The Science of Loving

by Candace Vianna

  “Yo, Ash, a little space please?” Pasting a fake what-you’re-talking-about look on her face, she kept her fingers locked on my belt. Shit. I crossed my arms over my chest and stared her down. Bitter experience had taught me a firm request, reinforced with unbroken silence was the safest way to get an aggressive female to back the fuck off in public. Doing anything else, either encouraged them, or I came off looking like a bully. And there was always some asshole, usually a little guy with something to prove, who thought he was going to teach me some manners. Schmuck.

  The conversations around us petered out during our passive contest of wills, and Ashley finally dropped her hand, trying to laugh it off. “Oh Matty, you know I just can’t help myself when it comes to you.” God, she was batting her fucking eyelashes at me.

  “Try harder. And quit with the Matty shit.” I hated that. It sounded so fucking cutesy. I was many things, but cute wasn’t one of them. Only my mom got away with that kinda shit. And that was only because my mom was a badass when it came to laying down guilt. She could make hardened criminals fold under the weight of her disapproval. Who do you think taught Danny?

  I headed for the patio with Ashley trailing after me like a fucking anchor. I stopped just outside letting my eyes adjust to the dim light, scanning the yard. There was a sweet looking girl hiding in the shadows at the patio’s edge. She had a pale, heart shaped face framed in dark curls. That had to be the pixie—hey, she’s a cutie. Danny might’ve actually come through—I watched her back up as a troll loomed over her, her rigid posture telegraphing her discomfort. And when troll boy touched her face, she literally flinched. Oh, hell no.

  This was why I hated parties. Inevitably, I drew the attention of creepiest, most annoying guy there. Once caught, I could never shake them. By the end of the night, I was a nervous wreck with an upset stomach and a headache.

  “Please leave me alone.” I was already backed as far as I could go without falling into the bushes. I sounded weak, but I couldn’t help it. I never knew what to do when guys like this cornered me so I froze, unable to move, or breathe or think. When he brushed a nonexistent hair from my cheek, I could almost feel him leaving a trail green slime.

  “I know you don’t mean that.” Uh, yeah, I do. “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want to party.”

  “Excuse me. I know you’re not macking on my girl.” Holy Shit! That’s the scariest man I’ve ever seen. And he was standing right behind Spindly staring holes in his back. God, he was huge and bald, covered in tattoos like a painted Aztec god. All he needed was a bloody alter and some gold jewelry.

  “Look dude, I saw her first and I’m not done with her.” He straightened, making a weak attempt at puffing out his concave chest—Spindly should really turn around and check out the monster behind him.

  “Oh, but you are,” said my savior. Although, considering what a creep magnet I was, he was more likely a serial killer. Torchlight glistened off his head as his tattoos twisted and rippled down his outstretched arm. He was scary-beautiful and although I was struck dumb as usual, my fingers slipped into his hand of their own accord while he kept his eyes firmly fixed on Spindly’s back and drew me to him. Just as I stepped around him, Spindly grabbed me and I gasped as his fingers dug into my arm. I’d probably have bruises tomorrow. “You’ve got about two seconds to unhand her before I break you in fucking half,” Killer growled.

  The creep dropped my arm like he was scalded when he finally saw the monster at his back. “Sorry dude, I didn’t know she was your girl.”

  “Well, now you do.” He wound a beefy limb around me, and tucked me into his side. “Are you okay babe? I’d be happy to kick his ass for you.”

  I gaped, momentarily stunned by grey eyes sparkling with mischief. Meeting Spindly’s pleading eyes, I stammered, “I…I’m sure that won’t be necessary.” Then looked down—oh my God, even his feet were huge.

  I felt his arm constrict around me as he said in a quietly menacing voice, “I think it would be best if you left.”

  He held out his hands, placating, “Yeah, yeah, I hear you dude,” before addressing someone behind us. “Come on Ashley.”

  “You go ahead,” she said, stepping up next to us, “I’ll catch a ride with someone else.”

  “No Ash, you won’t.” His voice was a quiet threat. This was what death sounded like, not hotly raging, but cold, murderously calm. “I thought I made it clear. I don’t want you anywhere near me. You. Need. To. Get. The. Fuck. Out.” My heart tripped—oh, God, he was a serial killer—I froze against his heat, a twisted part of me wondering how he’d do it: Like a python, his gigantic muscles, crushing me breathless, or maybe he’d just smother me against his chest… His hard, hard chest… He could probably boink me to death and I’d thank him all the way to the grave. God, I had the worst survival instincts ever. If my life were a horror movie, I’d be that first splash of blood in the opening scene.

  Ashley raised her chin as if she were about to argue and he just stood there like an impassive mountain, stonily silent. Finally, she relented, shooting me an arsenic glare. “Fine. Come on Pauly.”

