Which is how I know I’ve been wrong all along.
I have been the psychopath, not Dylan.
All this time. And I have been the bad guy. I heave myself down on the couch, but it isn’t enough so I melt down and flip until I am upside-down with my head on the carpet. How could I have been so wrong about everything? I guess pretty easily. I’ve never been known for my great choices. But still, this feels like a new low.
“Wait, what do you mean Jana Aston likes to live vicariously?” I ask Maggie.
“Well, she hates parties and going out and most things that aren’t cats or coffee. So it works out nicely for her that I have so many weird stories about us doing what we do.”
She hates parties? So much for my tarot reading. Everything I have believed is a lie. This is a truly sad realization. Because I don’t think there’s any way around it. I’m going to have to do the thing that all Riley girls hate more than anything in the world—apologize.
Acceptance
You can come over tonight
Sure, the text doesn’t sound like it’s coming from a girl ready to make things right, but I don’t want to startle him with sudden kindness. Anyways the whole point of a Valentine’s Day surprise is that it’s a surprise. And this gives him no indication that I even remember what day today is.
He sends a thumbs-up emoji a few minutes later, which is good, because if he’d said no I would have to come up with a whole new plan and we all know that’s not likely. All the vitamins and sunlamps in the world can’t fix lazy.
Then I set to work, because there’s a lot to do and only a couple hours until he gets off work. Knowing what he does and where he does it has made my life a lot simpler just in general. I don’t know why I was so resistant before. I guess because I just assumed he was off spreading happiness to the other lonely women of Kansas City and I didn’t really want to spend much time dwelling on that.
Once everything’s arranged to my satisfaction, I pour myself a gin and wait.
By pure luck, I’m looking out the window when he pulls up. The luck is helped a little bit because I’ve been looking out the window the entire time. His long, lean body unfolds from the car like a present being opened just for me. Then he reaches back inside and pulls out a box. Interesting.
It’s not flowers, which is a good thing because of my allergies. I don’t even think I’ve mentioned that to him, so either he’s been investigating me through Darby again, or he’s just made a good guess that I’m not the kind of girly-girl who thinks much of dying vegetation as a present. I buzz him in, open the door, and wait for his scent and then his face to appear. He greets me with a kiss. It makes my heart swell a little bit. Kissing him still feels a little bit novel, since we didn’t do it the first few times. So I kiss him again, until there’s a real danger that we’re going to end up humping in the hallway, then I break away to pull him in.
“I made dinner,” I say. He looks appropriately shocked. I can cook pretty decently, thanks to all of Maggie’s lessons, but he would have no way of knowing that given that most of our interactions take place nude. And that’s not a safe way to be in the kitchen.
He follows me to my little dining table, which I have covered entirely with butcher paper. It’s a trick I learned from the only Facebook group I’m in that isn’t related to true crime. On said paper, I have drawn body outlines and filled them in with things like very rare steak, roasted beets, and various charcuterie. Charcuterie by definition is cured meats, so most of it looks like a crime scene already. I’m really proud of this table, even if I seem to have inadvertently created a romantic cannibal scene.
“How very criminal,” Dylan remarks. He grabs one of the steak knives I’ve scattered around and spears a steak tip. Then a beet. “Will the paper hold all the… blood?” he asks as juice drips copiously down.
“Who cares? I lost my security deposit the day I told my sisters where I live.” That’s dead true, too. “Blood orange?”
He accepts, with a little smirk on his face that somehow makes him even hotter than when he has his straight-face on. I am the most repentful ex-psychopath there ever was. How could I ever have discounted this clever, quiet man as a mere vitamin?
Although.
The D is absolutely something to write home about.
Or to your local romance writer, as it turns out. Still can’t believe how wrong I read her.
Instead of gin, I have red wine, in keeping with the general bloody theme of things. I’m pretty sure Dylan is liking it, based on nothing but the fact that he hasn’t left yet. He truly is inscrutable. Very attractive, now that I’m almost entirely positive he isn’t planning to kill me. Okay, I’m entirely positive, but the idea of him chasing me around still seems like a good time, so the one percent is just there for funsies.
Holy Mary, he isn’t wrong, though. There is red stuff just like—everywhere. This might have been a terrible idea. Or a perfect idea but the wrong location. Like so many murderers later discover, I suppose, I should have done this outside somewhere. Luckily, bleach is a thing. It even fools Lumisol, I hear.
“So, I think,” I start, and then my mouth gets a little dry. I think a lot of things, but that doesn’t mean I am good at saying them.
“Wanna play a game?” Dylan offers.
“Okay.” If it’s a Scream-type game, I’m pretty qualified. If it’s a board game, at least it takes the pressure off my quasi-speech about trying to be a better not-girlfriend.
He grabs the box he brought in from the car and sets it in a chair to open so a puddle of beet-and-beef blood doesn’t drown it. Inside is Twister. Welp. Okay.
