He glances at them, and nods. Either he knows them, or doesn’t care what trouble I’m getting into. The cab drive is fun; we all joke and tease each other, and we stop at Mr. Arrogant’s house. I fall in love with it instantly.
The house, not him.
Jeez.
He opens the door for us, and we walk in. It looks brand new, and is tastefully decorated, monochrome and sparse. Classy. A perfect bachelor pad if I ever saw one. The man has taste.
“Nice,” I say to myself.
Music is put on, and drinks are poured.
Soon, I’m dancing around their kitchen, laughing and having the time of my life. Mr. Arrogant, whose name is Chris, makes us food, and drunkenly picks us strawberries from his garden. He ends up being a really nice guy, although he clearly has some tortured soul thing going on. A good heart though, or at least that’s the impression I get. The men are clearly good friends, and I find myself laughing at their easy banter and fast wit.
“Your taste in music is awful,” I tell Chris, who acts offended. He’s my age, maybe a little older, but listens to older music than my mother.
“What would you choose then?” he asks, handing me his phone. I jump up on his kitchen counter, just like I would at home, and scroll through his songs. Everyone else heads outside for a smoke or whatever, and Chris and I end up alone.
We have a chat.
A deep chat.
His mind and insight surprises me.
And then he pulls me to dance. I tell him I dance burlesque, and he asks for a show.
I say no.
We playfully argue about it.
And then, when he drags me to his room and closes the door, something I honestly didn’t see happening, I don’t stop him. So after warning Keisha to stay away from this man, it’s me who ends up fucking him.
My first one-night stand.
It’s what I always wanted, isn’t it?
Chapter Sixteen
“Last night was the best night we’ve had in ages,” Keisha says as we catch a cab home in the morning, at about seven. She’d fallen asleep on the couch while I was in Chris’s bed, curing myself of my long dry spell.
I don’t regret it.
We fucked, and then we cuddled, and then we fucked some more, and it was just what the doctor ordered.
Maybe Eli is onto something with the whole sleeping around thing. It’s the best distraction there is, and I actually like the whole group of men. Maybe we could all hang out together again sometime.
“I agree,” I say, smirking. And not even because I got laid. The dancing, the laughing, and the way the guys treated us was really nice. I had a super time.
“And someone’s mum isn’t taking us home this time,” Keisha points out.
“Always a pro,” I add, resting my cheek against the window. My phone beeps, and it’s a message from Eli, making sure I made it home safe. Is this how it is for him? Replying to my messages with the taste of someone else in my mouth? I can still feel Chris, I still smell like him from being wrapped in his warmth, and now I’m messaging Eli. I don’t know how I feel about this. I thought it would be fine, I was even feeling good about fucking Chris, but one message from Eli has me questioning everything.
And I know it’s because my mind, and my stupid fucking heart, are still with him.
Even though he doesn’t want them, and never asked for them.
Or anything else.
He doesn’t fucking want anything from me, and I want to give him everything.
Everything.
And he’s the only man I’ve felt that way with.
I go home, have a shower, and then jump in bed.
I can’t have Eli, not all of him, and I need to stop having these weak moments when I feel sorry for myself over the fact. That’s not me. I don’t do weak. He wouldn’t like that version of me.
I don’t like her either.
*****
Eli sends me a picture of him with his back to the mirror, an arse shot. He hardly sends pictures, unlike me, who sends them all the time. He’s not into selfies, or anything like that. And I like that about him. He’s not vain. He’s just manly and confident. If he sends me something, it’s usually of what he’s doing, or where he is, so this picture throws me off. He looks sexy as hell; I love a nice, muscled back and his is amazing. It could be on a book cover, fuck, my book cover, and his arse is fucking biteable.
“I think we should add something else to the list. You doing a sexy photo shoot so I can put you on the cover of one of my books.”
“Hahaha… I’ll do that for you if you promise me one thing.”
“And what’s that?”
“I’ll tell you when I return.”
What? How infuriating. Now I’m going to be wondering what the hell he could possibly want from me.
“That’s not fair. Why don’t you just tell me now?”
“Nope.”
I roll my eyes. He’s so stubborn.
And so fucking delicious.
“Fine.”
“You going to throw a tantrum?” he asks, making me laugh.
“I don’t throw tantrums.”
“Just a lot of eye rolling and lip pursing?”
I laugh harder, because I did roll my eyes. And I’m onto him—I know how much he likes my attitude. “Guilty.”
“You are trouble, miss.”
I’m innocent compared to him. So innocent.
“Says you. I want you right now. Just like I always do. Why aren’t you here? I’m in the mood to sit on your face and grind my hips down onto your mouth, staring down and watching you while your tongue works its magic.”
Okay, maybe I’m not that innocent.
“Fuck, Taye. I remember how you taste too. So good. I’d love to have your pretty pussy all over my face. I love teasing you too. Kissing your inner thighs, caressing you, making you wet but not touching your clit….”
“Fuck. I remember. It drove me wild. I was begging for you to let me take your cock into my mouth after that.”
