by F. T. Zele
After I feel that tiny stab of disappointment, I make sure to throw myself into my workout, taking all my anger out on my body and doing more than what the trainer asks me to do. I avoid the looks from Sophie, trying to ignore her matchmaking act. At least this way I won’t hear about my self-destructing.
After we finish and I make it back home, I take a quick shower and dress in my sweats with nothing to do. My phone alerts me of a new text. It’s from Braxton. We exchanged numbers the other day.
Braxton: I was sure you would’ve called to tell me how much fun you had with me. I guess I didn’t get the message.
Me: Very funny. I’ve been busy. How are you?
Braxton: Great, are you busy tonight? I want to show you something.
Even though I have nothing to do tonight, keeping my distance is what’s best for me.
Me: Yeah, I have something to do. Sorry. Maybe next time?
Braxton: What are you doing? Coming to one of my bars?
Me: I just have some stuff to do. No, not at your bar. But thanks, anyway.
Braxton: Bullshit! I bet you’re just sitting at home in your sweats tonight.
I look down at my sweats. Fuck, am I that transparent? As I begin to reply, asking him who he thinks he is and why he thinks he knows anything about my plans or me, my doorbell rings. Not expecting anybody, I assume it’s Sophie just dropping by for a moment to make sure I’m not in a rut. Sounds like something she would do.
I open the door, not even looking and head back to the couch, saying, “I’m fine, Soph, really. Just gonna stay in tonight.”
“Bullshit! I knew you were avoiding me. I thought we had fun. I was on my best behavior.”
I’m stuck in place when Braxton’s smooth, deep voice catches my attention. Slowly turning around with my mouth agape, I stare, feeling completely dumbfounded. How the hell did he find out where I live? If Sophie did this, she better be afraid. I don’t let people come to my house. It contains pieces of me that I don’t share about myself.
“How did you get my address? You can’t just come here unannounced, thinking you can persuade me to change my mind. This is a complete invasion of my privacy.” It all comes out in a rush. I’m sure there’s steam coming out of my ears from the anger I feel right now.
“Liz, the Internet has everything. It wasn’t hard to find you. Like I said, I need to show you something. You have to come with me,” he says, like what I say doesn’t matter.
I freeze. He was searching the Internet for me. I’m scared, like really fucking scared to think he found information about my past on there. It’s not a secret. Things were printed in the papers about my ex, and when I did what I did, that was also headline news where I live. It has taken since then for everyone to stop looking at me like I’m going to break. The last thing I need is for Braxton to treat me with kid gloves. I want to be treated like anyone else.
“What do you want, Braxton? I thought I just told you I was busy, busy with friends, busy alone, it doesn’t matter. You’re crossing the line here. Stop digging before you find out something you don’t want to know,” I say, exhausted. I want to grab my quart of ice cream and watch sad movies tonight, alone.
“All right, I get it. I was just excited about something and wanted to show you. But, hey, if you want to sit around and mope alone, go for it. I’ll get out of your hair. See ya.” He walks toward the door to leave.
“Stop,” I say, hoping he won’t walk out the door. I must like this sort of torture. Why I can’t just let him take a hint and leave, I don’t know. “Sorry, you just caught me off guard. I really wasn’t expecting to see you. What is it you wanted to show me?”
His eyes light up, like he won some sort of prize. “Get dressed and meet me outside. It’s a short drive from here. Nice place, by the way, it’s very . . . um . . . you.” He walks out the door and closes it behind him.
What the hell does that mean? Very me? My house is empty now that Sophie and I took down everything that reminded me of Jacob, which was almost everything. Shit, am I really that empty?
I rush to my room and throw on a simple pair of jeans and a cute top. I run a brush through my still wet hair and tie it up into a messy bun. It’s nothing special, but anything will do right now. I quickly apply some mascara and add some sheer pink gloss to my lips. It normally doesn’t take me too long to get ready, but this is record time for me.
Once I get to the door, I slip my feet into some flats and grab my purse from the entry table. I make my way down the driveway until I reach Braxton waiting in the car. He notices me getting close and hops out of his side and walks toward me.
“You look great. Here, let me get your door.” After he opens my door, I slide inside and smile at how nice it feels to have someone open a door for me. He also told me I look great, seeing as I only threw on some clothes and a little mascara. Now I feel guilty for being so harsh earlier.
“Thank you,” I reply, once he gets back in. He starts the car, and I dare to ask, knowing I’m going to get shot down. “Where are we headed? I mean, if you’re going to drag me out of my house, you might as well tell me where we’re going.”
He looks at me, and it’s written all over his face. He enjoys not telling me where we’re going. Both times we have been in his car, our destination has been some huge secret. The first time was his new house, which blew me away, so I can only imagine where we are going this time.
“You should have known by now I’m not going to tell you. Just know that you’re the only person I’ve taken there.” He reaches over and squeezes my leg in that incredibly ticklish spot above the knee and to the sides. I jerk my leg away from his grip, laughing.
About five minutes later, we pull into the drive-thru. I look out my window, then back to him. I do this a couple of times until he can’t contain his laugh anymore.
