#1 Crush

by T Gephart

  “Tomorrow,” I volunteered, the resistance futile. “We’ll go tomorrow. Lunchtime. Is this a number I can reach you on?”

  “Yes, it sure is.”

  “Okay, I’ll call you.” Wait did he want me to call him? “Or I can text you. To give you directions.” Lame. I was so lame.

  “You can call me, but I don’t need directions.” His sexy voice rumbled. “As long as I have a name I can find what I need.”

  No. Fucking. Shit.

  Dead.

  Seriously, I stood no chance.

  If he told me he wanted to light me on fire tomorrow I’d probably pour the gasoline myself. Did he take classes to be that sexy? I imagined his college transcripts—English, Math, Drama, Panty-Melting—he was on the honor roll for sure.

  “Great.” And between now and then I was going to find some game. “See you then.” And get some answers.

  “Tia.” Will knocked at the door making me leap out of my seat and bang my knee against the large wooden desk.

  “I’ll be there in a minute.” I covered the phone with my hand as I hollered at the door praying he didn’t hear. “Bye, Eric. Bye.”

  Damn it. I said bye twice. I ended the call before I could mortify myself further and opened the study door.

  “Sorry.” Will stood in the doorway, a cordless phone in his hand. “But Lila called the house and said it was urgent. She’s been trying to reach you on your cell.” He handed me the handset and then closed the door, leaving me alone again.

  This didn’t sound good; he didn’t even make a crack about me having two calls in a short space of time. Something wasn’t right.

  “Hey, is everything okay?” There was no way she could have found out about Eric calling me and our subsequent date/burger thing. Not unless my phone was indeed tapped and someone had been listening in, alerting Lila. The FBI were not to be messed with.

  “Oh. My. God. Tia.” She stopped between each word and took a breath. Shit. Maybe she did know. “Have you been online?”

  Huh?

  “Um, in general?” Was that a trick question? “Of course. Did a war break out I don’t know about?” I flicked to my CNN app on my cell and started scanning headlines.

  “Eric broke up with his girlfriend.”

  Kaboom.

  It felt like a bomb had just exploded, my cerebellum taking shrapnel as my lungs wheezed out every breath of air.

  Say what?

  “Say what?” I repeated, this time so she could hear because I literally couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  “Yep, last time they were together was the movie premiere. She left right after and boarded a plane to London and they have been history since.” She barely took a breath as she shot out details excitedly.

  “Lila, she is working in London doing . . . whatever models do in London.” My heartbeat started to normalize when it became obvious it had been a case of misinformation. It wasn’t Lila’s fault, she wasn’t as disciplined as I was in matters of the tabloids. I’d seen break up/make up stories a million times, rarely were they true.

  “It’s not like she’s been gone that long. They’ve worked in different cities before.” And had I not had a self-imposed exile from gossip sites and celebrity reports I would have already known this. Once again proving that nothing good could come from deprivation. Never again, I tell you. Never again.

  “No, this isn’t that,” Lila insisted, not willing to accept my reason. “Friends have confirmed the split, and if that wasn’t enough she was seen cozying up to some other guy at a nightclub. And when reporters asked if she was missing Eric, she said no and full mouth kissed the other guy. I’d say that is pretty clear they aren’t together.”

  “Oh. Shit.” Breath pushed out of my lungs in a rush and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t make them expand again.

  What does this mean?

  Deep in the recesses of my brain I searched for some semblance of reason, something, anything where I understood what was happening. He was single? Could I be around him single when there were possibilities? That was a hazard I hadn’t even considered. Where there was a chance? I wasn’t sure whether to get on my knees and thank God for this amazing gift or lock myself in a padded cell. My emotions fluctuated madly, toggling between elated that I was even going to see him again and terrified beyond measure. Not for myself. Oh no. For him. Because there was no way in hell I could be trusted. Did the gods not know what I was capable of? Putting a single, willing—he contacted me—Eric in my path was like lighting a couch on fire and wondering if it was going to take down the whole house. Of course it would.

