by Lacey Black
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I say, lacking any conviction at all.
“Probably not, but it beats the hell out of eating dinner alone. And it would give us a chance to catch up. You know, two old friends talking about what’s happened in our lives and all that.”
And as if I were just doused with a bucket of cold water, his words permeate the fog that he creates.
Friends.
Brandon isn’t asking me out. He’s being polite. Obviously, he doesn’t have a date, which must be rare for a man like him. In fact, he’s so unused to the fact that he’s alone this evening that he’s willing to ask his old girlfriend, the one who hates his guts and sentenced him to community service doing the one thing he hates in this world, to hang out with him for a bit. I don’t know who I pity more: him or me.
Me. Definitely me.
Because I was actually considering it.
“Actually, I have somewhere I need to be.”
“Where?” he challenges.
“Nowhere.”
“Are you blowing me off, No?” he asks, stepping forward and invading my personal space once more.
“No, I just don’t think that us getting together to reminisce is that great of an idea. We ended for a reason, right? No need to pretend to be interested in what the other’s been up to. If that were the case, one of us would have contacted the other way before now.”
Brandon nods his head slowly, the slightest sadness filling his hazel eyes. “I guess you’re right.”
“Of course I am. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say, the words getting stuck in my throat for some crazy reason.
“Tomorrow,” he confirms, stepping aside and allowing me to pass.
I don’t head to the Chinese restaurant for food, but instead slide into my car and drive home on autopilot. Even the constant Christmas carols do nothing to pick up my dark mood.
Why pretend we’re friends? We’re not friends. We’re not anything. We’re two people who used to love each other as if we were the only two people in the world. We used to wrap ourselves in each other’s arms. We used to give each other our hearts, and bodies. Two people who had it all, only to lose it just as quickly.
Now, we’re two strangers.
And I’ve never felt so alone.
Chapter Nine
Sleepless Nights & Red Lace
Brandon
I didn’t sleep for shit.
Not a wink.
I kept replaying her words over and over until I was ready to throw punches and chase them with whiskey. Of all the words she’s said over the last few weeks, nothing has stuck with me like these.
One of us would have contacted the other way before now.
If she only knew how many times I picked up the phone, only to put it back down again without letting the call connect. Or how about the times I stood on the opposite side of her apartment door, my hand raised and ready to knock, just to realize she was better off without me.
Only…what if she wasn’t?
Having her here, in Springfield, is doing a number on me. I should let her be, move on with my life, but you know what? I. Can’t. My heart remembers every beat, my fingers recall every touch, my mind recollects every moment we were together. And even though I should walk away, I fucking can’t.
I won’t.
Not this time.
This time, things will be different. This time around, I won’t walk away. I won’t lie to her, because when I told her I didn’t want what she wanted, that was a lie. Because I wanted her. Her dreams, her happiness, her future. I wanted that, and yet I let it go.
But that stops today.
I’ll start with an apology. An apology that is five fucking years too late. I’ll erase every bit of hurt that clouds her blue eyes and replace it with laughter. That’s my purpose in this world. I realized it at three a.m. this morning when I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t stop thinking about her. Even when Coletta showed up at my door last night, wanting the one thing I’ve always been able to offer without messy strings, I thought of Noel. That’s why I politely declined and sent her on her way.
My Noel.
It’s time to man the fuck up and fight. Even if the end result is her walking away, unable to forgive me, I will fight. Because sometimes in life, that’s all you have. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to lie down or walk away like the asshole I was before.
It’s time to fight for my girl.
* * *
I’m early when I arrive at the community center on Saturday morning. Not only do I have a tall, very strong, very black coffee from the local coffee house, but I have one of those frothy girly minty drinks with candy cane sprinkles on the top. It’s right up her alley.
When she finally arrives a few minutes late, she appears just as tired as me. “Long night?” I ask, smiling as I extend the hand holding her fancy coffee beverage.
“Uhhh, I stayed up way too late reading the book. But it just got so good, and I kept telling myself one more chapter. Next thing I knew, it was three a.m. and the book was finished.” She doesn’t even fight it, just takes the drink in both hands and swallows. Then she smiles…and moans. She fucking moans loud enough that my dick hears, waking up from my self-imposed hibernation, and standing painfully at attention in my jeans.
“Uhhhh, which one?”
“Which one?”
“Books. Which one did you read?” I ask, walking beside her as we make our way to the offices we’re using as dressing rooms.
Noel glances down at her drink, but I can still see the blush that creeps up her cheeks. “The old flames one.”
“Ahhh, yes. The former lovers who find themselves thrown into an impossible situation, which essentially rekindles their love.”
“You’ve read it?” she asks, her eyebrows arching and disappearing behind wayward loose blonde curls.
“No, but I got the gist of it from the back cover.”
Noel stops outside the door she’s been changing in, and part of me (the part that’s just south of the belt) wants to accompany her inside. “Thank you for this. I love peppermint.”
“I know,” I say, leaning forward and inhaling. (Her perfume, not the peppermint.) “I remember.”
