Kiss Me Back

by Halston, Sidney

  I snort. “No. No one really grows up thinking they want to be a bouncer. I was always the biggest kid in the class and not the one with the best grades. Got in trouble a lot, mostly for fights.” I shrug, remembering how some of those fights were because I was pissed off from being beat up at home by my dad and would take it out on the kids at school, since I couldn’t fight back against my father. “I started out working in a fast-food place then in a restaurant and eventually in a bar, you know how that goes. One dead-end job after another. At night I would work odd jobs doing security for different places, not necessarily nightclubs—strip malls and shit like that. Then I was working full-time for a while at a restaurant during the day as a manager. I applied for a part-time gig at Panic and Nick gave me the job. It eventually became full-time and I juggled both jobs for a while. But yeah, it works. I like it. It’s become more than just a job. They promoted me to head of security in Duality, which I am really excited about.”

  “Did you ever want to do something specific? Before you got stuck being a bouncer?”

  “Make money,” I say honestly, and her nose scrunches. And I feel sleazy just saying it. That’s not a dream, that’s an end. But it’s all I’ve ever wanted.

  “No one ever grows up saying they just want to make money. Although, I guess with you, I can see that.”

  Ouch. Well, it’s not like she’s wrong but this is the first time it stings to hear it.

  “Sorry, shit. That came out wrong,” she says. “I mean, the car, the suits, the house. You like nice things and…never mind. I’m sorry.” She winces.

  “No, it’s okay. My brother invested some of my money when he was starting out—when no one gave him a chance because he was just a young kid at a big firm. I didn’t have much to invest, so I never made too much, but, like I said, he was a genius and it paid off. I’m not rich but I did well plus I’ve saved, and Nick and Matt are pretty generous.”

  “I didn’t mean to pry. God…” She groans. “That was such an insensitive comment of me. You don’t have to justify your—”

  I feel like I’ve spent my entire life having to prove myself to people. This isn’t new to me. “I work hard, Lola. I always have. Maybe you think I’m just a dumb brawler who buys expensive cars and televisions. I get it. You wouldn’t be the first one to think that. But I’m not that guy.” If she saw my boxes of receipts in color-coded order and my binders with all my financial papers neatly organized, she would understand that I’m responsible and ridiculously meticulous with my stuff. But I’m not overexplaining myself to her, or anyone for that matter.

  The truth is, I just wanted to get out of the hell I lived in and prove to my dad that I could be something. I left home the day I turned eighteen and have been supporting myself ever since. But that’s too deep and I don’t tell her that. We don’t need to go there. My whole life I’ve been William Fox the big dumb guy from the shit part of town who wasn’t going to amount to anything. Now I’m something, that’s all that matters, right? “I never had a thing I wanted to be. I grew up in a bad part of Detroit and I just knew I needed to get away and be successful. I’m good at my job and it pays the bills. Maybe not the way you love working at the animal clinic but it’s a job, you know? But seriously, I can’t imagine how you can work all those hours. When I was working at two places I was exhausted. I felt that I couldn’t do a good job at either. I ultimately had to pick one.”

  She shrugs. “Do what you love, you’ll never work a day in your life.”

  I’ve heard that quote before. But growing up with my father, it was more like: White trash stays white trash. Get a job, asshole. Again, I keep that to myself.

  Lola

  What I said about his “stuff” bothered him and I feel like a world-class bitch for saying it. But he is usually so cocky and in-your-face with all his things, like his bright car, I thought he wanted to be noticed. I thought he was all about the flash. I didn’t realize it was a sensitive subject. I’m starting to realize that there’s something deeper to Fox than meets the eye. He tries to play it off like he’s just Fox, the hot bouncer but I think there’s a reason he’s this way. Like the hotness is some sort of armor to keep people away. Like he would prefer that I think him cocky rather than get into an actual deep conversation. Years of quiet observation and people ignoring me have made me astute to these kinds of things, and it’s what he doesn’t say that gives him away. Like: Get away from what? What was so bad about Detroit and his father?