“I thought it would be really uncouth to keep on with our weird true crime connection, but that was before I realized you don’t care,” he says. “I just figured this would be a fun way to arrange our bodies in a sexy way without being problematic.”
He’s very right. And I am very into it. And I can’t let him come into my room now. I am very problematic, it turns out. Wow, I’m so glad Darby intervention-ed me. I needed it. So we spend the next twenty minutes drinking red wine and sexily arranging our bodies in reasonably PC ways. But I can’t keep putting it off. I have to do the thing.
“Dylan,” I start, and he startles like a deer in the woods.
“You know my name?”
“Obviously,” I act like he’s dumb, but okay that’s reasonable. “Anyways, it occurs to me that I haven’t been exactly…”
“Human?” he offers. I look down at my charcuterie table covered in red and chalk outlines.
“Fair. Anyways, it also occurs that maybe I’ve treated you like---winter.” I’m not entirely sure where I’m going with this but it feels right so I charge ahead. “There’s nothing wrong with you. The problem is me. You’re just doing you, and I get real weird. But the you seems to be pretty good with the weird…” I trail off. This is not going well. Even if his face wasn’t doing what it’s doing, I can hear how little sense I am making. “So… do you want to be my boyfriend, or…?”
“Against my better judgement, I do,” he says. “You are batshit crazy, but it’s very much the kind that I enjoy. Also, if you kill me, I’ve left very specific instructions to identify you.”
“Boo boo!” I exclaim, entirely charmed by his foresight. “I’ve done the same!”
This is the best Valentine’s Day ever.
About the Author
About Kayti:
Livin’ deliciously in beautiful Kansas City Missouri, where everyone else loves the Royals as much as I do. I like wine and murder shows and mountains and art.
I’m represented by Rebecca Friedman at Friedman Literary because I am a lucky, lucky girl. Call her if you want me to do Iron Chef, otherwise just hit me up on FB at http://www.facebook.com/kaytimcgeeauthor, on Insta @KaytiMcGeeWrites, and stay sexy.
You can find out more about Kayti and her books at www.kaytimcgee.com
Falling Fast With You
Falling Fast With You
By
S. Moose
Falling Fast with You
Copyright © 2020 by S. Moose
All Rights Reserved. This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. All characters and storylines are the property of the author and your support and respect is appreciated. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Chapter One
Ashley
A wave of nausea rolls through me. I’m sitting in my car, telling myself I can do this, and doing everything I possibly can to believe what I’m saying.
Have you ever been in a situation where you know you should take a leap of faith? You know it needs to be done because something is pushing you, guiding you, to make that decision. That’s where I’m at, right now.
The butterflies in my stomach are making me nervous and my palms sweaty. I check my phone and see the message from him.
Clayton: I’m sorry I didn’t go to the right place. Thanks for understanding. I’m inside and I can’t wait to meet you.
Clayton.
His name is different. Not your typical, every day, name you hear. It flows nicely from my lips.
I scroll through the conversation we’ve had for the past week. He’s made me laugh and he’s sincere from the way he asks me about my day and asking questions to get to know me. Some other guys I’ve talked to immediately ask for selfies and it escalates to something sexual from there.
Not with Clayton.
When I wake up, I have a good morning text from him, and every night I have a sweet dreams text. He seems way too good to be true. I did a little stalking because who wouldn’t in today’s society?
I had to be sure this wasn’t a game and I wasn’t being catfished. I found him on a few social media sites and everything he told me was legit. The pictures he posted matched what he sent me, so that was a check yes in the safe column.
I blow out a breath and touch up my lipstick once again before stepping out of my car and making my way to the coffee shop. I’m standing in front of the door, and I can’t bring myself to walk inside. It shouldn’t be a big deal.
Rebound date.
That’s what this is, a little distraction from the ugliness of my breakup. The reality that my ten-year relationship is over.
It’s hard to imagine the future without the person you’ve experienced life with. From our young teenage years to welcoming adulthood and starting a new stage of our lives.
Six months of missing him.
Six months of crying myself to sleep.
After having a woe is me party for one, I realized I was worth it. I had a lot to offer someone and I wasn’t going to stay sad. There was more to life than what I thought.
Sometimes relationships run their course and you learn how to pick yourself up and let go. You tell yourself you’re going to make it through the day, the week, the month, and the year. Reading quotes and listening to music helped me get to the point of where I’m at.
I was always going to love him, and he was always going to hold a piece of my heart, but I wasn’t going to lay around and mope. Life was passing me by, and it was time I took it back into my hands.
I’ve given myself time and I’ve gone through the stages of grief. Part of me is happy, and the other part of me is scared. I’m a fresh twenty-three-year-old and my life is only beginning. I have everything in order: a wonderful family, great friends, a degree in the field of nursing, a letter saying I passed the exam, and soon an interview with one of the top hospitals in the world. It’s still hard to believe. I didn’t think my life would have brought me to this spot. Then again, I didn’t think I’d be single again.
Dear life, you kind of suck.
Thanks.
