Keeping It: A Navy SEAL meets Virgin Romance

by Rachel Robinson

  “I’m having a good time with my friends, Caroline. I’m not saying I can canoe drunk because I’m drunk, I’m saying I can kick their asses in a canoe race because I can.”

  Biting her lip, she crosses one leg over the other at the ankle. “Whatever. Go have a fun time treading water completely annihilated. If that doesn’t sound like a fun time, I don’t know what does.”

  “You have a better idea for a fun time?” I crow back, stepping toward her. I can smell her shampoo, and the soft hint of laundry detergent. “Let’s go back to the truck and talk. That’s what you want to do? Talk?”

  Under the blue hue of the moon I see her flesh prick with goose bumps. Caroline’s chest rises and falls, and her pouty lips separate. She’s weighing the cost of her answer. Her eyes flash with the decision. “Fine. Let’s go talk.”

  I step in the exact place she does as I follow her back across the street to the parking lot. There’s no need to lock my hunk of junk, so she cranks open the door slides in and then waits for me to climb in after her. I grasp the oh shit handle and use it more than I should so it breaks off in my hand. I toss it to the floor board and she watches it with wide eyes.

  “I’m not an idiot, Caroline. I’m still going to race canoes regardless of what you want. My brothers are down there. They’ll wait for me. So, what did you want to talk about here? In the private seclusion of my grand truck cab?” My words slur together and I realize how it affects my case. I lean over and kiss her shoulder. Her face remains straight ahead, but even drunk Tahoe affects this woman. The pout of her lips, the way her eyes blink slower when she’s turned on. Scooting closer I place my lips against her neck and drag them side to side.

  She pulls away, trying to keep her composure. “You’re angry,” I say.

  The tilt of her chin tips up a touch. “You’re being irrational. Pardon me for not wanting to delve into the drunk tank with you, Tyler.”

  “Oh, Tyler? Burn,” I say, grinning. My dick hardens. “Tell me something.”

  “What?” She looks at me. A mistake she’ll pay for.

  “I’m finished waiting. I want you right now.” The words slip—my true feelings blaring louder than any rational decisions.

  “That’s not a question,” she replies, folding her hands in her lap. She plays with the material of her dress, twisting it between two fingers.

  I swallow hard. Remembering what she looks like under that dress gives me all the ammo I’ll ever need to get hard. Caroline was made for me in every conceivable way. “In this truck. In this parking lot. Across the street from all of those people.”

  “Are you sure?” She narrows her eyes, and her mouth turns down in the corner. “After all of this time, and all of your rules? When you’re being a complete drunk asshole? You pick now?” Something about the way she insults me and swears flips the goddamn switch. The one usually reserved for when I need to be a monster. Maybe because she’s right and subconsciously I know that. Maybe it’s because I’m the best person I know at ruining a good thing. Perhaps it’s a mixture of the two sparked with bourbon, but I grab her wrists and pin her back against the seat, trying and probably failing at keeping my weight off her. Between her legs, I settle my hips. My head spins and my stomach flips, because for as drunk as I am, I still know exactly what is about to happen. Leaning down, I chase her lips.

  Caroline swallows hard, turns her head away, the pulse at her neck hammering against my lips. “Stop being a cunt,” I rasp into her ear. “I am not a drunk asshole. I fucking love you.” I reach between our bodies and unbutton and unzip my pants. “I love you so fucking much that you’re making me insane.”

  She whimpers, and the noise breaks my fiery haze of desire. Pushing up on my arms I stare down at her and see the stray tear lingering on her cheek. The moon provides the right amount of light to reveal the travesty. “Are you crying?” I blurt out.

  “Will you at least kiss me?” she says, words jagged, wiping under her eyes.

  My heart starts pounding out of my chest. The adrenaline and realization mixing in that horrific kind of way. “Kiss you?”

  She nods her head furiously. “Tahoe,” she whispers. “I’m a virgin.”

  If there were words that could have sent me running, those are the words. “What the fuck?”

  Caroline sits up and scoots away from me, wrapping her body with her arms. “I thought you knew,” she says, sniffling once.