  Maybe it was a trap? That old adage, careful what you wish for, thing.

  “What oh shit?” Lila interrupted my freak out. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “He asked me out. I think, I’m not sure.” Or he could genuinely be looking for a tour guide. I couldn’t be trusted to make the distinction, not with my brain in tatters.

  “Eric Larsson asked you on a date?” Lila screamed into the phone. A bleeding eardrum could probably be added to my list of trauma for the day as well.

  “Sort of . . . Yes.”

  “Sort of?”

  “Okay, here is what is happening.” I took a deep breath.

  It was time to take the wheel of the Titanic before it hit the iceberg. Crap, poor analogy. You know what I mean.

  “I’m going to get through dinner with my sister and her family so she doesn’t put the curse of a million suns on my ass, and then I am going to go straight to my apartment. You’re going to meet me there. This is not the kind of conversation we can have over the phone.”

  “Brilliant, see you there,” she answered without hesitation. “And bring me pot roast; your sister might have a stick up her ass most of the time, but she knows how to cook.”

  “Done. See you soon.” The call ended and my eyes darted around the silent empty room.

  “I hope the Viking gods and the other gods know what they’re doing.” My eyes lifted to the ceiling. “Because I’m probably going to break every commandment there is.”

  MY LIVING ROOM HAD BEEN converted into a situation slash war room. Multiple news sources had been checked and rechecked to establish that Eric Larsson had in fact split from Anna Lane. And while no official announcement had been made, there had been numerous sightings of her with other men. It was as good as we were going to get without verbal confirmation.

  It was risky. If I assumed they were done and my tour expanded beyond the city, I could definitely get creative. It was Eric Larsson for Christ’s sake; I’d have to at least kiss him, right? But if I made my move when actually they were on a Rachel-Ross-Friends-break, I would look like a desperate idiot. Not to mention blowing whatever chance I had of seeing him again. Assuming the chance existed.

  But if I didn’t try anything, and kept it purely platonic, he might assume I wasn’t interested and forever banish me to the shadow lands beyond the horizon. The elephant graveyard of relationships, also known as friend zone. I was going to have to think on the fly and have the improvising skills of a Navy Seal.

  Sun-Tzu once said, “Victorious warriors win first and then go to war.” I wasn’t entirely sure what that meant but it sounded good, so I was going to try and win first. Whatever that meant.

  There had been no call to Eric.

  Oh, I’d stored his number, assigned it a ringtone and uploaded a profile picture, but not once did I dial it. I couldn’t. Because I had no idea what I was doing. It would be tipping my hand and showing I had nothing but a pair of twos, and I wasn’t laying anything on the table until I had aces.

  So instead of pacing nervously in my apartment or rechecking gossip sites for news of a reunion, I walked the short distance from my place to Holiday’s.

  It was more productive and I wasn’t sure technically when lunchtime is. Generally speaking it could be anywhere from noon to like one thirty. I’d even had lunchtime meetings that started at two, so there was a huge amount of time
that was open to interpretation. I was overthinking it for sure.

  Which is why at eleven thirty—I was being overly cautious—I waved to Danny, the owner, and settled into my favorite booth toward the back. The place was so small you could still see it from the doorway, but it was the furthest from the kitchen, so conducive to conversation. And if that wasn’t enough of a reason, it was the only booth that wasn’t pressed against a large window, so you could eat your burger without feeling like a zoo animal.

  “Your usual, Tia?” Danny didn’t even bother with a notepad and pen, the menu wasn’t complicated enough to not remember orders.

  “Just a soda for now. I’m waiting for someone.”

  “I thought you looked more dolled up than usual. You don’t usually put all that stuff on your face when you come here to eat.”

  There was no bullshit with Danny. He knew how to feed people and run a successful business, but he had no idea when it came to women. He also had no filter, which I respected even though the uninitiated usually thought he was a rude asshole.