Honestly, I don’t think I remember how to date. I’m taking a chance by being here tonight. The horror stories about online dating are creeping into my head. My best friend, Gina, knows where I am so if I go missing, she’ll alert the police or she’ll find the guy and demand for answers. Sometimes I think she’s better at finding information than the FBI. The girl can be scary when she’s determined to find something out.
I take out my phone and pull up the conversations I’ve had with Clayton again. I’m going into this date with an open mind and I have my mace ready if he tries anything. My “stalking” of Clayton Turner didn’t bring up anything indicating he’s a serial killer. He seems like a sweet guy.
I take a deep breath and walk inside. My heart is racing and I rub my hand against my thigh a few times to wipe off the sweat. Blind dates are supposed to be fun and fun is the word I’m looking for tonight.
To be honest, I’m not sure if I remember how to have fun. That’s what’s holding me back. Part of me thinks I should turn around and head back to my apartment. My very lonely one-bedroom apartment that’s ridiculously too expensive. It was something I needed, and it was available.
I nearly stop in my tracks when I see him. Dear Lord in Heaven he’s tall and cuter in person than in his pictures. The pictures he’s sent me don’t do this man justice. There’s an instant pull to him and I can’t shake off this feeling. We’re like magnets and I’m being drawn to him. When he smiles and his chocolate brown eyes shine, it’s almost perfection.
Maybe fun has a different meaning and he’s going to be more than that.
“Hi, Ashley.” His deep voice snaps me out of my dreaming. He steps forward and pulls me in for a hug. I could melt in his arms. Hold me tighter, please. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Hi, Clayton,” I barely whisper. “So nice meeting you too.”
With his hand on the small part of my back, he leads me to a table in the corner and motions for me to have a seat. My heart picks up its beat and I start sweating again. He’s even sexier up close.
“Did you want anything? I wasn’t sure what you liked, and I didn’t want to look like a fool in case I got it wrong. I guess I never asked you what you liked to have at a coffee shop.” He taps the side of his head. “When you tell me, I’ll be sure to remember going forward.”
Going forward.
I blush. I literally feel the warmth in my cheeks, and I can’t help to smile. This man is quite perfect.
I wave my hand. “No worries. What I crave all depends on my mood. You would never look like a fool to me. Can you get me a chocolate croissant with a lavender latte?”
“Of course. I’ll be right back.”
“Okay.” I watch Clayton walk and get in line. I pull out my phone and text Gina.
Ashley: I’m here.
Gina: Good! How’s everything going?
Ashley: He’s getting our order. G, I’m going to be honest with you.
Gina: Yeah?
Ashley: He’s perfect. Beyond perfect. I’m pretty sure I’m in love. I know it’s crazy, but I don’t know how else to explain it. As soon as I saw him, something came alive inside of me.
Gina: Shut up. You just met him.
Ashley: Trust me, I know! He’s coming back. Talk to you soon!
I put my phone away as Clayton slides me my coffee and croissant. It’s toasted and warm. My favorite.
“What’d you get?”
“Caramel frappe. I didn’t know what else to get. I’m not a big coffee drinker.”
“I live on coffee. I’m sure it’s bad, but I can’t function without it. People who know me know not to talk to me until I’ve had one cup of coffee. If they try to interact with me, well, let’s just say it doesn’t end well for them.”
Clayton laughs. “Noted.”
“We didn’t have to come here if you don’t drink coffee.”
“No worries. I like to try new things and since you suggested we come here, I wanted to make you happy and thought it would be fun.”
“That’s really sweet of you.”
The butterflies are back. Clayton Turner has to be the most gorgeous man I’ve seen. He has a shy part to him and that’s what’s alluring. There’s no cockiness to him. “Tell me more about yourself.”
“Let’s see. Well, you know I’m twenty-three and I didn’t get a chance to tell you this before but I started working for the Seattle football team as a physical therapist.”
“Shut up. You help Will Montgomery?” My jaw drops. “Please say yes. I love Seattle. Ever since I was a baby, my dad, bless his heart, always wanted a boy. He ended up with three girls so for some reason, I was the one he handled as a boy. We used to go to all the games.”
“Yeah, he’s a great guy. Used to? You don’t go anymore?”
I clear my throat and play with the napkin, trying to keep my emotions in check. “My dad passed away a last year. It’s hard. My family, we’re managing, but he held our family together. He was the glue.” Don’t cry. Don’t cry. “Massive heart attack.”
Clayton reaches over for my hand and wraps it with his. “I am so sorry for your loss.” I’m not sure how it happened, but he’s next to me and my head’s resting on his shoulder. “Let it out,” he whispers, and I do.
Chapter Two
Clayton
There’s no way she’s this into me.
When she walked into the coffee shop, I stopped dead in my tracks. She took my breath away. There was something about her that pulled me in. I never felt this way before. I’ve been in some relationships here and there, and one time I thought I was in love, but this instant gravitational pull to her has me needing to know more about her.
A Little Bit Cupid: A Collection of Short Stories Page 29