Waiting for Her

by Jennifer Van Wyk

  This time, I don’t cry.

  And then his lips are on mine.

  Teeth gnash together, tongues battle, breaths are shared.

  Hearts are mended.

  His forearms are pressed to the mattress on either side of my head, his hands frame my face and he pulls away for a moment. I whimper in protest, wanting his lips to remain on mine. But then our eyes connect and the look he’s giving me mimics what’s on my heart.

  I hear a growl and I’m not sure if it’s from him or me, but suddenly our mouths are fused together once again. His tongue swipes against mine, my fingers grip the back of his shirt.

  No words are spoken as I frantically push his clothes off him, anxious to finally get my hands on the muscles I know are under the pesky cotton in my way. My fingers fumble with the button on his shorts and he chuckles, my anxiousness apparently quite amusing.

  “You’re wearing far too many articles of clothing. You should have been more prepared,” I mumble, our mouths still connected.

  “Was I supposed to show up to your door naked?”

  I raise my eyebrows and look down at my quite minimal clothing.

  “May I remind you, I showed up here? It’s not as if you were waiting for me.”

  I flush.

  Busted.

  “You were waiting for me?”

  I say nothing.

  He leans back on his haunches, still straddling my legs. “Mia called you. Again.”

  My lips are sealed.

  “So this is how it’s gonna be, huh?” he asks, amusement laced in his tone. “You two are going to start ganging up on me? She’s suddenly on your side?”

  His words say he’s annoyed.

  The smile I see in his eyes tells me otherwise.

  I shrug my shoulders, reach down to the hem of my tank top and lift.

  He settles back, a hand covering his mouth as he shamelessly stares down at me.

  “God, Bri. I thought you were beautiful then. It’s nothing compared to now.”

  He moves so he’s stretched out beside me, palm resting on my stomach. He leans over, kisses me just above my belly button, then his tongue and lips battle to see which can make a sexier trail up to my neck. Grady nudges me with his forehead, forcing my head to turn to the side to give him better access.

  The feel of his nose joining the sexy trail race is enough to make my stomach quiver. I twist under him, pressing my center against him, desperate for any way to help relieve the pressure that’s already building.

  A strong hand to my hip lets me know I’m not to be heading into that territory without him.

  “I got you. Have patience.” I feel his smile against my skin. “Fuck you smell good,” he groans.

  “You’re still too clothed,” I whine as my fingers claw at his shirt. He reaches behind him and shucks it off, throwing it across the room. I squeal and barely stop myself from clapping like I’m in a private showing of a Magic Mike show.

  “Approve?”

  “Uh, yeah! Is it weird if I say that you’re sexy? It’s weird, right?”

  “Hell no, it’s not weird.”

  I can’t decide what’s blooming larger in my chest.

  Hope.

  Love.

  Horniness?

  As I watch him finish the job my hands didn’t complete earlier with his shorts, leaving him in only a simple pair of dark gray boxer briefs, I realize the third feeling is absolutely the largest.

  Good. Golly. Miss. Molly.

  “Did I say sexy?” I whimper as my eyes file away every dip and groove in his stomach—all twelve of them plus the bonus triangles above the waistband of his boxers. “Sexy is a disservice to the word that should be used for you.” I buck, wanting him on his back. I need more time to explore, and I can’t do it with the angle I’m at.

  He takes the hint and rolls over, taking me with him.

  Now it’s my turn to make the sexy trail. I don’t know which was more fun. Receiving or giving.

  When he crosses his arms behind his head, letting the muscles in his chest and shoulders bulge, I have my answer.

  I take my time, making up for the past six years our bodies have missed each other. I start at his mouth, nibbling on his lower lip before trailing my tongue along his jawline. He unhooks his arms from behind his head, his strong hands rubbing up and down my upper body. When I begin sucking gently on his neck, he grips the flesh of my butt and groans loudly.

  Our hands battle between us, both trying to slide out of our underwear at the same time.

  Legs tangle, an unorganized mess.

  “We were supposed to take our time,” he murmurs. “I didn’t plan this. I wanted it to be right. To go slow.”

  Knowing he thought of us being together again is all the foreplay I need.

  “We have the rest of our lives to go slow.”

  He pulls my head down, fiercely kissing me as he rolls us once again.

  I look up into his eyes, seeing conflicting emotions roll through his expression. His blue eyes shutter closed, and a pained groan fills the air between us.

  Him? Me? Probably both.

  His head rests against the crook of my neck and I feel his tongue sneak out, tasting my collar bone. “No, I can’t do this yet, Bri. I promised myself when I had you back in my life, I wouldn’t take a single second of it for granted.”

  It’s been so long since I felt the weight of him on top of me. I knew I’d missed it, I had no idea how much until this very second when he shifts his body like he’s going to move off me. I wrap my arms and legs around him and hold him close, relishing in the feel of peace for the first time in over six years.

  My skin heats, the contact of his against mine something else I missed so fiercely, I’m suddenly overwhelmed with emotion.

  I want to cry.

  Not because of how freaking horny and fired up I am, but because it hit me that a moment ago he said when not if.