Her ocean blue eyes hold mine for several heartbeats and I start to wonder if she’s going to say something. Too quickly, the connection is broken and she slips inside the room. But before the door closes completely, our gazes connect once more and I feel it clear down to my toes. Her smile is timid, but there nonetheless.
Hope buds in my chest.
When the door finally closes, I head into the office to change. The suit is regularly dry cleaned, which I’m more than grateful for. I’ve had more pee and drool on me in the last few weeks than I have in my entire life. Yet it doesn’t freak me out the way it normally does. Instead, I smile as I slip into the freshly cleaned suit, transforming myself into the big guy from the North Pole.
And all I can think about is Mrs. Claus…
* * *
I’ll call it progress that Mrs. Claus sat at the same table as I did during the luncheon. I mean, even if she was at the other end of the long eight-foot table, at least she didn’t sit across the room, throwing hateful subliminal messaging through the air, disguising them as Christmas carols.
We’ve been going for about fifteen minutes when little Johnny comes up and climbs on my lap. He’s a weird shade of gray, with bright pink cheeks, and his appearance has me a little concerned. I’m not in tune with the particulars of a sick kid, but red warning flags are waving.
“Are you okay, little dude?” I ask, again, completely forgetting my Santa voice.
Instead of answering, the boy gives me a short little head nod. I mean, it could be that he’s just overly excited to be here, but something tells me that’s not the case. Noel must sense my worry, and steps forward and crouches down beside the little guy.
“Hi, there. My name is Mrs. Claus. What�
�s yours?”
“Johnny.”
“Johnny, are you feeling alright today? Does your belly hurt?” she asks, reaching forward and placing her hand on his forehead in what I would consider a motherly way.
Little Johnny nods his head, and before anyone can say anything else, the little puker vomits all over the front of Mrs. Claus’s dress. “Holy shit!” I exclaim, surprised that such a large amount of brown nastiness could spew from such a little body.
“Oh no!” a woman exclaims, rushing forward and grabbing the little boy from my lap. “I can’t believe you said that!” she scolds, her heated eyes turned directly at me. Of course she’d focus on my little slip of the tongue, and not the fact that her son just upchucked all over my wife.
Well, not wife…
You know what I mean.
“I can’t believe you brought a sick kid to visit Santa,” I retort, angry at the situation, yet embarrassingly glad it was Noel who was vomited on and not me. Yes, I know, I’m totally a Scroogey douche, but I don’t do vomit, okay?
I instantly stand up to help Noel, but am struck silent when I realize that, despite being covered in kid puke, she’s gazing at the little guy and offering a warm smile. “It’s okay, Johnny. Go home and get some rest so you’re feeling better for Christmas on Tuesday. I hope your tummy feels better soon,” she says softly. I’m reminded of how much of a genuinely amazing person Noel Winters is. Instead of lashing out like me, she embraces the situation, and still smiles.
“There’s another costume in the closet in your room. Why don’t you go get cleaned up quickly, and we’ll work on the mess here,” Sheila whispers, suddenly at my side with towels and a bottle of some sort of magic puke cleaner.
I stand back while the volunteers get to work on tidying up the Santa area. There’s not much I can do, so I opt to take a few moments to go check on Noel. It doesn’t take me long to make it to the room she has been getting ready in. I throw a quick knock on the door, and without waiting for a reply, push it open and enter.
And stop dead in my tracks.
Noel’s very wide, very blue eyes are staring straight at me, her mouth hanging open. She may even be talking to me (or yelling), but all I see is the vision in red. No, not the Mrs. Claus costume she had been wearing, but what she has been apparently hiding beneath it! Red lace, and very little of it. My tongue is dangling from my mouth, and I’m pretty sure I’m drooling. My Noel is standing before me, wearing a tiny little red bra and panty set, that I’m pretty sure I’m going to be jacking off to memories of, later this evening.
“Get out,” she demands, probably not for the first time.
“I can’t. My legs won’t work,” I whisper honestly, my eyes feasting on the smooth skin all the way down to her toes.
“You’re such a man,” she says, drawing my attention back up to her face where I catch her rolling her eyes. It’s then that I really get a good look at the woman she has become. The gorgeous, flawless, beautiful woman I let go.
“Definitely a man,” I confirm, offering her a small smile. Clearing my throat, I do everything I can not to glance back down at her sinful body. “Do you need anything?” I ask, keeping my eyes trained on her face.
Don’t look down…don’t look down.
“You mean besides you to leave this room? Which apparently, you’re not doing because I’ve asked you three times and you’ve acted like you didn’t hear me. So if you’re going to stay in here, at least grab the new dress from the closet,” she quips before turning and walking over to the small sink.
And, that’s when I get a glimpse of her ass. Oh sweet mother of Christmas spirit, she’s wearing a thong. A beautiful little scrap of red lace that disappears between the globes of her amazing ass cheeks.
“Stop looking at my ass and get me the dress, Satan,” she demands before turning on the water, and washing her hands and arms.