“Just kidding. I would never take you to get fast food, unless that’s what you wanted.”
“Who said there’s going to be a next time being out together? You’re very sure of yourself,” I say, pulling his chain.
“Okay, I deserved that one. Are we even now?” He extends his hand to me, wanting to shake on it.
“Deal.” I shake his hand, but hide the fact my other hand had my fingers crossed behind my back. I can’t be too sure to agree yet.
When we pull into a dark parking lot of what looks to be an old abandoned building, I’m a little bit skittish to get out of the car, but looking over to Braxton, I’m sure he wouldn’t let anything happen to me.
We walk up to the front door, and he puts the key in and opens the place. Once we walk inside, he reaches over next to the door and flips on the lights, and the whole place comes into view. What appears to be a long counter is located off to the side, and I can imagine it was once used as a bar. It’s dusty and dark inside, and I’m not too sure why he has brought me here.
Then it clicks. He must be opening a new bar in this spot. It’s perfect with the spacious floor plan.
“So, you’re opening a new bar? It’s a big building with a good location. I’m sure it will be as successful as your others,” I say, walking around to get a feel for the place.
“Nope, well, not exactly. Remember I told you about opening a restaurant? This,” he gestures with his hands the space around him, “is where it’s going to be. What do you think?” The pride and excitement emanating from every inch of him is suddenly the most attractive thing.
“I think that’s great. You seem really excited about this place. Congratulations! When are you planning on opening?”
“Oh, well, not for a while. I saw this place for sale about a month ago, and I called the agent. Seems as though it was foreclosed on from the last owners, and I got a sweet deal on it. I couldn’t turn it down, and I got the keys today. Opening a restaurant takes a lot more planning than opening a bar, but I’m up for the challenge.”
I can’t say that I’m surprised by his determination. I know his other places are gold mines, so I have no doubt thi
s will be just as good, if not better. “Well, it’s great, really. It’s going to be awesome.”
We walk around some more as he explains what he’s thinking about doing to the place, and he already seems to envision what it’s going to look like. When we get to the old bar, he looks at it, and I step behind it, wanting to visualize the entire place.
He walks up behind me. “I don’t know what I’m going to do here yet. I was thinking something a little different. Maybe not a fully stocked bar, but a wine bar, with a large variety and no hard liquor. I want it to be a classy establishment, without a bunch of drunken people stumbling around. I want polar opposite from what I’m used to.”
I can’t help but notice how with the mention of what he is used to, anger flashes through his eyes quickly. There is something about bars and inebriated people that has obviously affected him in his life. But I don’t get it. He owns two of the most successful bars around.
As fast as the anger comes, it disappears. I don’t push it either. I’m not an open book, and I will not expect someone else to be with me either.
“I was thinking oak wine racks down the back wall here with lights behind them showcasing the wines. This bar here, to be covered in corks, with the tops facing up and a clear acrylic poured over it to make it smooth and sealed, so you don’t get those water marks.”
I run my hand across the bar, getting a vivid picture of what he’s describing. “I think that’s a great idea. I’ve never seen anything like that. If done right, it could be tasteful and not cheap looking.” As I turn to look at him, I bump into him chest to chest, not realizing he was that close to me.
The look in his eyes instantly throws me into a trance. The connection I thought I felt before is there, but more intense than I have felt before. I don’t know if it has something to do with him sharing his dream with me tonight, but I can’t look away. I shiver involuntarily, sending goose bumps down my body.
“What do you think of my vision here?” His lips are so close to mine as he whispers those words that I can’t form a response. He places one hand on my lower back, pulling me closer to him and igniting a fire with his touch.
I don’t know what comes over me next. I lick my bottom lip, which entices him to press his warm lips to mine. He deepens the kiss while his tongue brushes my lips, making me act purely in the moment. Pouring out years of pent-up needs I’ve ignored, I wrap my arms around him, reconnecting with the feeling of being desired.
Heavy in the moment, he lifts me and places me onto the dusty old bar, and I don’t care about anything other than right now, the connection between two people. I have missed this feeling.
After breaking the kiss, I get a little embarrassed and lower my head to his shoulder. We are both panting, trying to catch our breath, when I reach up and touch my lips, still able to feel him on them, and I realize I am in way deeper than I thought. There’s no going back.
“I’m sorry, but I’m not who you think I am. I’m only going to disappoint you. I’m nothing like the girls you’re used to.”
“You don’t even know what I’m used to, so just stop before you ruin this moment. It’s getting late, and I should get you home,” he says as he rubs up and down my back with both of his hands.
Nodding, I hop off the bar and make my way to the front and out to his car. He locks up and once again opens my door, and we ride in uncomfortable silence to my place.
The first night I saw Liz, I felt like a stalker, hiding behind people or walls just to get close to her. I got sick of that void look in her eyes, and I had to get away from her. I came back to my office to breathe and to place some distance between us, but it didn’t help having the whole place under surveillance cameras that are displayed on flat screens in my office, and she stuck out like a sore thumb. I couldn’t keep myself from watching her. I watched on the monitors, as her friend didn’t seem to care that she looked miserable and didn’t want to be here. It pissed me off for a couple of reasons. First, as a business owner, I want everyone to have great service and continue to spend their money, so if it looks like someone is less than excited to be there, I think about what I can do to make it better. I want them to come back, knowing they will always have a good time.