  He pulls back, noticing the tears building in my eyes.

  “What’re these for?” he murmurs, thumbing away the moisture leaking from my eyes.

  So I tell him. “You said when, not if. I don’t deserve your forgiveness and yet, here I am, receiving it.”

  “Who am I to say you don’t deserve forgiveness? My love for you isn’t conditional, Bri. I fell in love with you, my heart never allowed me to fall out.”

  Grady

  Nine days.

  It’s only been nine days since Bri resurfaced back into my life. To list all the things that have happened or I’ve learned about the past six years feels like it would take decades.

  But we’re leaving it there.

  In the past.

  Because tonight, I’m taking Bri Jameson on our second first date.

  And a trip down memory lane.

  Saturday night, I came close to speeding up our reunion, but I wasn’t lying when I told her I had promised myself when I had her back in my arms I would be doing things the right way. I owe it to her, and to myself, to take our time.

  Before I left her townhouse, she looked me in the eye and said she’s not going anywhere.

  She saw my hesitation for leaving but the assurance she gave me made walking away a little easier.

  That’s not to say I didn’t take a cold shower as soon as I got home, which didn’t even come close to breaking through the need coursing through my veins. Eventually I had to turn the water to warm as I wrapped my hand around myself as visions of Bri laid out underneath me filtered through my mind.

  Sunday morning, everything simply seemed better, and I knew that even though she had said she wasn’t going anywhere, I needed to be sure.

  I had some game tape I needed to catch up on watching and she had another assignment she’d been given for SI that was due. I know I would have given it all up to spend the day doing nothing but… her, we agreed that we would take things slowly. Or, at least, go out on a date first. After that, all bets are off. She might not know it yet, but she’s mine and I’m ready to stake
my claim once again.

  “So, you kind of broke my heart,” Izaak says next to me, chest heaving after just finishing practice on Monday afternoon.

  “Oh yeah? How’s that?”

  “You stole the girl!” he says, voice teasing.

  “She was never available to steal,” I admit, not even remotely trying to wipe away the smile that is a permanent fixture on my face once again.

  “Yeah, I kind of figured. You two have known each other a long time, huh?”

  I raise my eyebrows at him. “What do you know about it?”

  He grins. “Probably more than you’d like me to know.”

  I shake my head and scrub a hand over my face, then cross my arms, clipboard tucked under my armpit.

  “We getting into a therapy session now?”

  “Wanna lay down on the couch? I’m a good listener.”

  “Such a smartass.”

  “Wait. How’d you know we were together?” I ask, feeling a small sense of unease twinge in my stomach.

  He shrugs. “Everyone knows.”

  That can’t be good.

  I want to ask him more but in the middle of practice isn’t the right time.

  I blow my whistle three times and the team jogs over.

  “Good practice, guys. Two weeks in and you’re looking great. There’s always room for improvement and I don’t want you to become lazy, thinking that since I said you’re looking great you can just give up. Now’s the time to keep at it. Classes start shortly. I won’t have you slacking off on your work or putting more focus on what happens on this field than in your classes.”

  A few guys good naturedly roll their eyes, but they’re mostly all smart enough to know they’re here to go to school and play ball, in that order.

  “What about Ms. Bri, Coach? Will she still be hanging around? I think I could use some special one-on-one tutoring time off the field! Or on… whatever works for me.” Tyler, the starting center, hollers followed quickly by a slew of oohs and jabs in his direction.

  I chance a glance in Bri’s direction and am not surprised in the least to see she’s shaking her head, not bothered by his remarks.

  “That’s your warning, Tyler. I hear shit like that again and don’t think I won’t bench you.” I send what I hope is a glare in his direction, but really, I know he’s a decent guy and there was nothing but teasing behind his statement. At least, there better have been. Despite my initial fears, the entire team has been welcoming to Bri. After the first day of her on the field, interviewing anyone who had a few moments to give her whether they were on my list or not, the team started treating her like she was one of us.

  “Next week we’ll have another guest. A photographer from SI will be here to get some shots for Bri’s article. She’s already talked over with Drew what she’s looking for. We’ll have a team shoot but a lot of them will be candid, and I don’t want anyone thinking it’s their time to show off or try to gain the spotlight. This article is about the team, not any one person. Wipe those smirks off your faces—it’s not about me, either.”

  One more glance at Bri, but this one makes me want to shut down our team meeting and take her in my arms, and well… the list is pretty extensive of what I want to do to her. Her smile is wistful as a few wisps of hair kiss her cheeks, a hint of pink covering them from a day in the sun. But it’s the shade of green her eyes have returned to that has my knees almost buckling. A color so bright, like the color of emeralds. When we first locked eyes again at the bar, one of the first things I noticed was that the color in her eyes was dismal compared to the brightness I had gotten so used to looking into. Knowing that dazzling sparkle is back, and I’m a part of it, makes me feel like I could pretty much accomplish any challenge someone put me up to.

  The level of desire I have for this woman didn’t evaporate over time, or even dull. It only bloomed and flourished.