  “You turning on the charm to increase your tip?” I laughed. “I’m surprised Eddy hasn’t divorced your ass with compliments like that.”

  “She threatens daily.” He turned to go grab my soda, calling over his shoulder, “But she hasn’t found a man who handles a grill like I can.”

  Danny was right about me being dolled up more than usual. I’d even wandered in wearing my PJs one late night not too long ago. It was late, I was hungry and the thought of putting on pants was just too much.

  Today I had made an effort. Wearing fitted jeans and a cute top, I had even tamed my hair into even smooth curls. And while I didn’t go drag queen on my makeup, I had definitely paid more attention to its application before I left my apartment.

  “And in case you were wondering, you look nice.” He placed the soda in front of me. “But then you always do.”

  “Careful, Danny, you’re getting soft in your old age. Next you will be selling tofu.”

  “Bite your tongue, woman!” He smiled and returned to his customers.

  It wasn’t busy yet but by noon the place would be packed. Literally fifteen minutes difference and it would be wall to wall. Which is why when Eric walked in fourteen minutes later—so I guess lunchtime is noon, good to know—the space had filled with people and he needed to scan the room.

  Our eyes locked.

  Fuck. Me.

  My hands grabbed at the edge of the table as I took him in, striding toward me with a smile that was obliterating my ovaries. He was breathtaking.

  Wearing dark jeans, a black T-shirt that clung to every muscle and a pair of mirrored aviators, every part of him a perfect mix of I-just-threw-this-on and I’m-dressed-by-Calvin-Klein. How did he make looking good seem so effortless? I was going to die.

  “New York.” A smile that had the yield of a nuclear weapon spread across his lips. “I was hoping your important witness protection business wouldn’t keep you away.”

  Dying.

  I was a fish flopping around on a pier, gasping for air being slayed by a beautiful man in a pair of designer jeans.

  “Eric, how nice to see you again.” I stood up, my hands fidgeting at my side. Do I handshake? Hug? Fuse my lips to his throat? There was no fucking protocol for what I was doing.

  “Likewise.” He inched closer and pulled me in for a hug, his hand pressing slightly against my back.

  Dying.

  Dead.

  Gone.

  There was no choice but for me to rest my head against his pecs. I probably didn’t need to stroke my cheek against the fabric of his shirt, but he was wearing that incapacitating cologne again. I could not be held accountable. No one deserved to smell that good. He must have harnessed the tears of unicorns or something,

  “So, what brings you to New York?” My mouth opened and some words that made sense fell out. Good words too, because I was honestly curious.

  “I had a meeting with a director yesterday.” He pulled away from me, waiting for me to take a seat before he took his own. “I usually just fly in for the day, but I decided to stick around for a while.”

  “Oh? New project?” Nothing had been added to IMDb, this was fresh news so I didn’t need to feign my interest.

  “We’ll see.” He smiled, taking off his sunglasses and placing them on the table. The next weapon in his arsenal unveiled—those ridiculously blue eyes.

  “You ready?” Danny appeared at our side, the appearance of my company his prompt to come and get our order. “We have burgers, fries and hot dogs.” He looked at Eric. “Or you can look at a menu.”

  “Not needed. I’ll have whatever she orders.” Eric tilted his head in my direction. “And a beer if you have it.”

  “Sounds good. Two Tia regulars and a beer.” Danny recited the order, disappearing before he had a chance to confirm it.

  “You’re putting a lot of trust in me. What if my regular order is some vegetarian option with a side salad instead of fries?” I bit my lip, more thrilled than I should be that he allowed me to order for him.

  “I highly doubt it.” He eased back into his seat. “And I like to live dangerously.”

  No. Shit.

  I’d say tracking someone down and meeting up with them when you barely knew them was pretty dangerous.

  Oh, where have I heard that before?

  Yeah, that’s right. Me. He basically pulled a me, on me.

  Oh, he was good.