Boy, did I beg.
The mental and sexual connection is insane. It’s something that no one can replace. Someone better looking can come along, but it won’t matter. This goes beyond all that, and I think that is why I’m having such a hard time letting go, even though I should, instead of overthinking everything and breaking my own damn heart.
It’s not Eli breaking it, it’s me.
He knows all my weaknesses, my flaws, and he still thinks I’m wonderful. I can say anything, and he never thinks I’m a bad person.
He sees me, fuck does he see me, like no man has ever seen me before.
We chat in-between us both working, and like always, I find myself either smiling so hard that my cheeks hurt, or so turned on that I want to pull out my vibrator just to take the edge off. When I use it, I even say his fucking name when I come. It’s kind of fucked up, but this is what I don’t want to lose. This, right here. This connection. It doesn’t matter how far we are away from each other, or the fact that months have now passed. Words connect us, and feelings that don’t seem to go away.
Our souls dance ever so tangibly.
If we go on like this, and I still get to talk to him every day, I think I’d be okay with that.
And that is what scares me.
I know I probably need to let go of him, but I can’t.
No one can tell me how to feel. I own my feelings, I own my pain, and no one can tell me that I shouldn’t feel a certain way. And I can’t let go just yet, as stupid as it sounds.
I guess I’m still waiting, holding on to the hope that a miracle will happen and he will see that no one will ever love him as completely and irrevocably as I will.
*****
A few weeks later I re-emerge to catch up with Keisha over our usual alcoholic beverages. When I see Chris and his crew, I smile, knowing tonight just turned into a good night. I hug all of them, and Chris wraps his arm around me. He smells good, and he seems nice enough. We did have a go
od night together, even though it’s not him who consumes my thoughts. Maybe something less intense is exactly what I need right now.
“How have you been?” he asks me, eyes lingering on me. “I was hoping you’d be out tonight.”
“Really?” I ask in a dry tone, arching my brow. If he wanted to get into contact with me, he could have, but he didn’t. It’s a small town.
“Yes, really,” he murmurs, lacing his hand through my own. “Can I buy you a drink?”
I consider him, and then nod. Why not, right? I don’t have anything to lose. We head to the bar, order our drinks and chat.
And flirt.
If I’m being honest with myself, I don’t like the fact that Eli is no longer the last man I’ve been with. I don’t like it, but I have to let go at some point, right?
I always think about what’s best for him, what would make him happy, but he’s not doing the same for me, he’s thinking about himself.
I want Eli to be happy, more than anything.
But maybe it’s not me who can give that to him.
I push him out of my mind, and chat with Chris, getting to know him better. When he asks me to go home with him, I don’t refuse.
I don’t have a reason to.
Chapter Seventeen
Another month has passed, and the messages between Eli and me are still there, but are occurring less and less now. It’s more on his side than mine, and I know it, so I’ve stopped messaging as much too. Not because I don’t want to talk to him, because fuck, I do, but because if he wanted to talk to me more, he’d put in the effort to do so. He’s a man who would go after what he wants, and that’s clearly not me. Don’t get me wrong, I know he cares about me, and all of that, but it’s just not enough.
Maybe I don’t mean as much to him as I’ve been thinking this entire time.
And fuck if that doesn’t hurt.
He always says how he’s not much of person who checks in with his friends and family, and I’m the only one he keeps in contact with daily, but now even that is changing, and that was the one thing I had from him.
I miss his words, and I miss seeing his name pop up on my phone, but I can’t fight for us alone. If he doesn’t want me, there’s nothing I can do about it. Wanting him even more isn’t going to change that. I’m a good woman, I know my worth, and maybe the timing is just not right.
Stupid mother fucking timing.
Right person, wrong time.
At least right person on my side.
‘Mercy’ by Shawn Mendes plays on repeat, because apparently I like to torture myself.
When Eli and I do talk though, it’s exactly the same. The want hasn’t gone away, but I also know I’m okay without Eli, and I’ve kind of accepted it’s not going to happen. Do I think we will fuck again at some point? Yes, especially if his work sends him back here. But I don’t think anything else will happen; the hope has died, the happily ever after nothing but a fictional story like the ones I write.
I still want him, and I think I always will, but I don’t need him.
I don’t need any man.
Except, maybe, Carter.
I’m done chasing. I won’t have to chase the right man, or try to convince him that I’m good enough to be with; he’d already know that. Trying to be a loyal woman to a man who only wanted to be loyal to being single was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. The only bad part is that my guard is up higher than ever, or maybe that’s the good part. I won’t let anyone in, but at least I won’t get hurt anymore either.
And then there’s Chris. Although I’ve been keeping him at arm’s length, I’ve still allowed him into my life. I still see him, spend time with him. Fuck him. He’s not Eli though.
Then again, no one ever will be.
I published my novel, and it’s doing well. I won’t quit my editing job just yet, though. I only want to make safe decisions from now on.
Safe is good.
My phone beeps.
“What are you up to, trouble?”
I smile.