  Just when I think he’s going to say something, he stands up to check on the steaks. This has been a very heavy date. The endgame was supposed to be sex, at least for me it was. And with what I knew about Fox before this evening, I thought that was what he wanted too. Now, I’m not so sure. He’s definitely more than what I expected him to be. Which isn’t necessarily good. I’m still leaving in two months, that has not changed, and the only reason I caved in to his pursuit was because he was supposed to be light and easy and fun. Hopes and dreams and painful pasts weren’t supposed to be part of the equation.

  Since he’s busy with the steaks, I down the rest of my beer and remove my shoes and sit on the edge of the pool, my feet dangling in the warm water. I’m glad it stopped raining and we can enjoy the outside. Miami summers are fickle. It might’ve suddenly stopped raining, but it could start again at any moment with a vengeance. I’m making the best of the reprieve from the bad weather. As I move my legs around, I watch the way the water ripples, and think of how I can get this date back on track.

  Fox

  The steaks are done but she looks so peaceful sitting at the edge of the pool swinging her legs, her head up to the sky. I can’t imagine what total silence feels like. I don’t know if I want to imagine such a thing.

  Careful not to startle her, I gently squeeze her shoulder. She slowly turns her head and glances at the steaks on the tray I’m holding in my hand and smiles, almost dreamily. Like she’s in some sort of content peaceful state. It’s mind-boggling to me. Life has been shitty to her, but being out here about to eat a good meal with a guy who stood her up just days before, it seems to be enough for her. Unless I’m totally reading this girl wrong. I have no idea. I’m completely out of my depth with this one.

  She gets up and follows me to the table.

  “Why don’t you come over on your next day off and we can go in?” I say, gesturing to the pool behind her.

  “Maybe.”

  She won’t commit. Noted. I’m not sure if this is the first and last of our dates or what exactly we’re doing here. Things got very heavy today but there was no way around that. I hope I can get to know her more because she’s intriguing and interesting and everything I’ve learned about her, I really like.

  “I know you said you can’t hear anything but that’s still unbelievable to me. I mean, nothing nothing?” I pluck one of the steaks onto her plate and the other one onto mine as she grabs one of the baked potatoes and places the other one on my plate.

  “There are certain low-level noises that I can sometimes hear, or maybe it’s that I can feel the vibration. I’m not sure, but I react to certain sounds. Like loud thunder, for example.”

  “The bass from the club.”

  “Exactly. It’s probably just the vibrations but it feels good to hear something, anything, even if it’s a figment of my imagination.” It’s astounding how she’s not bitter or angry. I think I’d be if it were the other way around. Hell, I’m bitter and resentful now for something that isn’t even remotely as bad as what she goes through daily.

  “How did you learn how to read lips?”

  “Out of necessity. I just did. I can’t really read every single word every single time but if I know the gist of the conversation I can pick up on most of it, for the most part. If you were to suddenly switch topics I might need a moment to adjust. Also, if I’m at a place where everyone’s talking at once
, it can get difficult to follow.”

  “I’ll try to speak slow and stick to one topic,” I say as we cut into our steak.

  “No. Don’t. Please. Most people treat me like I’m this weak disabled person when they find out. It’s one of the many reasons why I don’t readily announce it. If I get lost in a conversation, I’ll ask. Please, just be yourself. “She reaches over the table and squeezes my hand. She’s really loud now. I look around, not because I’m embarrassed but because I’m pretty certain the entire apartment complex heard her. And that was the completely wrong thing to do because her cheeks flush and she looks down. So now it’s my turn to reach over. I tip her chin up with my finger.

  “Hey, look at me, Lola. I promise, okay?”

  “Okay.” But it’s said mostly into her plate. Since we can’t really talk much while we eat, or while she’s looking down, dinner is almost silent which is disconcerting because I’m not accustomed to so much silence.

