his way over to me.
I flipped my hair over my shoulder and turned my face to him sexily as he took the empty stool next to me. I hoped to exude the confidence that filled me.
He leaned in closer, consuming every ounce of space around me, and asked, “You here all by yourself?”
“Unfortunately. My friend was supposed to meet me here, but she bailed after I’d already sat down. I figured I’d finish my drink and then head home. Unless you know of something else going on tonight?”
A satisfied smirk took hold of his lips as he leaned in even closer to me. The fresh scent of soap and laundry detergent wafted from him like the breeze coming off an ocean. “I think I can come up with something to do. What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Colby,” I answered confidently and placed my hand in his open palm.
He pulled my hand to his mouth, pressing his lips to my knuckles. “Pleasure to meet you, Colby. I’m Jake.” That was such a lie—he looked nothing like a Jake, but I wasn’t about to call him out on it. After all, Colby wasn’t my real name, either.
“What do you have in mind, Jake?”
“What do you say we get out of here and find out?”
I coyly tilted my head in his direction, playing the part perfectly, but for some reason, it didn’t feel right. He was good looking; nothing about him had turned me off. But there was something missing. I couldn’t put my finger on it, and I hoped if I gave it a few more moments, I’d figure it out. “But you just got here. I would feel horrible about taking you away from your friends.”
“They’re big boys. They can take care of themselves. I don’t need to be here to hold their hands. So what do you say? We finish our drinks and head out?” His glass of beer was half full. But it wouldn’t surprise me if he could down the rest of it in two swallows. My glass, on the other hand, was new. It may have only been soda, and therefore not a waste of money to leave behind, but he didn’t know that.
“Sounds like a plan.” I took another sip from my straw with my gaze locked on his. I waited for desire to swirl within me, but it wasn’t the same as before. Normally, my lips would take on a permanent grin—not out of happiness, but because of the sex-induced endorphins that ran rampant through me. But that’s not how I felt sitting next to this man. I had no pulse where it mattered, and my panties couldn’t have been any drier had I just pulled them out of the fluff cycle. I contemplated asking for a shot from the bartender, but I didn’t want to take the chance of impairing my judgment.
“Are you gonna try to tell me you don’t do this often? Huh? Play the innocent card, the good-girl act? Because I’ll tell you right now, sweetheart, I’m not buying it. In fact, I’ll bet money that you came here all by your lonesome, that you never had a friend meeting you here. No one bailed on you. Except maybe a boyfriend, and this is your way of getting back at him.” He didn’t say it maliciously, but it felt like an insult nonetheless.
I decided to cut the crap and give it to him straight—well, as straight as I’d get with him. “I had no intention of playing the innocent, goodie two-shoes. If that was my angle, I wouldn’t have given in so quickly to leave with you. But you’re wrong about one thing. I was supposed to meet my friend, and she did cancel. So what else was I supposed to do? I was already here, might as well try to get laid. Right?”
“Ah…the shit I wanna do to that mouth.”
“And the shit I want you to do with yours,” I said with a smirk, anticipating that a little dirty talk might spark something within me.
“Hurry up and finish that drink, sweetheart.”
I leaned all the way over until my lips grazed his ear. “And you couldn’t be more wrong about the boyfriend assumption. This isn’t to get back at anyone. It’s because I like to fuck. Hard.”
A growl rumbled through his chest as I slowly backed away, and then I used my tongue to find my straw for another sip. His pupils dilated, showing his hunger for me, and it fueled my confidence, making me feel invincible. But it still didn’t do anything to elicit the excitement I’d need to leave with him.
“Let me go freshen up in the ladies’ room, and then we can go.”
He didn’t even bother to respond, only bit down on his lip, baring his teeth, and then watched me get off the stool through his half-lowered eyelids. The moment I stood on both feet, a warm fuzziness filled my head, which usually made me feel good, but not this time. It actually had me questioning myself like an internal alarm system.
I quickly made it to the sink in the bathroom and splashed cool water on my face. I glanced up at my reflection, shocked at the eyes that stared back at me. They were mine, but seemed so lost. The girl in front of me wasn’t me at all. I was always the one in the group to laugh the loudest, to smile the biggest, and the rock when anyone needed it. But the girl in the mirror, she wasn’t that person at all. Her brown eyes were so dull, as if her soul had given up. You could no longer see the smile lines next to her eyes because the dark circles beneath them became the focal point. Her pouty lips were soft and smooth, no longer cracked from her once permanent grin.
When was the last time I looked in the mirror?
Or maybe I just hadn’t paid attention to the face staring back at me.
I used to look like a younger version of my mom, but now, I was just a pathetic reflection of a very sad girl. No wonder Bentley felt so strongly about saving me. All he had to do was take one look at me and see what a mess I was. It all made sense now why he wouldn’t sleep with me. Who would choose to have sex with someone on the verge of completely dying inside? I looked sick.
I turned my back to the mirror, no longer wanting the visual. I couldn’t stand my own reflection. Yet the man outside waiting for me seemed so eager to get me out of there. To get me alone. To fuck me. It suddenly hit me—I didn’t get a man every Saturday night because I looked good, or because I knew how to play the game. There was no game. At least none that I was a part of. The game had actually been played on me this entire time. These men…these strangers I allowed inside me, they took one look at me and saw me for exactly who I was: a hole that was willing. The dullness in my eyes didn’t matter, they got off regardless. The pain in my bones didn’t matter; it didn’t affect my participation in the moment. They won. I again…lost.
The harsh burn of tears threat
ened to consume me and take me down. My empty stomach felt full, filling with hurt and regret that licked its way up my chest and became a permanent fixture in my throat. I wanted to lock myself in a stall and heave into the toilet to rid my body of the devastation that had become so engrained in me, it’d changed who I was. But I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t give in to the pain like I’d done so many times before. I took a few deep cleansing breaths, and then pulled my shoulders back before walking out of the bathroom. Bentley had been right. I needed to get my life back. And I wouldn’t do that hiding out in a bathroom or leaving a bar with a man who’d given me a fake name. I wouldn’t get my life back by spreading my legs for a moment of pleasure. I had one thing to do, and that was to go back home, alone, with my head held high.
But as I stepped out of the restroom, I found Jake waiting for me against the wall. “Ready, sweetheart?”
You’d be surprised how many guys you meet at bars will call you by some cheesy name, which only proved how often they picked random women up. Typically, I didn’t mind it. Not that I liked it, but it was whatever. But now, after seeing myself for who I’d turned into, the name made me cringe. It did nothing but remind me of the dark trenches I’d found myself in, the deep, desolate hole I’d been hiding in this whole time. And I no longer wanted to be there.
“Sorry, guy, but tonight isn’t gonna happen.” I moved to the side and stepped past him.