Blue Persuasion

by Blakely Bennett

  “Your parents?”

  “Yes, definitely.”

  “Do you have brothers and sisters?”

  “One. Matt and my father aren’t in my life.”

  “Who else?”

  “Why?” I had an odd sensation in my gut. Like he planned to track them all down and make them pay. I liked it.

  “Tell me.”

  “My brother’s best friend. I thought I loved him.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Fifteen.”

  Tate’s face lit up in anger, and I knew he knew. “He took your virginity, missionary.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Yes.”

  “And your brother?”

  “He watched and egged him on.”

  “I’ll kill them both,” he growled, the heat crawling up his neck, making his ears red.

  “You sound like Bond.”

  “He knows?” he practically roared.

  “Yes. He’s the only one.”

  “That doesn’t make me feel the least bit better.”

  “Minus the sex, Bond is the big brother I wished I had. Be jealous if you must, but he’s helped me cope with the shit in my life. He’s helped me to not hate my body so much.”

  “Hate this body?” He drew me closer. “It’s meant to be worshipped. You’re a goddess and if I ever see your brother, he will reap extreme pain.”

  I smiled. “It was a long time ago. He was a kid, too.”

  “There is no statute of limitations on retaliation for permanently hurting the people I care about.”

  “You care about me?”

  He cares about me.

  He cares about me.

  He cares about me, tagged to the beginning of a new list, to mull over later.

  He cares about me!

  “Of course I do. I like you a lot and if you let me, I’ll exorcise all your demons.”

  “That’ll take some doing. Anyway, Matt’s at the bottom of the list.”

  “He’s on the bottom? How long is the list?”

  “Way too long.”

  “What did your father do?”

  “It’s what he tried to do. He tried to force me to have dinner with one of his clients. He wanted me to flirt and I quote, ‘Maybe more.’” I wrapped my arms around myself. “Apparently, my assholic brother told him I wasn’t a virgin.”

  “How old were you?” Tate looked furious.

  “We should stop talking about this,” I said, reaching for his hand.

  “Fuck no. Did your mother know?”

  “After the fact. My parents were already separated.”

  “What about your mother? You said, ‘parents.’”

  “Skeevy boyfriends. She never believed me.”

  “Did they—”

  “No, they tried, though. Lots of inappropriate groping when she wasn’t looking. I had a lock on my bedroom door and used it.”

  “Jesus Christ, Blue. I’m so sorry.”

  “Life sucks. I learned that a long time ago. My friends are really my family. My only real connection to my biology is my aunt on my mother’s side. Sometimes that has to be enough. For me, it is. I’ve spent so much time wishing I had a different body, that people wouldn’t notice me, that I could be a wallflower. My breasts got big so young. Having grown men hit on me when I was still in elementary school started my body hatred, and my family didn’t help.” Tears that I’d kept at bay during our conversation finally rebelled.

  I continued, “In high school, I got asked out a lot, but they didn’t want to know me, they just wanted me under them. I never had sex with any of them, but that never stopped them from saying I did. I was the slut of my high school, and I hadn’t slept with a single guy. Not one, unless you count my brother’s friend.”

  Tate held me in his big, strong arms as I cried what I hoped would be the very last tears over my past.

  Even in that moment, the irony wasn’t lost on me. I laid my past at his feet, the very thing he was unwilling to do with me, for me.

  He stroked my hair down my back. His care and attention felt a lot like love, and my heart broke open and apart some more.

  Once my tears stopped, we softly kissed. “Thank you,” I uttered.

  “Thank you for letting me. Would you like to go for a swim?”

  “Oh, yes,” I said excitedly, sitting up. “Oh, but I don’t have a bathing suit.”

  He smiled a big, warm, genuine smile. “You don’t need one at night.”

  I decided then and there, my new life occupation was to see that smile again. “Let’s!” I used the bathroom and found Tate waiting for me with a robe held out. His short green and beige striped robe dwarfed me. He wore a longer navy robe.

  “Damn, you look cute.” He tied my sash tight and rolled up the sleeves. After retrieving fresh towels from the bathroom, he led me out onto the deck and down the wooden stairs to the beach.

  I loved the feel of the warm sand in my toes and the sea breeze floating through my hair, but Tate’s hand in mine was the best part.

  The half-moon rose above the horizon, lighting the beach. Tate tossed the towels on the sand, and we disrobed. He scooped up my hand again, and we ran into the ocean. We high-stepped it until we were deep enough to lower ourselves into the water.

  “This feels wonderful,” I said, lying back and looking at the stars.

  “Will you spend the night?”

  I looked up into his eyes. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Do you have to work in the morning?”

  “No.”

  “Neither do I.”

  I battled with myself. Was there anything left of me to save? I scanned his face, wishing, hoping, praying that tonight meant progress and he would open up more. “Okay,” I said, giving in.

  He whooped, jumping up and splashing down, covering me in salt water.

  I laughed in joy.

  He seemed younger than I had ever seen him. The tension in his jaw and forehead disappeared.

  I jumped at him, taking him by surprise.

  He rolled me over, dunking us both under the surf.

  I came up giggling and scanned his new expression. The corners of my mouth fell.