Being the total guy that I am, I manage to keep my eyes glued to her ass while retrieving the other Mrs. Claus dress from the closet, and it’s a sight I’ll remember until my deathbed. If the front view was totally spank-bank material, the back view is downright deadly. Her ass is perfection.
With the new dress in hand, I head over to the sink; towards the half-naked woman who I wouldn’t mind seeing completely nude. But I keep my eyes focused on her reflection as I step up behind her. I’m close enough to touch, and my fingers are tingling like a man who was just shocked by faulty Christmas lights.
When her eyes meet mine in the mirror, her breathing halts and her eyes dilate. My front is so close to her back that my hard-on could reach out and touch her. And damn, does it want to do just that.
Our gazes remain locked for what feels like an hour. I’m lost in the lustful haze clouding her eyes, staring at the only woman I’ve ever loved. The woman I lost.
But not anymore.
Not if I can help it.
She turns to face me, mouth opening to speak, when I do the only thing I can think of, the one thing I’ve wanted to do for weeks. I kiss her.
My lips practically rejoice as they connect with hers for the first time in too damn long. Noel is clearly shocked, but it only takes her a moment to catch up. Her lips start to move, following along in the gentle slow dance of the kiss. Oh, this perfectly amazing fucking kiss. She tastes exactly as I remember as her warm, soft lips move in sync with my own.
And when my tongue slides into her mouth and tangles with her own?
Fucking heaven.
I wrap my hands around her waist, savoring the feel of her smooth, velvety skin. She steps closer, or I give her a little tug, I’m not sure, but when our bodies collide, I’m lost. Lost in the feel of her, the taste of her, the smell of her. I’m consumed in the best possible way.
Noel’s hands slide from my neck up and into my hair. My body responds exactly as it used to every time she did the exact same thing. She tugs gently on the locks fisted in her hands, while our mouths duel for control. My No was always a possessive and feisty little thing, that fact very much still evident in the way she kisses.
She pulls my hair and I can’t control the groan of pure ecstasy that slips from my mouth. My hands tighten around her waist before slowly traveling southbound to where that little scrap of red covers her sweet pussy. It’s like an electric shock to my system when my fingers slide along the top of those panties. I don’t wait long before they dip inside and come in contact with wet skin.
“Jesus, No,” I groan, ready to drive my fingers into her wetness.
But her body tenses, and not in the good way.
As if a cold bucket of ice water was dumped on us, she pulls back, breaking the connection of our lips. When I open my eyes, it bothers me to find hers so wide with shock. Sure, the lust is still there, but it’s been buried alive by something ugly and hurtful.
Anger.
“What are you doing?” she asks breathlessly.
My brain refuses to work. All I can think about is getting an up close and personal look at the heaven my hand is still touching. You know, the hand that’s still down the front of her red thong?
“This isn’t going to happen,” she bites, pushing me gently on both shoulders and effectively breaking all contact I have with her body.
“Why not?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.
Because I hate you. Because I want to run you over with Santa’s sleigh. Because I’d rather kiss a Tyrannosaurus Rex who hasn’t eaten in days than you. Those are all the answers I expect, the ones I’m prepared for. I’m not prepared for the one she gives, nor the tears that accompany it.
“Because it hurts too much.” The words are spoken softly, the vulnerability in them noticed. They’re like a reindeer kick to the gut, the head, and the balls…at the same time. It’s the first time I see the slip in armor. She’s been tough, with a lethal tongue, since the moment she stepped into the same courtroom.
But what I see now isn’t toughness. It isn’t stubbornn
ess.
It’s fear. It’s hurt. It’s anguish.
“Can you hand me the dress?” she asks, her eyes trained down on the floor.
Without saying a word, I bend down and collect the red outfit that was haphazardly disregarded the moment my mouth attacked hers. Noel’s eyes remain locked on the ground as she blindly reaches for the dress. She holds it to her chest as if it’s some sort of shield. That action alone makes me feel like an even bigger pile of reindeer crap.
When her eyes finally glance up, it’s another punch to the stomach. The tears remain in her once-bright blue eyes. They’re filled with sadness and so many layers of hurt that it steals my very breath.
Without saying a word, I turn to give her privacy. There are so many things I want to say – no, need to say – but know that this isn’t the time nor place. Everyone out in the auditorium is waiting on us, and even though talking to Noel and apologizing for the damage I had done is a top priority, it’ll have to wait.
At least for another hour and a half.
So instead of saying the things I should, I exit the room to give her space. Even though my arms are begging to hold her once more, I know that there’s one thing that needs to be done before she’ll even consider allowing me to do that one more time.
Apologize.
And pray she’ll eventually be able to forgive me.
Chapter Ten
Fa La La La La
Noel
I’m shaking so badly that I’m not even sure how I get the dress on. My reaction stems from the fact that I’m completely mad at myself right now. I can’t blame Brandon. Even though I’d love to blame him for everything, including the fact that it rained on my birthday last year, but I’m more upset at myself than anyone.