The List

by Chantal Fernando

  I think this is how men make women crazy.

  *****

  “What star sign are you?” I ask him sleepily, my eyes closed, my head on his chest. His fingers soothingly run over my scalp and through my hair, the sensation making me almost fall asleep.

  “Virgo, why?” he asks in that deep tone of his.

  “Just wondering,” I say, not telling him that I’m kind of into star signs. Not the day-to-day crap, but the traits and qualities of each sign can be very interesting. “Doesn’t that mean your birthday is this month?”

  His hand pauses. "Yeah, it is.”

  “When?” I ask, perking up. I’m big on birthdays. I order cakes for the whole year in January, making sure no one misses out, and each cake is more extravagant than the next. Everyone I care about gets spoilt with presents, surprises, and parties. It’s just who I am, and what I like to do for the important people in my life.

  “Why?” he asks, fingers now moving to my neck.

  “Because I want to know?”

  I can hear the grin in his voice when he says, “Not telling.”

  “Why not?” I ask, annoyance filling me. Such a small bit of information, and he’s treating it like it’s a national secret or something. He does this, I’ve noticed. He doesn’t really like telling personal information about himself. I wonder why that is?

  “Because I don’t really make a big deal about my birthday,” he explains. “It’s just another day, you know? I actually forgot it was my birthday until my brother mentioned it.”

  “Is your brother older or younger?” I ask, listening intently, and holding on to every bit of information he gives me. I want to know everything about him, but it’s hard when he’s so closed off.

  Why do you want to get to know him when he’s leaving anyway?

  I ignore that thought that runs through my mind.

  “Younger.”

  “I have a younger brother, too,” I say, lifting my head and propping my chin on his chest so I can look at him. “I want to know when your birthday is so we can celebrate. Just because you’re here without your friends and family doesn’t mean we can’t make it a good one for you.”

  He rolls me over and kisses me. What he doesn’t do is answer my question. A few minutes later, while I’m going down on him, licking the head of his cock and looking up at him all seductively, I ask again, “When is your birthday?”

  He makes a choked sound, a kind of laugh, but shakes his head. “Not telling.”

  Fuck.

  He won’t even tell me his birthday while I have his dick in my mouth? The man has some willpower. You’d think I was asking him for his credit card number or something, but no, just his birthdate so I can do something nice for him. How stubborn can one man be? Maybe I need to up my game a little. I take as much of him as I can deep into my mouth, sucking hard, my cheeks hollowed, gagging a little when he hits the back of my throat.

  “How about now?” I ask when I release him with an audible pop.

  “You’re used to getting your way,” he says, a statement, not a question.

  Am I meant to answer that? I don’t know how to without incriminating myself further, so I just shove his cock back in my mouth. Is this why he won’t tell me anything? Because apparently I’m used to getting my way?

  So what if I am?

  He’s infuriating.

  And addictive.

  *****

  We fuck again before I need to get home. We chat about everything. His family, mine, his work. I talk about my job. I ask him personal questions women probably shouldn’t ask a man that isn’t theirs, but he answers without blinking. I ask how many women he’s been with, he says he doesn’t know. Because there’s so many? Or does he just not want to answer? I tell him about my ex-boyfriend, and why things didn’t work out. I tell him how I haven’t properly dated anyone in the last two years because I haven’t met anyone worthy of dating. He tells me that the reason he left the club that night, the reason he turned cold, was that he got some bad news from home. He was on his phone in the cab, so it makes sense. I don’t push him to tell me what that news was, and he doesn’t share. With the way he shut down though, he clearly has another side to him that I haven’t seen. I guess everyone does, though.

  The cab picks me up, and Eli walks me out the front shirtless. He’s so confident in his own skin; it’s like being with or without clothes doesn’t matter to him. I’ve never met anyone like that before.

  I wish I could be like that.

  He really is one of a kind.

  And I already can’t wait to see him again.

  Chapter Eight

  That night, Eli admits to me that it’s his birthday.