  My breath remained trapped long after she flounced out of sight. I was very much aware of the meaty arm coiled around me, vibrating with leashed power that could turn on me at any moment and a delicious fear shivered from the tips of my ears down my spine. This was why serial killers got fan mail, this dark thrill. Just as my vision began to grey, I heard him murmur, “Breathe.”

  It figured Ashley brought the troll. I couldn't believe how angry I was as my eyes followed them out of sight. The girl had been frightened and that sick fuck was getting off on it. I could still feel her trembling, although she hadn’t moved or made a sound. Hell, I was probably scaring her.

  “Breathe.” I told myself, taking a deep breath then letting it out slowly, forcing myself to relax. I gave her one last squeeze before releasing her.

  “Hey,” I said softly. She looked away when I tried catching her eyes. Yep, definitely scared. “I’m Mathew, Mat, Danny’s brother.” Dark, lost eyes flitted over my face and I was thunder struck. All I wanted was to hold her until the fear was gone. “Are you Angie?”

  She nodded, blushing.

  “Come on sweetheart, let’s get a drink then see what trouble Danny’s cooked up.” I smiled, trying, but most likely failing, to look harmless as I offered her my hand, hoping she’d take it again. And exhaled when her smaller one disappeared inside my grasp. She was so tiny.

  “Okay,” I said, after leading her to the coolers, “we’ve got Bud, Coors, Coronas… Some sort of wine coolers. What’ll be your pleasure?”

  She cleared her throat. “Um… A Coors please.” Her voice was so softly I had to strain to hear it.

  “A Coors it is.” I grabbed a can, brushing the ice off the top. I wiped it clean with my shirttail and cracked it open, handing it to her with a flourish. Then plucked out a Corona and popped the cap off on the side of the cooler. I took a long drink, studying her out of the corner of my eye. I don’t know why I was surprised when she took a healthy swallow herself, I guess I assumed she’d be a sipper.

  “Come on, let’s find D.D.” I reached back snagging her hand. No, sweetheart you’re not getting away just yet.

  “D.D.?”

  “Demented Danny.” A shy smile flitted far too quickly across her face before our eyes meet. You’d better believe Danny was going to hear about the troll later. I couldn’t believe that fucktard thought it was okay to put his hands on her like that.

  The kitchen was blessedly empty, but bad karaoke floated on the air—well hell, Danny’d found it—I might’ve accidentally misplaced her karaoke machine on purpose, but she deserved it after plying me with tequila one night then posting videos of me singing show tunes on Facebook. Although, my “White Lightening” rendition wasn’t too bad, posting my cover of “Hopelessly Devoted” was just plain cruel.

  “Shit, Danny found the karaoke machine. Please tell me you’re a fellow hater.”
<
br />   “There’s not enough booze in the world.” Yea, an ally. “But from what I saw on Facebook, you didn’t seem to hate it all that much.” Motherfucker.

  “Yeah, tequila makes me stupid.”

  “That’s why I only drink it under duress,” she said seriously.

  “Well, unfortunately, Danny has the same effect on me, hence, the tequila.”

  “She said as much earlier. I guess we endure a lot from the people we love.” She looked sad, even though she was smiling.

  “Okay here’s the plan. You go in there, and throw yourself on the grenade while I run and hide. We go on three.” Hey a real smile. “No dice, huh?”

  She shook her head, blushing. “Maybe you should try hiding the tequila instead.”

  “I can’t do that. It would be unfair to make Danny take the fall for all my stupidity.”

  I’d just finished rinsing my empty Corona bottle when this drunk chick stumbled in. She flung her arms around my neck, falling against me. “Hey you… I just want to lick you all over.” Booze breath. Nice.

  “No you don’t, I’m icky.” I untangled myself and reached out to steady her when she began to sway. “Where’s your car?”

  “You wanna go for a ride?” She smoothed her hands down my chest. I grabbed her wrists when she tried slipping under my shirt. “We don’t need a car for that. C’mon baby, there’s gotta be a bed around here somewhere.”

  “Not happening, darling. I just don’t want you driving.”

  “Bet I can change your mind handsome. I can be a lotta fun.” She was having trouble focusing her eyes—uh oh, I knew that look—I spun her around in time for her vomit to mostly land in the sink, right on top of my freshly washed Corona bottle. Motherfucker.

  I held onto her until she was puking up nothing but air and spit. “All done there?”

  She nodded weakly.

  Shit, Angie’d escaped while I was busy with puke girl. After I helped her to a kitchen chair, I got a washcloth from the drawer by the sink, the stench of alcohol laced vomit making me gag—dammit, I’m not cleaning that up… Shit, yes I am. Fuck—she’d just taken the cloth from me when Angie returned with a sweating bottled water.

  “Thanks girlfriend, even if I don’t know who you are.” At least that’s what it sounded like. She was slurring so much it was hard to tell. Then her eyes started to fill. Shit, I hated when they cried. “I’m sorry.”