  Luckily, she looks up and smiles at me and that makes me begin to loosen up. We sit comfortably in the wrought-iron chairs when we’re done eating and enjoy the night breeze for a little bit. There’s no rush to leave, no rush to talk. We’re just…being.

  Every so often, she looks at my mouth, which I now know is her way of reading my lips, but she has this little habit of biting her plump pink bottom lip and the gesture makes me want to devour her. Except, I already kissed her tonight on a whim and now that I’ve gotten to know her a bit, I realize she’s the kind of woman you take it slow with and get to know. Even though I acted impulsively, I don’t regret kissing her, but I don’t want to scare her off either. It took her six months to agree to go out with me. I can’t exactly ravage her out here on the table, although the way her breasts move slowly up and down while she inhales the fresh air, her loose hair a chaotic mess waving around her face, her blue eyes darting to me every so often…all I want to do is reach over the table and ravage her.

  Chapter 5

  Lola

  After we finish the best dinner I’ve had in years—maybe ever—I help Fox clean up and bring everything back up to his apartment. He’s making coffee and I’m sitting on his couch waiting. I can’t believe I’m at Fox’s apartment. It’s surreal. This is not where I thought I’d be when I woke up this morning. I wonder if he’ll try to seduce me. What bullshit line will he feed me to get me naked?

  I’m trying to remain in control of my nerves. It’s been a long time since I’ve been out with a man.

  Something touches the side of my face and I look around. He’s smiling at me from the island in his kitchen, his forearms resting against the thick butcher block countertop. With a dip of his chin he gestures to the floor. I look down and then a huge smile immediately spreads across my face.

  A paper plane is on the floor just like earlier. I bend down, pick it up, and open it. Ack…this is the second time he’s done this and it’s so damn cute. But I don’t want him to be cute. I want sexy.

  Written on the plane is this: Why are you so nervous?

  My brows furrow. I look over my shoulder expecting him to still be in the kitchen but he’s right behind me now. The thick hair I love is sticking up as if he’s been running his fingers through it. His eyes narrow on me, intensely. As if he’s waiting for an answer. Damn, he’s so hot.

  “I’m not nervous,” I say.

  “Liar.” He runs his thumb across my lip and then I realize I’ve been biting it, an old habit of mine.

  “Tell me. We’ve already spilled all our secrets, may as well get it all out in the open,” he says.

  “I just…I just haven’t done this in a long time.”

  “Done what, exactly?”

  “Been on a couch with a guy wondering happens next.”

  He leans over the back of his sofa and does something that should feel intimidating but instead makes me feel oddly safe and sensual. He gently, yet firmly, grips my throat with his hand, forcing my head back onto the sofa. He moves down toward my lips, his eyes blazing. I can’t look away. Impulsively I hold his wrist—it makes me feel in control, although I’m not—not even a little bit. But he is not deterred in the least bit by my hesitation. And even when his lips touch mine, in this backward, upside down, kiss, I can’t look away. His eyes are shut and his tongue presses against my lips coercing them open. He squeezes a little bit on my throat and that earns him a moan from me. One I didn’t even see coming and a jolt of excitement runs down my spine. This is exactly want I want. What I need. A man that knows what he’s doing. A man that can take the lead and give me great mind-blowing sex for a few months, a man who’ll let me be myself. I don’t even know what “myself” is when it comes to sex. But he can teach me.

  When he finally loosens his grip, I turn around so that I’m on my knees and the back of the couch is between us. “I guess you don’t have to wonder anymore,” he says with eyes full of intensity. I place my hand over his heart. I want to hear him so badly, and I know feeling the vibrations when he speaks or when he makes a noise is the closest I’ll get.

  I lick the edge of his lips and I can feel his body tremble as if he’s growling. It’s titillating. I haven’t felt this way in so long, I almost forgot what it’s like to feel desired. He nips at the tip of my tongue and I almost come undone, but he pulls away leaving me breathless and empty. He takes my face in his hands. “You really are a little tiger, aren’t you, Lola?” I have no idea what he’s talking about, but I don’t care. I want more kisses. “I think it’s time I take you home,” he says.