  That night.

  So I have no time to organise anything.

  He also, last minute, invites me out for a drink, but I’m watching Carter and can’t leave. How is this fair? I want to be with him on his birthday, and I could have if he’d given me even a little notice. He should have just told me yesterday when I had his cock in my mouth that his birthday was the very next day. He’s so unbelievable. The thought of him being out alone sucks; no one should be alone on their birthday. Hopefully his work mates will do something nice for him. I give Carter a bath after dinner and then put him to bed, and then try and get some work done. I wonder if we could do a do-over birthday for Eli, where I can get him a cake or something. He’d hate that though, since he says he doesn’t like anyone to make a big deal or fuss over him, but I really would like to do something nice. Will he let me though? I don’t want to cross any lines. He’s not mine, and I don’t want him to think I’m acting like he is. At the same time, a birthday should be celebrated, and it’s something I’d do for any one of my friends or family members. Maybe I could do something for him, but tone myself down a little, so it’s not out there? I send him a message and ask him if he wants to do dinner and drinks tomorrow. I can buy him dinner, cake for dessert, and then we can have a few drinks. That sounds like a fair compromise. It’s not like I’m going to show up at the pub with a huge cake, although the thought did cross my mind. My cake lady needs notice though, and she isn’t going to whip up something last minute for me. Surely me taking him out for dinner will be a nice gesture, and I hope he knows that I do care about him even if this is all we’ll ever have.

  I turn my laptop on just as he replies with, “Sounds good.”

  I imagine him sitting there alone at the bar. Yeah, he won’t be sitting there alone for long, now will he?

  I grit my teeth and force myself to do some work, all the while chanting, ‘he’s not mine’ in the back of my mind.

  He is not mine.

  *****

  I meet Eli at the pub after my burlesque dance class, and Keisha joins us for one drink before heading home.

  “How was dance?” he asks as we sit side by side, my shoulder touching his.

  “It was pretty good,” I say, nodding. “We’re learning a new routine.”

  “You’ll have to show me sometime,” he teases, keeping his eyes on me.

  “Maybe I will.” I arch a brow. We start drinking, and besides some potato skins to snack on, neither of us feels like eating. He also doesn’t let me pay for any of the drinks, which defeats the whole purpose of me trying to treat him for his birthday. A total birthday fail.

  “Will you at least let me buy you some cake? They have good cheesecake here,” I say. I’ve wanting to taste the chocolate cheesecake for a while now.

  “Is the cheesecake for me or you?” he asks, chuckling.

  “Why can’t it be for both of us?” I reply, lifting my chin. “You’re not making this whole wanting to spoil you for your birthday thing easy on me, are you?”

  He really is something else.

  I don’t know why I smile when I think of how difficult and stubborn he is.

  I think there’s something wrong with me.

  We order more drinks. I try to pay, but none of the bartenders take my money, they always take his. Don’t get
me wrong, I think the man paying is gentlemanly, and all that, but him paying all the time is absolutely ridiculous. He’s like one of those over the top alpha males I like to read about, but never knew existed in real life.

  Where did this man come from?

  I don’t want to get used to this, to him, because I have a feeling that once he leaves, no one else is really going to compare. I really shouldn’t be thinking like this at all. We walk to the next bar and have a drink there.

  “Do you play pool?” I ask him.

  “Maybe. Do you?”

  I shrug. “A little.”

  He barks out a laugh. “What’s the bet you’re a pool shark?”

  I laugh at that. “I’m not. I haven’t played in years.”

  And that’s the truth. We had a pool table growing up, and we played a lot, but I haven’t played in a long time and don’t think I’d be very good anymore. In fact, I know I’m not because I played a game with Keisha a few weeks back.

  “What about you?” I ask. “I bet you’re great at pool too. You’re good at everything.”

  “No, I’m not,” he denies.

  “Vodka pong?” I say with an arched brow and a smug look.

  He flashes me a grin. “Beginner’s luck.”

