The First Law of Love

by Abbie Williams

  “I will tonight,” I said, though I couldn’t consider much beyond this moment, looking into his eyes.

  His eyes smiled again, just before his lips, and I felt all weak and hot through my limbs, all along my center. He said, “Thanks for bringing Gus and Lacy back last night. They ended up sleeping on the pullout couch instead of heading to their place.”

  “Did you go back out to the rock?” Somehow I was sure he had. The Rawleys were busy ordering appetizers and drinks, so I felt safe asking, as they weren’t directly listening.

  “I took Buck out for a long time actually. No one else showed up,” he said. “I can’t sleep when the moon is like that, waxing to full.”

  Is there any other reason? I wanted to beg. I wished I had been with him so badly that my chest hurt.

  “I know exactly what you mean,” I said. “I can’t sleep during thunderstorms. There’s been quite a few while I’ve been here.”

  “Summertime does it,” Case said. We hadn’t so much as glanced apart and I felt the heat of his gaze like a touch upon my skin, as always. He said, “They can be violent but they usually roll through pretty quickly.”

  “Clark said weather changes fast here,” I affirmed. I jumped a little as Garth flicked a piece of breadstick at Case.

  “Hey, you two want to go in on a pitcher, to start out?” Garth asked, looking between Case and me with only thinly-veiled speculation.

  “Yes, that sounds great,” I said.

  Case nodded.

  “Can we get some potato skins?” Wy begged then. He reminded me, “Remember, Tish, anything you want!”

  “You buying? Sweet,” Marshall declared, teasing his little brother.

  “Sure, that sounds good, and mozzarella sticks too,” I said to the pretty redheaded server who was waiting near Marshall’s left elbow. She was totally giving him the eye, but he was playing it cool, as cool as a cucumber salad as Gran would have said, and I almost giggled.

  “No problem,” she said, clicking her pen and fluttering her lashes at Marsh.

  “Thanks,” Marsh said, only checking her out after she sauntered away. He muttered, “Shit, I gotta get her name, dedicate a song or two.”

  “What a smooth operator,” Garth teased him.

  “Hey, that’s how you first got in Becky’s pants, I’m just saying,” Marshall fired right back, and we all laughed hard at this, even Garth.

  “Damn, not in front of the kid,” Garth managed to say through his laughter. “Shit, he hasn’t even French-kissed a girl yet.”

  Wy grew indignant, saying, “Have so!”

  “When and where?” Marsh demanded.

  “Other than Hannah’s earring?” Case asked, angling one shoulder to face Wy. At the word ‘earring,’ I had a sharp flutter in my stomach, thinking again of my missing silver hoop.

  Wy knitted his eyebrows and admitted, “Fine! Not yet.”

  “There’s plenty of time for that,” I told him. “Remember, I was almost a senior in high school before my first kiss.”

  “Yeah, I heard that story,” Garth said, provoking more laughter.

  “So judging by this time line, are you still a virgin?” Marsh asked, totally straight-faced, and everyone laughed even harder, including me. I punched his arm.

  “You are begging for a severe beating,” Case told him, even though he was laughing too.

  “Ow,” Marsh complained, nursing his arm where I’d decked him. He said to me, innocently, “It’s all right, I still am too. Maybe we could, like, help each other in this regard…”

  “Oh my God,” I groaned, my stomach again hurting from laughing.

  The server returned with our appetizers and drinks, and Garth did the honors, pouring for all of us. Wy had a coke with two cherries stuck on the rim. I snagged a mozzarella stick and leaned back towards Case asking, “So, where’s the elk steak on the menu?”

  “Second page,” he told me and our eyes held fast. I enjoyed being with him far, far too much, thinking of Clark’s words my first Friday at their house. How I should be Case’s friend, but nothing more.

  But how do I stop it from being nothing more?

  What if I don’t want it to stop?

  He added, “I’d order you the nine-ouncer. With mushrooms, that’s the best. I mean, if you like mushrooms.”

  “I do,” I said.