  Playfully, he bites my bottom lip. I didn’t even realize I’d been pouting. “Don’t tempt me too much. I may not be able to control myself.” He gives me a final kiss on the lips and reaches for my hand to help me up.

  “I don’t want to go yet,” I whine.

  He chuckles—I can tell by the way his chest moves and the way his lips curve. “Come on. I’ll drive you.”

  “You are such a tease, Fox.”

  I realize I’m signing while I talk; it’s a habit, so I clench my fists to stop myself.

  “I promised myself I wouldn’t kiss you again tonight and I already fucked up. Let’s get out of here before I get you naked.” It’s a statement and it’s firm and decisive and leaves no room for fuss or for questioning. He takes my hand in his—it’s big and it swallows mine up. It’s also warm and I want to feel it all over my body. I almost cry in desperation. He must think I’ll mind if he gets me naked. He wants to be a gentleman? After that kiss? Why can’t he just be a jerk and try to get into my pants?

  “I hope we can do it again.”

  “Yeah, me too.” I sigh, more sexually frustrated than ever before.

  Fox

  I’m driving Lola home and as I glance over at her, she’s biting the side of her nail nervously. Maybe she regrets the kiss(es), now that she’s had a chance to think about it. It was intense and I’m still fighting off the hard-on that doesn’t want to go away. Or maybe she really didn’t want to stop? Although, I doubt that. She doesn’t seem like the kind of girl that sleeps with a guy on the first date. Was this even a date?

  But as I get closer to her neighborhood I realize why she’s nervous. She’s either ashamed of where she lives or she’s scared to go home. If I lived here, I’d be scared for my life too, and I’m a big guy who can easily defend myself. This is the worst area in Miami. Why does she live here? I don’t want to embarrass her by asking but I know she makes a pretty decent living at Panic plus she has that second job. This is a pay-by-the-day or maybe by-the-hour kind of apartment complex.

  “You can park right here.” She points to an empty spot at the curb in front of the building, a few feet away from a group of men loitering around the corner. I hop out of the car but by the time I go around to open her door, she’s already out.

  “Thanks for the ride,” she says.

&nbs
p; “You’re welcome.”

  She just stands there, looking at me expectantly. “Uh, well, okay, bye.”

  “I’m walking you to your apartment, Lola.”

  She’s still biting her nail and looks over her shoulder then back at me. “It’s okay, really.”

  I take her hand in mine. “I’m sure it’s okay.” Not mentioning the obvious. That it’s not okay. That I hate that she lives here. Shit, I’d hate for anyone to live here, which is ironic because it’s almost identical to the neighborhood I grew up in. “But I’d like to walk you to your door.”

  She nods shyly and leads me to a small metal gate by an empty pool and rusted lounge chairs. This is just unsafe; there are unsavory people everywhere. Then we get to another metal gate, this one heavy, and she opens it, the hinges creaking in the process. We walk into a staircase, the heavy door slamming loudly behind me. She doesn’t even flinch. “Be careful,” she says. “The lights aren’t working.”

  I can’t see in front of me. How the hell does she do this every single day?

  When we get to the second floor, she opens yet another metal door and then her apartment is the first door to the left.

  She already has her keys in her hand, I assume out of self-preservation or habit. She looks around a few times before opening the door. At least she’s vigilant of her surroundings, I think to myself.

  Once the door is open, she turns around to say goodbye, again trying to hurry me off. But I’m not having it. I want to see where she lives. Get to know more about her. I follow her in, which forces her to move back, and then close the door behind me. She’s worrying her nails again but she doesn’t say anything. She just looks at me…waiting.

  “I appreciate you driving me home. I didn’t really feel like taking three buses to get here at this time.”