  “How long are you going to use that excuse for?” I ask, rolling my eyes. “I doubt very much that is the case.”

  “Yeah, okay,” he says, laughing. “I might have even been playing most of those shots left-handed.”

  My jaw drops. “Are you kidding me?”

  Not only did he beat me, but he did it left-handed? “Talk about adding insult to injury.”

  He wraps his arm around me, and I melt in to his hard body. “I might have played a few drinking games in my time, miss.”

  I grin against his red flannel. “You played me.”

  I actually thought he was telling the truth when he acted like he’d never played before.

  He laughs, finding my outrage amusing. “I even tried to let you win, you know.”

  Of course he did.

  “I demand a rematch,” I announce, lifting my head and narrowing my eyes at him. “And this time, Eli, I’m going to win.”

  “We’ll see,” he says, grinning. “You’re a little competitive, aren’t you?”

  “As if you’re not,” I say, arching my brow.

  “Perhaps I’ve met my match then.” His eyes dance with amusement.

  “Perhaps you have,” I declare, then ask him something else. “Why are you single, Eli?”

  In my eyes, he is the perfect man. I’m sure he’s not perfect, no one is, but he’s perfect for me. Beautifully flawed, he has an edge to him that I quite enjoy. But that heart? That heart is pure gold. And that is what speaks to me.

  “I was in a serious relationship a while back,” he says, taking a sip of his drink. “It didn’t work out. I don’t want a relationship now, especially with my job. I’m always travelling, you know? It just doesn’t work out with my lifestyle. I’d rather be single, it’s just easier.”

  I definitely hear what he’s saying, but I don’t think anything is impossible if you want it badly enough.

  So all I hear is that he doesn’t want me badly enough.

  That I’m not his exception.

  “Fair enough,” is all I can think to say. I wonder whom the woman is who let him go. She must be the stupidest woman on the face of the earth. I’d be so good to this man, but you can’t love someone into loving you. And I shouldn’t have to. I shouldn’t have to convince anyone to want to be with me. I’m a good woman—I’m beautiful and loyal, smart and thoughtful. Women like me are about as rare as men like him. Do I love him right now? No. But I could. I know I could.

  “My ex put me on a pedestal. I thought that’s what I wanted, but it wasn’t. I’d bat my eyelashes and get pretty much anything I wanted, but what I really want is someone to challenge me and make me better, you know?”

  “If you bat your eyelashes at me all you’re going to get is sex,” is his swift reply. The look in his eyes tells me that he means it. He’s not going to give me anything he doesn’t want to, and I can’t charm him into it.

  Fuck, he’s hot.

  I grin, bat my eyelashes, lift my hand and touch his bicep, and flash him a look I know he will understand.

  Enough talking, it’s time to play.

  His gaze lowers to my lips, and as if unable to help himself, he lowers his head to give me a quick kiss. That’s one way to shut me up and calm me down at the same time.

  I forget about the fact that he will never be mine and say, “I think we should go home now.”

  “My place or yours?” is all he asks.

  “Mine,” I say, standing.

  And we better get there quickly, too.

  *****

  My grip loosens on my headboard as I let go and slide off him, practically falling onto the mattress beside him. I turn to look at him the same time he does me. “What the hell am I going to do when you leave?”

  I’m getting used to this, the amazing sex and even better company. I know I should just enjoy it and then say bye to him, but I’m greedy, and I don’t want to let go of it. I know I have to, but that doesn’t mean I can’t feel a little sooky over it.

  “I have to leave eventually, Taye,” he says, brushing the hair off my forehead. “You always knew I would.”

  I did, yes, but that doesn’t change how I’m feeling right now.

  Doesn’t he feel this between us? The pull. The want. The need. There’s something trying to tether us together, and he’s either fighting it or ignoring it. That, or maybe I’m feeling all of these things alone. I don’t know what’s worse. I’ve never felt this way before, and now that I have, how am I meant to just carry on without it?