  I run a hand through my hair as her words sober me faster than anything in the history of time. I basically just mounted her. A woman I’m in love with, a virgin on top of that, in a dirty parking lot. “Why didn’t you tell me before? You know what they say about assumptions?”

  She cries and my heart breaks. “You wanted to wait. I figured it was because you knew. It was too quick tonight. And you’re so drunk. I’m sorry. I panicked. I should have just gone with it.”

  “You’re sorry? You’re sorry? I just tried to fuck you in this disgusting truck!” I roar. “I knew you were innocent, but fuck, Caroline. I thought it was an act or something.” I shake my head. All of the encounters come to mind as I’m reminded that it should have been obvious, but my judgement is always clouded when it comes to her. “I didn’t know virgins your age existed.” Especially beautiful fucking ones. Her wide gaze flicks over me, judging me. If I could disappear right now and never come back, I would.

  “Everyone told me not to tell you. That it was a non-issue. At first it was a non-issue. We were friends. Then when things changed, too much time had passed and I thought maybe you might think of me differently if you knew I hadn’t slept with a man before.” She’s right. I would have. I probably would have run as far and as fast as possible if she was honest about that up front. I’m the type of man you fuck before you find Mr. Right. I’m okay with that. I’m the man that you tell your friends about because he does a cool trick with his tongue in bed. I’m not the fucking man to take your virginity. That impression lasts too long. Being embedded in anyone’s mind longer than a little while is scary. Impressionable. As I look at Caroline, I realize what I need to do regardless of how I feel. Because it’s the right thing to do.

  My stomach is a steel trap, I never vomit. Right now? It flips so fucking hard I barely get the door open before spilling the alcoholic contents all over the ground. I open the glove compartment and hunt for napkins to wipe my mouth. This would be a tough conversation to have sober. Drunk? Implausible. I realize it now, that her pure innocence is what made her different, kept me interested, and I open the door to heave once more. At least I won’t have a hangover tomorrow. Not from alcohol at least.

  “You called me a cunt,” she says.

  I nod. “I’m sorry.” That’s the least of my offenses at this point, right? Still, my stomach flips at the reminder of my cruelty. There are moments in your life where you can’t see the future because it hangs in the balance of whatever you say or do next. That moment for Caroline and me is right now. It’s a real shame because it’s not just her and me. There’s also fuckers named bourbon, and keg beer here too.

  Several seconds pass as I stare out into the moonlit field. “Say something,” she whispers.

  “What the fuck am I supposed to say? That I almost stole your innocence with angry drunk fucking? That I never thought for one moment to make love to you? That I’m sorry? Nothing I could say would take that back or make it seem genuine. Not right now, when the world is spinning and you’re sitting over there afraid of me.” She is afraid, too. The combination of my messed up eyes and my actions have created the perfect villain. One that in the movies would fuck her and leave her crying—never looking back.

  She pulls her knees into her chest and something in that deep cavernous place that lays dank and dormant, comes to life. “You should have told me.”

  “What difference would it make?” she asks. “If you take my virginity here or in a bed? It’s all the same to me. From the second I met you I knew I wanted it to be you.”

  Shaking my head, I
let out a bitter laugh. “You don’t want it to be me. This right here is testament.” Gesturing to the truck cab, my face, and then to her timid, shaking body.

  Caroline presses her lips together. “Let’s do it right now. It’s going to be you, Tahoe. Why not right now?” Instead of rattling off the many reasons I won’t, I think about how I missed the signs. Dwell on mistakes. That’s what type A folks do. It’s how we better ourselves regardless of cost.

  “Have you messed around with a guy before me?” I can’t help the question. It’s typically one my pride would never let me ask. Now, I need to connect the dots and I require her responses to help ease this pain.

  She stays silent. “Have you kissed a man before me?” I ask, my voice cracking.

  Caroline doesn’t say a word. I swallow down the disbelief. “I’m getting the fuck out of here before I take anything else from you, Caroline. I’ll catch a ride home with someone else. Take my truck and go home.”

  Her defiant reply comes, “No.”