Secondly, I know what it’s like to do something you don’t want to do. That was my whole life growing up—forced to take care of shit at home because my father was a sorry excuse of a man and wouldn’t take care of his family. Someone had to do it, and my mother’s fragile state left her in no condition to feel that burden.
When I saw Liz and her friend close out their tab, I left my office, positioning myself by the front doors, pretending to greet some regulars that came in. That’s when she walked by me to leave, and she caught my eyes. The air got thick, and I got a good look at her and how her too tight slacks hugged every inch of her incredible ass.
I kept seeing her everywhere. After a couple of times, always noticing something was off, I wondered what was so bad in her life that she couldn’t just live. When I finally decided to approach her, hoping if I talked to her, I could put my suspicion to rest, she called me out. My approach was meant to be funny, but what she doesn’t know is she was dead-on when she told me I was full of myself.
I’ve been sitting at my desk in my office for the last two hours, trying to go over the books so they will be ready when the accountant comes in this month, but all I can think about is Liz and the way she tasted when we kissed, so fucking sweet. I wasn’t expecting that. I was just trying to have a little fun finding her limits, because she’s always telling me no or acting like she doesn’t know who I am. She’s become some sort of game without me realizing it.
I was waiting for her to push me away, to ask me what the hell I was thinking. Sadly that wasn’t what happened. I was actually hoping she would smack me, make me snap out of it and realize I can’t take what I want without permission. Hell, I don’t even want permission, but she did the opposite. She kissed me back. When she wrapped her delicate arms around my back, I was shocked, and that only made me want to rip her damn pants off her right there and show her what an asshole I am.
I rake my hands through my hair as the frustration escalates. The urge to claim her lips once more is driving me up the wall. This was just supposed to be fun. I usually don’t have time for repeats; I’ve learned my lesson with that. I can’t have another person leading my attention away from what I’ve worked so hard for. That’s not what I need right now. I need to remain focused to make this work, and that can’t be compromised, especially if I want to open a new place and continue to make the money I need to.
I’ve always worked hard, and I like having things I want. I’m not somebody who gets told no often. I own businesses to be the boss, to make the rules, and to have control. That’s the problem with Liz. I feel out of control around her. I have no control over my feelings. She’s difficult, but I can’t leave her alone.
Just thinking about her frustrates me. I slam my hand down onto my desk, swiping the papers that are in front of me, sending them flying around the front of my desk. A knock sounds at my door as the papers hit the floor. “What do you want?” I bark, not knowing whom it is. Tyler pokes his head inside, and I feel bad. He’s my best friend and keeps shit together for me when I can’t be at one of the bars.
“Man, what’s crawled up your ass?” he asks, looking around my office that is usually perfect.
I don’t like things out of order. Everything has a place. Tyler crouches, starting to pick up the papers that are littered all around.
“Sorry, man, just leave them. I’ll get them,” I say as I walk around to grab the papers from his hand.
“So, you wanted to see me?” he asks, taking a seat in one of the chairs.
“How well do you know this Sophie chick? You’ve been hanging out with her a lot.” I cross my arms as I lean back on my desk, hoping he knows something about Liz. I’m sure she has said something about her.
“What do you want to know? We get along and are
having some fun.”
“What about her friend Liz? Has she said anything about her?” I inquire, digging deeper for anything. I feel like a drug addict. I know she’s no good for me, and she could fucking ruin me, but I can’t stop myself. I need more of her.
“Sophie hasn’t really said much about her, other than Liz has been going through a bunch of horrible shit, and she’s trying to shake her out of her funk.” Conflicting feelings rush through me about who the fuck has hurt her, but then the piece of shit in me comes out. I bet she doesn’t know what hitting rock bottom feels like.
Her problems are probably tiny, like what purse doesn’t match her outfit or how her parents are bugging her to get married and have kids. Like I said, stupid shit that doesn’t compare to real fucking problems. Problems I put aside every day.
“If they come in, take care of them. If I’m not here, call me and let me know. I’ve got to get out of here for a bit.” Grabbing my keys off the desk, I wait for Tyler to get to work and then head out, hoping a drive will calm me down a bit. I don’t know what the hell she’s doing to me, but it isn’t good. I shouldn’t be in such an uproar just thinking about her.
I drive some windy roads and push my car a little more than I should, but the rush makes me feel alive and free. Nothing can get me when I’m all by myself out here.
“New text from Liz,” my car alerts me. What fucking timing.
Liz: Haven’t heard from you. How are you?
I don’t know if I should respond. I take a minute and think about what I would say to her. That I can’t stop thinking about her. That when her lips touched mine, they fucking branded themselves into my brain, and I can’t forget them. I’ll sound like a huge pussy.
Me: I’ve been busy with planning the new spot. What are you doing?
Liz: Nothing much. Want to grab a drink?