  Yes, we’ve only just met, and yes, I don’t really know him. But my gut is telling me I need to, that this could be something I’ve only read about in books.

  “When do you think you’ll be leaving?” I ask him, closing my eyes and just enjoying the feel of him next to me.

  “Maybe in a week or two. I usually don’t find out until the day before,” he explains. He sounds like he doesn’t mind. He likes his work, and I think he likes the unpredictability of it. I think Eli is a man who thrives off excitement, adventure, and new experiences. He knows nothing is permanent, and he’s okay with that. He just enjoys the now, and doesn’t worry about the future. It must be freeing to live like that. I, on the other hand, am a woman of routine. I’m a homebody; I don’t mind staying in the house all day, cooking, reading, or watching movies. I don’t mind being alone either. I like to go on adventures, I like to travel, but all of that is quite planned out and organized. Nothing I do is really spontaneous. I wonder if that part of me would bore him. Maybe he’d want to be with someone a little more exciting.

  “You could get a job here,” I blurt, regretting the words as soon as they leave my mouth. Apparently, I’ve lost my damn mind.

  Oh, and my dignity too.

  He’s said what this is, and what it isn’t, but I keep pushing him. It’s not even the fact that I’m used to getting what I want, men included, but I don’t remember wanting something, or someone, this much. I know it’s ridiculous for him to even consider taking a job here. We just met, for starters. If he lived here, it would be different, I think. I don’t want to rush into anything either, and I don’t like the all-or-nothing option we have going on, but the bottom line is, if I had my way he wouldn’t be leaving. We’d get to know each other, spend more time together, fuck… a lot.

  Laugh even more.

  Instead all we get is a taste of what could have been if things were different.

  If we were different.

  I have a feeling that this taste is going to stay with me for a long time to come.

  Such a short time with him, yet he’s shown me many things. I like that. He can teach me so much, and not just in the bedroom. I wish he could see himself through my eyes.

  “I actually d
id get offered a job here,” he coolly says.

  My eyes open.

  “Really?” I ask, trying to keep my tone casual. “And what did you say?”

  I hold my breath, waiting for his reply.

  “I couldn’t live here, Taye. It’s too cold. I like to be in the heat,” is his less than positive reply.

  I don’t know what I was hoping for, because he obviously isn’t staying, so he clearly didn’t take the job, but apparently he didn’t even consider it either.

  Because, you know, the weather.

  And of course there is nothing else to even tempt him into staying here.

  It kind of hurts, although the realist in me completely agrees with his logic. The bottom line is, I’m being ridiculous right now.

  I feel like someone should give my heart the memo.

  “Well, I guess we’ll just have to try and see each other as much as we can before you leave,” I say, running my index finger down the middle of his chest. A change of subject is definitely in order, and sex is the one thing we have in common, the one thing we’re united on.

  When he rolls on top of me and kisses me deeply, I know he agrees.

  Chapter Nine

  “You have DJ goggles,” I tell Nicky, who starts cracking up laughing.

  “What?”

  “You do. Every time we go out, even if the DJ isn’t hot, you think he is, just because he’s a DJ. DJ goggles.”

  She doesn’t bother to deny it, she just laughs into the phone. “As if you don’t have your own goggles.”

  “Yeah, I have vodka goggles,” I say, grinning. “Drunk me finds certain men hot that I normally might not, but I don’t get off on DJs, unlike someone I know.”

  “I just get good music played,” she huffs, but I can hear the smile in her tone. “You should be thanking me, Taye.”

  “Well the men definitely don’t stand a chance with your charm,” I tease. The woman is not only beautiful, but witty, friendly, and charismatic. Anyone she sets her sights on doesn’t stand a chance.

  “That’s true,” she replies casually. Yeah, we don’t really have any confidence problems. “How is Eli?”

  “Yeah, good,” I say, smiling at just the thought of the enigmatic man. “I’m seeing him on Saturday. He doesn’t know when he’s leaving, but it’s probably going to be soon.”