  Two hours later, I’m standing at Bri’s doorstep, taking a page out of my dad’s handbook. My dad decided to recreate their first date several years ago—it just so happened to be the same night as my first date with Bri. He looked like a giant weirdo, but it worked, and while I’m not going to that extreme, dressing up like I did on our first date, I am planning on reminding her where it all began.

  Given our schedules—or mine, rather—it’s not like either of us have time for as much dating as I’d really like so I’m going to have to make do with what I have available to me.

  A swift rapt of my knuckles on her door and it opens instantly.

  “Excited?” I ask teasingly, but more words instantly fail me as I take in the beauty before me.

  “Holy fuck,” I rasp, pressing a hand to my heart to make sure it didn’t beat right out of my chest.

  The little black dress she’s wearing had to have been made for her. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if I found out my sister Maggie had made it for her. We always thought she would go into fashion design but turns out she likes doing it on the side, the pressure of designing as a career wasn’t what she wanted out of life.

  I don’t know where to look first, my eyes darting from one body part to the next, each one just as perfect as the last. Thin straps are all that’s holding up the top as it drapes a little around her chest. The short skirt flares out about mid-thigh and when she turns, reaching for something behind her door, my eyes have the honor of seeing her back, completely open.

  “You’re fucking gorgeous,” I tell her when she turns back around, reaching out to wrap an arm around her waist. The fact I was around her all day and didn’t touch her once is a miracle. Now that she’s back in my life, I don’t plan on days going by without the feel of her skin on mine.

  Her pretty red lips lift into a smile and oh yeah, I’m looking forward to seeing those lips smeared really damn soon.

  The shiny dark hair I’ve been obsessed with for as long as I can remember is curled lightly in big loose waves and I have to fight the urge to reach down and adjust myself, hoping I’m not a walking hard on.

  When I first discovered Bri was more than just my buddy, that she was a girl—a beautiful girl—I had a hard time understanding the feelings. For years she and I were really good friends. Best friends. We would play together at recess, pair up with each other for class projects, even when she or I would have a crush on someone, we would talk to each other about it.

  Then one summer it all changed. She changed. Call me superficial, but the summer between our eighth grade and freshmen year, I started noticing the differences in her, and I definitely liked what I saw. Suddenly I was petrified of going to high school, knowing all the upper classman would be seeing exactly what finally caught my attention.

  Bri Jameson wasn’t just a girl who knew her football stats and could throw a ball better than most of the boys in our grade, she was a knockout with brilliantly shiny eyes, a curvy, athletic figure, long gorgeous hair… and it didn’t end at her looks. She was beautiful on the outside because that’s exactly what her heart was. Still is.

  That summer was a game changer for me, but I was scared. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship if she didn’t feel the same way. So I waited—and almost lost my chance. Other guys were constantly asking her out, and every single time I’d try to come up with reasons why she shouldn’t date them. She was mine.

  I lean down, brush a kiss across her temple, and slide my nose down the side of her face, kissing her once more below her ear.

  “Damn,” I whisper, smiling against her neck when I feel a shiver roll through her body, “you smell fucking amazing, too.”

  “Grady,” she says, voice wobbly.

  “I gotta get us the hell outta here or I’m not going to be able to stop myself from barreling right over the ‘take it slow’ sign.”

  “I wouldn’t stop you.”

  I groan. “You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?”

  She giggles and it’s like a thousand-pound weight is lifted off my chest. Six years ago, I felt like my life had turned to dust. Ever
ything I thought was laid out before me, my entire life plan was suddenly out of my reach and now it’s back again.

  Looking back, seeing who we are and what we’ve overcome on our own… I have no doubt in my mind that regardless of our past and what the two of us went through, it made us stronger as individuals. Maybe if she hadn’t gotten so scared and broken up with me, we’d have already been married. Maybe Anderson would have a cousin or two. But would either of us have our careers or would we have settled into a comfortable life, one that, no doubt, would have been great if she were by my side, but different, for sure.

  There’s not a time machine that allows us to see the paths our futures would have taken if we had just made one decision differently. For the first time in my life, I’m beginning to think that’s okay. Because if I’d have tried to control my future, tried to play puppeteer in my own life, I can’t imagine where I’d be right now.

  “What?” Bri asks, head turned to the side but eyes focused solely on me. My arm still wrapped tightly around her waist, I pull her body flush to mine and lean down, kiss her on the lips only once because I know if I start anything deeper, I won’t stop.

  “I can’t believe we’re here.”

  “I know. I’m so…”

  “No, Bri. You don’t need to apologize. I think everything happened for a reason. I don’t know how our lives would have turned out, but I do know this, what our lives are right now? It’s pretty incredible. But being able to share it with you, it makes the journey to get here so much sweeter. I know I have a deeper appreciation for you now.”

  “You always appreciated me,” she says, defending me.

  “I did,” I agree with a nod. “But it’s more intense. Fiercer or something. I’ve loved you for so long and got complacent. I thought you’d always be there by my side. When you weren’t, I was too stubborn and confused, immature, to question it. I won’t take you for granted again.”

  She looks between my eyes, slides her hands resting on my chest up around my neck, playing with my short hair. “I never once would have thought you took me for granted. I love you, Grady. I never once stopped loving you.”