  “I’ve taken a lot of things in my lifetime. I can’t be the one to take this from you. I don’t deserve it. You deserve someone who can give you the world—at the very least someone who can offer you a promise for a bright future.” My future will sometimes involve trudging through gutters and subway tracks hunting bad people. When you juxtapose me next to her, I can’t understand how I could have been so blinded by our differences. Love. I was blinded by it. By the thought that maybe I deserved it. Could keep it. There was never any keeping it. Not in my world. There’s only losing it slowly. Piece by piece. She’s still whole–intact. I have to respect that.

  Her jaw ticks. “Don’t tell me what I want,” she says. “You live in this insane utopia where you think everything needs to be perfect. Maybe I don’t want perfect. Maybe I want to lose my virginity to you, drunk, in this truck. Maybe nothing else matters because I’m in love with you. Even despite you being completely out of your mind right now.” What did I almost do? How did this happen? “Fine, if not tonight. Let’s talk about this tomorrow when you’re in your right mind.” Her voice sounds desperate and it calls out my need to protect her. I can’t protect her from this monster. I am what she needs protecting from.

  With my hand on the handle, I survey my feelings using the part of my fuzzy brain that isn’t completely wrecked by alcohol. “I’m not the man for that job. Never will be,” I shake my head once. “Get home safe, alright?”

  “Fuck you, Tyler Holiday. You really are an idiot!”

  Gritting my teeth, I open the door and fall out. Blessedly landing on my feet in the pile of my own puke. My chest stings, and there’s no way I can look at her right now. Turning around to survey what I’ve done would only drive the nail into my chest deeper—create more empty space, where she is. Where nothing else will ever be.

  I close the door on her loud sob and trudge back to find someone to give me a ride home.

  And another bottle of something to replace what I just lost.

  This is one of my seconds. The seconds that change everything. The lonely, taking ones that will keep me company for the rest of my life.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Caroline

  The thunder rolls, shaking the hangar all night long. In true Florida fashion, the storm hit unannounced on my drive home from the spot. I didn’t want to follow his instructions, but my options were zilch. I didn’t want to see him drown in a canoe. I also didn’t want to face my peers with the strings of heartbreak searing like shackles around every limb. It’s all my fault. This is what men expect, and I was too scared to go with it. He was out of his mind drunk, and if he’d been a little more himself I would have had sex with him in that tiny cramped, smelly space.

  I called Shirley on the way home and she confirmed I shouldn’t have told him. Or waited until after. Even though that would have made it worse, she doesn’t understand how Tahoe operates. This desire to perfect things he has no control over. Everything was exacerbated by the fact that he was drinking with his buddies in this odd environment that I was an outsider in.

  I am delicate. He is a storm. Carnage was inevitable.

  When the clock finally clicks to 5 a.m. I sigh in relief. I gave myself permission to a night filled with tears and feeling sorry, but now it’s a new day and I have a shift at the diner. A master at hiding my emotions, I’m ready to put on a happy face.

  I shower last night’s mistakes and regrets from my body, letting the water scorch my body to a needling red color, and dress in the familiar, soft uniform my mom tailored to fit me perfectly. As I stare at my reflection, I tie my wet hair into a bun on top of my head and debate covering the dark circles haunting my under eyes. I decide to leave them there and make great time getting to work.

  Everyone stares, the news from last night already trickling around the town like a lively case of bed bugs. Who knows what these people actually think they know. A lie. The truth. It doesn’t matter. Not anymore. I’m numb to anything except what has always brought me happiness and comfort. The known entities.

  I serve my usual customers at the bar, remembering their orders, filling coffee cups, and pretending better than I ever have.

  “You doing okay today, Caroline May?” Bob asks. Maybe he’s too old to be in the gossip loop.

  I smile wide. “Of course. It’s a beautiful day,” I reply. Then I remember how wet and gross it is outside right now from the torrential downpour last night.

  The smile he returns is sad. “You working by yourself this morning?”

  Raising my brows, I nod. “Giving Mama a break this morning.” And Shirley, who is probably just now waking up in someone else’s bed. After a night filled with what I couldn’t bring myself to do once.