*****
It’s New Year’s Eve, and I’m looking and feeling amazing. In a tight, short black dress, black stilettos, and red lips, I feel a million dollars. Drink in my hand, I glance at my friends and smile. I love New Year’s. That feeling of a fresh start, a new year, it motivates me to achieve even more goals in the coming year, and pursue even more of my dreams. I’m even wearing silver glitter on my eyelids, something that only happens about once a year. We order the most expensive vodka to celebrate, and take a picture I know we will cherish for years to come.
“I can’t get over how amazing you look tonight,” Chris whispers into my ear.
I turn to him and smile. He’s been patient with me over the last few months, and I’m happy to be bringing in the New Year with him. I don’t have those intense, all-consuming feelings with him that I did with Eli, but maybe that’s for the best. It’s safe, he’s safe, but he still makes me happy, and that’s what counts.
“I would have thought you’d be used to it by now?” I tease, grinning at him. “You don’t look half bad yourself.”
He glances down at his brand new shirt. “What? This old thing?”
I wrap my arms around the back of his neck and press my cheek against his chest. “You smell good, too.”
“So do you,” he murmurs, inhaling deeply. “This perfume drives me crazy, but you know that already, don’t you?”
I pull back and smile up at him. “I wore this before I even met you, so don’t blame me.”
He kisses my lips gently, then my forehead. “Do you want another drink?”
“Yes, please,” I tell him, then turn to Keisha, who pulls me by her side, our hips touching.
“Bringing in another New Year together, hey,” she says, lips quirking.
“Here’s to many more, my friend,” I tell her, kissing her cheek. I let go of her waist and turn to look at Chris, who has moved along the bar, ordering us all drinks.
With my back to the bar, I slide my phone out of my clutch and lift my head, absently scanning the crowd.
Then I do a double take, because I see the side profile of someone who looks a lot like…
No, it can’t be?
A shiver runs down my spine, my whole body tingling, every part of me suddenly on alert.
Is it him?
Fuck me dead.
He’s walking towards the exit, head down, and I know that I need to find out for myself if it really is him, or if my mind is playing tricks on me.
“I’ll be back in a second,” I tell Keisha, and then quickly walk to the exit, stepping outside and looking to where the man is now walking down the street.
I take a chance.
“Eli?” I call out.
He stops in his steps.
It is him.
What is he doing here?
I all but run to him, heels and all, not caring about anyone around me. He’s fucking here. And he was about to walk away without even saying anything to me.
Is this what we’ve become?
I say his name again, softer this time, and he turns around and looks at me, those blue eyes hitting me with full force. He’s just as I remember him, and like a magnet, I can feel us being drawn together.
“You’re here,” I whisper, taking him in from head to toe. I’m greedy for him, and even if I don’t touch him my gaze eats him up.
“You look…” He takes a breath. “Unbelievable.”
“Thank you,” I tell him, shifting on my feet. “Why didn’t you tell me you were back? Did work send you here?”
He looks away from my eyes, and pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. “I don’t know, I guess I wanted to surprise you.”
He doesn’t comment on the work thing.
“Well, consider me surprised,” I tell him, wondering what’s going on in that mind of his. He stopped messaging, stopped replying, except the casual out of nowhere response, once I’ve learnt not to expect. Yet with him right in
front of me, it’s like nothing has changed, like we’ve never been apart. The chemistry is still here, the pull, stronger than ever, but that doesn’t mean it changes anything between us.
He lights his smoke, and steps away so it’s not in my face. Taking a draw, he studies me, and says, “I saw you in there.”
I swallow hard. He saw me with Chris, and that’s why we both don’t know what to say to each other. He’s here, he came back, just like he promised, but things have changed. They only changed because of him, though.
I’d have waited for him, without even looking at another man, because I know he is worth it, but he didn’t want that. He didn’t want me to wait, because he didn’t want me to consider him mine, he also didn’t want to wait without sex, I suppose, or without other women.
Yet, the look on his face right now… he didn’t like seeing me with another man.
“Is that why you walked away without saying anything?” I ask him, understanding his actions. If I saw him with another woman… I’d walk away too. It would hurt, no matter what the circumstances between us would be.
He nods, studying me now, looking into my eyes as if searching for something. “You with him?”
I nod, but in this moment, I wish I wasn’t.
A muscle ticks in his jaw, but he says nothing. Then, after putting his cigarette out, he steps to me, wraps his arm around me and kisses the top of my head.
“Is he good to you, Taye?” he asks in a soft, almost vulnerable tone.
I’ve never heard that in his voice before.
“Yes,” I reply.
“Good,” he whispers, watching me. Then he says to me, “Work didn’t send me here.”
With those words like a punch to my chest, he walks away.
I don’t stop him.
Instead, I wrap my arms around myself, and consider his words. He came here, for me, and only for me.
And I was with Chris.
I’m with Chris.
I don’t know what to do with this. I don’t know how to fix it, or if I’m even supposed to. I want to go after him, but I don’t. If I do, I will sleep with him, and never want to leave him, and Chris doesn’t deserve that.
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