  “And it comes with a side of fried onion. They carve it into a little flower and then deep-fry it,” he said, and our eyes were speaking so much more than our lips. I thought of the way my old roommates would joke about ‘eye-fucking’ someone at the bar. I always thought it was a stupid expression, but that was exactly what Case and I were doing right now. Just exactly.

  “It sounds too pretty to eat,” I said, all breathless and shivery. His eyes tracked to my mouth and lingered there for a moment.

  “You have a little bit of mozzarella…” he said, indicating my top lip by touching his own.

  “Dammit,” I muttered and Case’s smile widened. I said, “I’ll be right back,” and jumped up to hit the ladies’ room.

  I threaded through the growing crowd, noticing that I was appropriately dressed for the bar, although most of the women were wearing slightly sexier clothing than me. I found the bathroom and ducked inside to do a quick check – I swiped the sticky cheese from my lip and quickly finger-combed my hair, which was wild in the humidity in here, to say the least. I wished I was wearing my red-and-black tank top that showed off my cleavage.

  Why, Tish? To what end?

  Remember, you’re leaving this place at the end of summer.

  Shit, sooner than that – in two days for the bar exam.

  I studied my eyes in the mirror, somberly. Maybe being back in Chicago would return me to my senses, remind me what I had been working for since I was eighteen years old and starting college.

  Oh God…

  I shoved out of the bathroom door and hurried through the crowd then, hurried to get back to Case; only the unfortunate sight of someone I recognized, elbowed up to the bar, slowed my pace a fraction.

  Shit, he saw you.

  Derrick was perched on a stool, a highball glass near his hands. He caught sight of me and I could tell he hadn’t anticipated seeing me here, because his shoulders straightened and he actually appeared somewhat startled before his natural arrogance reasserted itself. He narrowed his eyes but then nodded at the empty bar stool nearest him. I turned away without further acknowledgment, recalling that Al had said Derrick stayed in a hotel in Miles City; though, to be fair, there wasn’t a hotel within Jalesville city limits, only the old campground that had already been a score for Capital Overland.

  I got back to our table and slid into my seat; Garth and Marsh were talking with a guy who was standing between their chairs. Case had been listening but he watched me take my seat and said, “You got all of it.”

  “Case,” I said, leaning over the table.

  The teasing fell from his face as he saw that I appeared concerned, and he leaned towards me too.

  “Yancy is here, at the bar,” I told him.

  Case looked that way for an instant, then back to my eyes. He said, “Call me crazy, but this doesn’t seem like the kind of place that he’d hang out.”

  “That’s what I was thinking,” I said. “He nodded for me to join him,” and at this I shuddered inadvertently.

  I saw the way Case’s jaw tightened at this news, though he didn’t react in any other way. Instead he said, “We play in about a half hour, but we’ll situate you right by the stage, and Wy will sit with you.”

  He was thinking of ways to protect me (though I honestly didn’t feel overtly fearful of Derrick) and it made my heart swell and sing inside my chest. I said, changing the subject a little, “I can’t wait to hear you play again.”

  “Tell me what you want to hear, we’ll play it,” he said softly.

  “Your song,” I said at once. “The one you played at The Spoke last week.”

  Case was totally still, almost
as though he was holding his breath. He studied me intently and there were several things I sensed he wanted to say, but didn’t. Finally he said, “I need the fiddle to play that one right. Next time we’re around the fire, I promise.”

  “It’s a deal,” I agreed.

  The rest of the food arrived then and the conversation swelled to include everyone once more, Marsh and Wy vying for attention, Garth telling Case that they better eat fast and make sure their amps were ready to go. I kept stealing long looks at Case, just across from me; he took off his hat before eating and I curled my fingers into my palms to keep from reaching to stroke his red-gold hair. If I was someone who prayed, I would pray to Melinda Spicer, his sweet mother, to thank her for the man before me. Again I felt pain, actual pain, at these thoughts. As though in the past two weeks, life had punched me hard in the chest, repeatedly.

  “C’mon, Tish, these guys gotta get ready. We can sit and have dessert if you want though,” Wy told me amiably after we’d finished eating. “Hey, did you like the elk steak?”