  Caleb coughs from behind me in the kitchen. I’ve kept interaction with him to the bare, professional minimum. “Ketchup with your hash browns,” I say, setting the bottle in front of his plate. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

  Bob winks at me, and I head over to a few of my other tables—all men, stopping in for an early breakfast before work. One tries to engage me in conversation. He asks me about my seashell bracelet, and smiles too wide as he listens to my curt reply.

  I know what hides behind that smile. The lies. The games. I cut him off, “If you need anything else just let me know.”

  His false grin falls. I walk away knowing I’ll never feel the same way about a man again. As if my thoughts alone could conjure him, Tahoe walks in, the bell jingling like a death sentence. A few of his teammates follow in behind him. His piercing blue-red gaze finds me immediately. The pain is etched in every feature—the guilt plainly visible.

  Regardless, my pulse quickens and my whole body electrifies. “Take any seat,” I call over to them as I head back to the kitchen. As I pass Tahoe I say, “You’re alive. Fantastic.”

  I don’t look at him or wait for a response.

  “I told you so,” Caleb says as he pushes a plate through the window. His cocky grin boils my blood.

  “Fuck you, Caleb.” I grab the plate and spin on my heel.

  Caleb doesn’t respond, but when I glance at him as I set the plate down in front of a customer, he’s wide-eye and gaping at me. Maybe he won’t mess with me anymore. I should swear more often. I might be taken more seriously.

  “What are you guys drinking?” I ask, standing in front of Tahoe’s table.

  His friends laugh and I’m reminded of the immature jerks I went to school with. “If drinks are funny then last night was a real roar of a time,” I deadpan. “Water for the table then?” I meet their eyes one by one. “Or did you drink enough bay water last night, too?”

  Their smiles vanish. I avoid looking at Tyler for fear of feeling anything except anger and misery. Leif replies, “Coffee for the table and a plate of regret for him.” He tilts his head toward Tahoe.

  “I’ll be back with your coffees and his plate of chicken shit in a minute. Anything else while I’m here?” They laugh at my joke. Well Tahoe doesn’t, bu
t I didn’t expect him to. Then again, I’m not sure what to expect from him.

  “Fuck you guys. I’m outta’ here,” Tahoe growls, standing from the table and blowing through the diner and out the front door.

  Aidan looks smug. “We made him come here,” he says.

  “Why?”

  “He said you broke up with him last night and we didn’t believe him.”

  Leif cackles. “He also didn’t think you were working this morning. You should have seen his face when he saw your bike outside.” Their booth roars with laughter. These huge, burly men with their deep baritone voices echo the small space.

  I place my hands on my hips, looking around at my tables to see if anyone is trying to get my attention. I’m okay for the moment. “Listen, he broke up with me,” I say, placing a hand on my chest, over my heart. I think of Caleb’s reaction to my cursing. Swallowing down the woman I used to be—the one who got burned. I have their attention, and I take full advantage of this moment. “It seems Tyler Holiday isn’t good at everything,” I say. “He doesn’t even know how to take a woman’s virginity.”

  Their smiles fall, and Leif’s mouth hangs open. Aidan licks his lips. “Oh,” Leif says, shaking off the shock of my unfiltered words. The silence turns awkward, overtaking every particle of oxygen. “It all makes sense now,” he mutters, though I’m not sure he meant for me to hear.

  “Maybe you boys can give him some pointers? I’ll be back in a jiff,” I say, scribbling the coffees down on the ticket.

  Their gazes are boring into my back, I’m sure of it. Caleb’s eyes look wary as I approach. “Don’t say a word,” I say, shaking my head. Leif exits the building, and comes back in a minute or two later, a grim expression on his face.

  As I’m pouring coffee in their mugs, Leif clears his throat. “Uh, can you spare a second to chat with him? He’s still outside. We all rode in together,” he explains.

  I shake my head. “Even if I wanted to, I’m waiting by myself today.”

  Aidan hops up. “Give me your apron. I have this. I’ve always wanted to live out a waitress fantasy.”