  “How did you get my number?” I took a sip of my soda making sure I smiled so I didn’t look annoyed. “You still haven’t said.”

  He might have sidestepped it earlier, but he would have to be pretty slick to out me, me. And I could me, me better than anyone.

  “I have my sources,” he whispered. “But you didn’t make it easy for me. Your social media was locked down, so I had to resort to old school methods.”

  The social media lockdown had been initiated because of the paper. It was the first piece of advice my editor had given me. I said a lot of personal, sometimes controversial stuff as part of my column. I didn’t need some psycho on my doorstep wanting to rip out my heart because of my firm stance on leggings aren’t pants. So only my first name was printed and I work tweeted on a generic account. Everything else was on strictly need-to-know basis, with my “friends” being actual people that I knew.

  “You looked me up? All just to make sure you got a good burger?” My eyebrows rose as I tried to suppress the grin. “There’s this thing called Trip Adviser, I hear it’s pretty good.”

  “I’m going to let you in on a secret.” He leaned over the table, bringing his lips closer to my ear. “I’m not here for the burger.”

  A chill ran right down my spine as every hair on my body stood on end. That wasn’t the only thing that was standing on end with my nipples poking against my bra trying to find a way out. And if he happened to look down, he would see it too, the twin beacons at my chest waving him in like an airplane making its final descent.

  “Me?”

  It probably didn’t need to be asked and I was seriously underselling my intelligence. But this wasn’t something I needed to be unclear on. I wasn’t arrogant enough to assume he was interested in me in the same way I was interested in him. Or that he had thought about pressing that obscene body of his against mine until we both forgot who we were. No, those had been my fantasies. So until he told me otherwise, I would assume his interest in me was something else. Maybe there was a part in his latest movie where he needed someone to scream out obscenities. I had zero acting experience but swearing I could do on a dime. That, that would make sense.

  “There aren’t a lot of women who intrigue me anymore.” He didn’t take his eyes off me when he spoke, ignoring the noise around us. “But you had me curious. So here I am.”

  Well that was a whole lot of nothing. I intrigued him? Was I a Rubik’s Cube? A murder mystery? A Walkman circa 1980’s?

  “Here you go. Two cheese burgers, no mayo,
no onion with fries. Enjoy.” Danny lowered two plates on the table in front of us. “Yell out if you need anything, we’re getting hammered at the front.” He winked at me before leaving.

  “No mayo?” Eric picked up his burger examining it. “What’s up with that?”

  “I don’t do white condiments.”

  He stopped looking at his burger and looked at me, his mouth twitching at the edges.

  “Yes, yes. I know how it sounds.” I rolled my eyes, the reference not intending to be an obscene innuendo. “It’s a thing, I’m a weirdo.”

  I stopped short of telling him I had no problem with what he was probably thinking—or what I was thinking—because that would be too weird even for me.

  “Juice is strictly a breakfast drink, witness protection, doesn’t like white condiments. This is quite a list of things to remember.” The edges of his mouth twisted into a grin.

  Breathe.

  In and out.

  Sun-Tzu could kiss my ass. I wasn’t winning shit.

  “Did you break up with your girlfriend?” I asked with absolutely no segue. Tossing in a conversation grenade for no other reason than my mind was thinking it and I needed to know.

  “Yes.” His one-word answer making me want to drop to my knees and give eternal thanks.

  “So you are currently single?”

  You can never be too sure, too many loopholes these days.

  “Yes.”

  “And you aren’t here for a burger.” My eyes dipped down to our plates, both still full of food, no bites taken.

  “No.” His eyebrow rose.

  “And I intrigue you?”

  “Yes.”

  He didn’t even look away, his intense gaze searing me like the stupid burger I was supposed to consume after the eye fucking he was giving me across the table. Oh, make no mistake, that’s exactly what was happening. All his one-word answers and his sexy face. He might as well have stuck his hand into my jeans and rubbed my clit. Same result was achieved.