  His lips crushed over mine.

  I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him in as tightly as he held me. I felt his desperation and understood it. I vowed I would fall for him for as long as he let me. My hands wove into his wet hair as we bobbed in the water, our lips locked in an endless kiss.

  I’m falling.

  I’m falling.

  I’m falling.

  And you care about me.

  After we parted, he said, “Any chance you could get a whole weekend off?”

  “It would take some planning. Why?”

  “I thought we could take the Harley up the coast and go for that long drive.”

  “Listen to you, you like me more than you let on,” I said, splashing him.

  “Blue, don’t.” All the stern tension returned to his face. The sound of his voice crushed my newfound joy.

  I stood up in the water dejectedly. “It’s called flirting.” I trumped up the sand to the towels. “I’m having a hard time keeping up with your mood swings.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said when he joined me on shore.

  “Yeah, yeah. Everyone’s sorry. I’m sorry, too. I’m sorry for thinking I could relax around you and just be myself.”

  “I’m an idiot. That’s how I want you to be, be yourself. Please forgive me.” He spread out the robes over the sand and we sat down.

  “I don’t think you really do. I don’t want to argue. I just feel like I have to censor myself around you. Like I can’t enjoy our time too much, or it’ll send you running away again.”

  He squeezed out the excess water from his hair and looked out over the horizon.

  I sat waiting to see if the Tate rollercoaster would spin, turn, or flip me upside down.

  Leaning back on his hands, he tilted his head my way. “I think if we both und
erstand the limitations of our ... friendship, then we can just enjoy it.”

  “What you mean is if I understand the limitations of this ... whatever is between us ... then you can just enjoy it.”

  He flashed a brief smile. “Yes.”

  “Done,” I said, lying through my teeth.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, but I’m going to sleep at home tonight. I think it’s better for both of us.” I moved to get up.

  Translation: It was better for me.

  “Okay,” he said.

  Back in our robes, he took my hand and led me to the house.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Am I Wrong?

  by Nico & Vinz

  Tate and I agreed to meet up at Stayman’s condo on Friday night. He planned go over ahead of me and have dinner with Stay and Lainie, and I’d meet up with them after my shift. I put out feelers to see if I could get my shifts covered for the following weekend at The Chart House and Tap 42. I would have to wait and see.

  On my way to The Chart House Friday evening, I received a text. Once I parked behind the restaurant, I checked my message.

  Bond: Can I see you tonight after I get off work?

  Me: Have plans.

  Bond: Come after.

  Me: Promised not to double book.

  Bond: Hmmm. Tomorrow night might be harder.

  Me: Why?

  Bond: Long story.

  Me: Please don’t tell me this has something to do with Rory.

  Bond: Okay, I won’t.

  Me: Fuck, dude. Will you ever learn?

  Bond: Probably not. It actually might help if you come by.

  Me: How does the saying go? Not my circus, not my monkey?

  Bond: Very funny, Blue. I could use a friend.

  Me: Damn you. Okay. Have you slept with her?

  Bond: No.

  Me: Keep it that way.

  Bond: Love you.

  Me: Love you too. See you tomorrow.

  I knew Rory wouldn’t give up. Young love could be so invincible and stupid. Fuck, at any age love was like that. I was still like that. Not that I would tell Tate how I felt, but the “love” thing or maybe it was its tricky cousin, obsession, ran roughshod over me. My mind was steeped in the thick, sticky poison of Tate. His hands, his scent, his cock, his broken heart, bewitched me with its incessant brew.

  Some moments, I could just float in the bliss that comes with love. So it will end, I thought. No big deal. Not all love lasted forever. Then in other moments, fear twisted in my gut, making me unsure I would recover from the loss. No other man had pervaded every inch of my soul like Tate and in such a short time.

  Being kind to me in the process became impossible when the fear flooded in. At those moments, I became the flagellant, metaphorically flogging myself within an inch of my life. If I hurt myself first, he couldn’t hurt me worse. How fucked up was that? Plenty!

  Two moments stuck with me the most: he cares about me and “don’t, Blue.” They played like a broken record in my head. I had convinced myself that progress was made. He did share about himself, if even briefly. His wife was his first, and he’d known her since high school. He was no longer a part of their group of friends, so something major had severed all those connections. Was it her doing or his?

  On autopilot, I made it through my shift and changed my clothes in the bathroom of the restaurant to jeans and a fitted top before heading over to Stay’s place. I parked in a guest spot next to the nine-story, multi-level, modern condominium with blue-tinted windows and balcony railings. After taking the elevator to the seventh floor, I knocked on their door.

  Lainie let me in and took the flowers I brought for her. “Thanks, they’re gorgeous,” she said and then reminded me to take off my shoes by the front door. She left the flowers on the kitchen counter and led me through the main space of the condo, which had cream-colored walls and big, square, beige, speckled tiles covering the floor. A four-piece set of comfortable looking, plush, dark brown couches sat around a large, square coffee table. Shelving filled with books lined the right wall. On the left sat a four-top glass table. She brought me out to a large balcony with a view of the water below.