  In truth, I hadn’t been able to eat much of it, my stomach in little hard knots of confusion, but I said, “Yes, it was delicious.”

  Case walked close behind me as we all cut back through the bar, and once I felt his hand gently upon my lower back, as though to guide me as we maneuvered through the crowd, sending a spasm of sparks across my body. I stalled, leaning into his light touch; it was so packed with people that it wasn’t an obvious ploy for him to keep touching me. But he did and I could have died it felt so good, his warm, strong hand that pressed just a little more firmly now.

  I couldn’t see his eyes, as he was behind me, but I imagined how he looked as he stroked me ever so gently, his fingers curling around the material of my t-shirt, his thumb moving slowly up and then down, the way he’d stroked my leg last night. I couldn’t breathe. The crowd shifted enough that I couldn’t remain standing still and Case let his hand move back to his side. My knees were actually weak. I thought of how I had knelt on his bed last night. How I had licked his pillow and probably left behind my earring.

  “We’re over here,” Case said, tipping near my left ear to tell me.

  In the bar the tables were jammed with people; two men with black bandanas were running cords on stage. The Rawleys claimed a small table that was obviously reserved for us.

  “You’ll be all right here?” Case asked, still close behind me, and I turned enough to see his eyes. My heart absolutely shredded at the sight of him, going all to pieces; he appeared somber and intent, studying me from beneath his hat brim. If I was brave enough, I could have stood on tiptoe and put my arms right around his neck.

  I nodded wordlessly and he stunned me by reaching and tucking a stray strand of hair, a loose curl, from the side of my forehead to behind my right ear. He let his fingertips just scarcely trace my jaw as he lowered his hand, and my knees did give out then; luckily for me, I was in the proximity of a chair.

  “Tish!” Wy plopped near me as Case, Garth and Marsh carried their guitars up onto the stage. The boy said excitedly, “You wanna get some dessert?”

  “Sure,” I said, not even having heard exactly what he’d asked; I was too busy watching Case as he extracted a dark blue electric guitar from its case and proceeded to hook it up to the proper cords, so efficiently, something he’d done hundreds of times, probably. All this time he’d been out here, living his life and I’d been living mine, back in Illinois. I wanted to chase myself back through those years and shake the shit out of the old me, the girl from Camille’s wedding who had been so selfish and so cold. One of the guys in a black bandana was saying something that made Case laugh, and my heart again felt as though it was leaking something vital.

  “Another drink?” asked the redheaded server. She leaned closer to Wy and me and nodded towards Marsh as he settled on the stool behind the drums, joking with Garth about something. She asked, “Is he your brother?”

  Wy and I said, “Yes,” at the same time, and Wy grinned at my lie.

  “What’s his name?”

  “Marshall,” I told her.

  “He’s so hot,” she said.

  “He thinks so too,” Wy said, and she giggled.

  “He’s totally single,” I added, helpfully.

  “Your next round’s on me,” she said. “Sara. Nice to meet you.”

  Just like last night, Case would send me a look every so often, a sweet and private look that I felt to the depths of my soul. I sipped my free beer and watched him right back, taking in every last detail; he was careful and loving with his instruments, just as he was with his horses. Tender touches on everything, his big hands with their long and knowing fingers that could tune a guitar just as effortlessly as he could saddle a horse, or pluck sage from the brush in the foothills, or tuck hair behind my ear.

  His hair glinted under the bar lights, which also played over the angles of his face; he’d left his hat at the table and it was currently on the chair to my right, where I could reach over and put my fingertips on it, which I kept doing. He looked so damn sexy, tall and lean, his shoulders so wide, his unconsciously graceful movements, powerful and graceful at once. He seemed to have finished his ministrations on the guitar and sent me another look, smiling sweetly at me. I felt an answering smile move directly over my face.

  The guys in bandanas finished up their work on the stage and jogged down the steps, back to the floor. Marsh settled behind the drums while Garth and Case took positions near the two floor mics, their electric guitars held near their hips. So totally sexy. The crowd rumbled and then a few cheers turned into a round of excited applause. I noticed for the first time that I recognized people from Jalesville here and there, before my eyes went straight back to Case, cradling his gleaming, dark blue instrument.