  “Stay and Tate are in his office. He’s showing Tate his latest project. He’s working with a guy that’s trying to couple dating and gaming into one site. The graphics are very cool.”

  “I’ll have to check it out later. You look incredible, Lane. Love sure does agree with you.”

  Dressed in flowing, beige crepe pants and a matching top, she looked statuesque and sophisticated. She seemed softer and more relaxed. “Thank you. Life is really good these days.”

  “I’m very happy for you. So, what do you think of him?” I asked, resting on the wall of the balcony, scanning the view of the Intracoastal Waterway, boats, and other condominiums.

  “Tate? Not sure yet. Stay really likes him, and he seems nice enough. Maybe it’s because of my time with Mason, but there is a part of him that’s distant. I recognize it. It’s very hard to have half of a connection, and I wouldn’t wish that for you.” Before Lainie fell in love with Stayman, she was involved with a married man.

  “Yeah, no shit. Do you think he’s different with the guys?”

  “I imagine he’s different with anyone who’s not you. I saw him watching you at Red’s. He has this intense stare and it’s usually focused on you, whether you’re looking back or not.”

  I took a seat next to her.

  “It’s too late, isn’t it?” she asked.

  “Way.”

  “He’s devastatingly handsome. He must be hard to resist.” She gave me a knowing smile.

  “It’s completely impossible. Can your heart fall in love and break at the same time?”

  “Oh, Blue. I was hoping he might be your Stay and not your Mason. It’s really the worst kind of love. You can feel so up, like you’re floating around the sun and then within seconds, you come crashing into the earth’s surface.”

  “That about sums it up.”

  “Sums what up?” Stay asked, joining us on the balcony with Tate in tow. Stay wore his usual jeans and a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled to the top of his forearms. His golden-brown hair had grown in since he started dating Lainie.

  “You have a bad habit of sneaking up on people,” Lainie said with affection in her smile.

  “Only you, love. Are you hungry, Blue?” Stay leaned on the railing, facing us.

  “I ate something at work,” I said, still avoiding Tate’s gaze.

  “Blue,” Tate said. “Can I steal you for a few minutes?”

  Once our eyes connected, I felt the familiar pull on my heart and other places. “Sure.”

  “You can use the guest room,” Lainie said, showing us the way.

  A murphy bed remained closed against the wall, and we sat on the blue couch.

  Tate seemed calm. “It’s good to see you.”

  My translation: He missed me. Of course, my translation software was about as good as Google’s.

  “It’s good to see you too. Are you having a good time?” I asked, not knowing what to do with my hands. Usually we would be touching each other, but for some reason he hadn’t initiated it.

  “It’s been ... nice. Better now that you’re here.”

  My translation: He likes to be with me better than anyone else.

  I smiled. “Why are you sitting all the way over there?” There were only mere inches between us, but the gap felt like a crater.

  “If I start, I’m not sure I could stop, and I’d hate to leave a bad impression on your friends, let alone a mess.”

  My translation: He can’t control himself with me.

  My smile grew and I felt the car on the rollercoaster riding up through the clouds. I climbed up on his lap. “I need a kiss.”

  “It’s too early for us to leave, and you know what happens once we start.”

  “Too late,” I said, feeling down the inside of his thigh.

  “Don’t make it wor
se,” he admonished, but his eyes shone mischief.

  “Kiss me, Tate.”

  “If I have to,” he said, suppressing a smile. And then he did, full of passion and unrestrained heat.

  While attempting to catch my breath, I said against his lips, “Your kiss should be registered as a lethal weapon, rendering all women incapacitated by the mere touch of your lips.”

  He burst out in laughter, and my heart soared. I memorized his face, taking a mind picture to mull over later. I thought of Claire in the movie Elizabethtown, shooting pretend pics with her fingers. I had captured one of Tate laughing.

  “You, Blue. Thank you for that. I haven’t laughed that hard in a while.”

  “Happy to be of service.”

  “Speaking of servicing, what’s your schedule tomorrow?”

  “Nice double entendre. Uh ... I’m working at Tap 42, night shift, but...”

  “Bond,” he said, moving me off his lap.

  I touched his arm and thankfully, he didn’t pull away. “He wanted to see me tonight, later, and I said no.”

  “Will you have sex with him?”

  I took in Tate’s sad eyes. “I don’t know.”

  “It’s not a given?”

  “No. The night after you and I met at the beach, Bond and I just talked.”

  “Did you spend the night with him?” His hand covered mine, which I took as a good sign.

  “Yes, I did.”

  “In his arms?” His hand fell away.

  Not good. “Yes.”

  “What if I say I don’t want you to?”

  “Sex or sleeping together?” The tenor of the conversation unsettled my stomach.

  “Both. Especially sleeping together.”

  “Why?” Why, oh why, can’t relationships be easy for me?

  “Because you won’t spend the night with me.”

  Sitting next to Tate, for once I had no clear comeback or direction to head. I opted for a question, “Do you know why I haven’t spent the night?”

  “Yes, but you said you understood the parameters and what I can offer.”

  “Either we’re fuck friends or we’re more.”

  “More.”

  My eyes widened and I gasped.

  More.

  More.

  More... What a fucking dangerous word.