  “Hi folks, how’re you doing this fine evening?” Garth asked. There were raucous whoops and cheers, and he said, “Fuck yeah.”

  “We love you!” called a woman, and Garth grinned and then winked at her; all the Rawley boys had good winks.

  “I came out of retirement, just for tonight,” Garth said. “And it feels pretty damn good.” There were more cheers at this, louder than before, and Garth ordered, “So don’t fucking disappoint me. I want to see asses on the dance floor, people.”

  And with that he led the guitar into the first few bars of “Welcome to the Jungle,” while the crowd went insane. Marsh was wild on the drums and Case tipped his chin, lashes lowered, the bar lights flickering over his handsome face, completely overtaken in the music as his fingers curved and flew to make music, keeping time with his wide shoulders, as though unconsciously, stroking that electric guitar like it was a woman he could not touch enough…

  Oh God, look at him. Oh my God. I can’t handle it. I just plain can’t handle it.

  Sometimes when I looked at him the absolute only thing I could think of was how he came to me in my dreams at night, his mouth on my breasts, hot and luscious on my skin, bringing me to orgasm in my sleep. And right now was one of those times. Clutching my icy beer bottle by the neck, I held it to the side of my own and struggled for composure. If I had even one more sip, I would lose my tentative hold on my inhibitions and rush the stage.

  After the first song they were laughing, the crowd hot for more; there were plenty of women stalking the stage, I noticed, and felt my fingers become talons. The three of them played and sang with such joy, effortlessly, leading from one rock song to the next, and I could not tear my eyes from Case; he returned my looks every so often, smiling with his eyes, as though to reassure me that everything was all right.

  Later, as they led into “Wanted Dead or Alive,” he sent me a longer look, a hint of a smile on his lips. And suddenly everything else in the crowded, busy, chaotic bar faded to a gray haze in the distance, receded to nothing; all I could see was Case, his eyes, his eyes intense upon mine, re-forging a connection that had always been there, broiling just beneath the surface. Thoughts and images suddenly shattered through me, sharp
as broken glass.

  I’ve known you. I’ve known you far beyond this place and this time…

  I know this. I can’t explain it, but I know it.

  I saw him on horseback then, but under the blazing sun, his beautiful hair afire with sparks before he resettled his hat. Looking back over his shoulder at me, where I sat high atop a wagon seat, distant from him.

  Come to me, I’ll wait for you beyond the horses, he whispered in my ear, in a moment we risked stealing, kissing my neck, my lips, my breasts through the layers of my gown. I clung to him as hard as I could. My wedding band caught the sun and glinted, while the very air around us crackled with heat. His strong hands were gliding up my legs, beneath my long, heavy skirts. There was an urgency that I could sense before I understood.

  I will not risk it, I told him intently. I will not put you in danger…

  If we were caught they would kill us, this I knew. Or, far worse, they would kill him to punish me.

  I will protect you, he told me, his hands in my hair, upon my face, clutching my hips. I swear to you. Please, come to me, I will not live through another night without you…

  I will, I promised, unable to deny him, scarcely able to breathe. Oh God, I will come to you…

  I blinked and felt myself reel, returned abruptly from the prairie in my mind to the crowded, noisy barroom; I rose too quickly and told Wy, “I’m going to the bathroom.”

  I sensed Case still watching me, worried, as I made my way through the crowd and I looked back at him.

  It’s all right, I told him with my eyes. I just need a second…

  In the bathroom for the second time, I bent over the sink and splashed my face with icy water. Some dripped down the neck of my t-shirt and I let the cold of it shock my senses into something resembling reason.

  What the hell?

  What in the hell was that? Am I going crazy?

  I drew a deep breath and knew longing. Knew need. Knew these things to the interiors of my bones.

  Case. Oh God, Case…

  We have belonged to each other before now…

  I realized that I could not stay in here, hiding out; as though to emphasize the point, a toilet flushed. I startled at the sound and pushed back out the door, my hands shaking a little. And almost immediately a voice beside me asked conversationally, “Are you dating him then? Or just fucking him?”