  I knew with a glance that in a few minutes semi-conscious-drunk-girl would be passed-out-cold-girl, so I let Angie handle her while I held my breath and quickly hosed out the sink, hoping I wouldn’t add to it. “Here, let’s get her to the guest room then we’ll let Danny know.”

  “I’ll go tell her,” Angie said.

  I lunged, grabbing the back of her shirt when she made a break for it. “Nice try, sweetheart, but there’s no way you’re leaving me alone with a barely aware drunk chick. Who knows what she’ll accused me of later? This time tomorrow, the cops could show up at my door, and before you know it, I’m rocking an orange jumpsuit, singing Summer Lovin’ with a guy named Snake.”

  I would’ve tossed Angie’s new bestie over my shoulder if she hadn’t stopped me. “I wouldn’t carry her like that, not unless you want sick down your back.” Good point.

  When we got to Danny’s guest room, Angie squeezed around me opening the door. She turned down the bed before stepping aside, so I dump Miss Lotta-Fun on it. Angie tugged off her shoes and arranged her limbs more comfortably, setting the half-finished water on the table beside her. She really is sweet.

  “Come on, sweetness.” I held out my hand. “Time to let Satan know she has a fallen soldier.”

  Danny’s face lit up when she saw us together. “Angie, I see you’ve met Mat.”

  “Oh, yeah,” I said. “And baby sis, we need to have a long, long talk about the company you keep.” She just snorted at me, scratching her chin with her middle finger. Motherfucker!

  Mat’s hand engulfed mine as I followed him through the crowded home. Ink peeked from the neck of his strained tee shirt, and I was hypnotized by the loose jeans riding low on his hips, alternately hugging and releasing his behind. I should have known Danny’s brother would be every bit as cool as she was. “—and baby sis, we need to have a long, long talk about the company you keep.” Wait, did she just flip him off?

  Oh, he wasn’t happy. Now that he no longer needed a chaperon, he was probably looking for a graceful way to ditch me. “Well, it was nice meeting you, but… Umm… I really need to get going,” I said, letting him off the hook before turning to Danny. “So thanks for inviting me?”

  I tried disentangling my hand, but Mat wasn't letting go. If anything, his grip increased, and I flushed as he studied me. “It’s only seven-thirty, sweetheart.”

  Danny looked at me like I’d gone nuts. “No, girlfriend,” she said, hooking an arm around my neck. “What you need is a blowjob,”

  “Oh, hell yeah!” Mat grinned. He tugged me from his sister and I found myself back in Danny’s small kitchen, pressed against the refrigerator as a mob crowded in behind us. Danny wielded a couple liquor bottles like a ninja, before setting the bottles aside. Pouring an equal measure into each of the shot glasses Mat laid out in a line until they were almost full.

  I stumbled, trying to get out of the way when Danny went to open the refrigerator. I was hemmed in by too many bodies and I started growing frantic when I couldn’t get enough air. I broke out in a clammy sweat even as I froze. Everything was suddenly too bright, too loud as voices, laughter and music became a dizzying jumble. Dark flickers danced before my eyes and I began to float, a detached part of me wondering, not for the first time, if this was what a heart attack felt like.

  As I began to fold, the world tilted and my feet left the floor. Large hands encircled my waist, depositing me on the island in the center of the kitchen. “Breathe with me,” a voice rumbled. I took a shuddering breath. “Again,” it demanded as strong hands slid up and down my arms. I burrowed my face into a warm neck, forcing myself to take measured breaths, willing my heart to slow. My next breath came more easily than the last, and the one after that, easier still.

  My senses returned before reason, tasting a hint of salt on smooth skin that rolled and flexed with every brush of his palms. My fingers ached from clutching fistfuls of soft cotton. When awareness slowly crept back, I wanted to disappear—God, I should have stayed on my medication—but it had been so long since my last episode I thought I’d finally outgrown them.

  Danny had been busy while I waited for the sudden, idiopathic heart attack that failed to appear. After topping all the shots with whipped cream, she continued filling mouths directly from the canister until it emitted nothing but air. Only then, did she toss it into the sink, and begin distributing the drinks.

  When she slid a couple shots over to us, Mat leaned back and mortification set as I realized I was still trying to climb inside him. I kept my eyes glued on the dark brown, cream topped confection as I withdrew with as much dignity as one could have after mauling a complete stranger—and Danny’s big brother—I couldn’t bring myself to look at the man standing inches away guarding my calm. I’d already made a big enough fool of myself. I was hoping that if I pretended to be normal, good manners would force him to do the same until I could make my escape.

  “To those that swallow and the ones chasing after them,” Danny said raising her shot.

  “Absolutely.” Mat agreed tapping glasses.

  Throwing back his head, he downed the shot, whipped cream and all, his throat undulating in one smooth swallow. A leftover trail of thick white foam appeared on his upper lip begging to be tasted, and it wasn’t until his tongue finished swiping it away that I glanced up only to be ensnared by his darkening grey eyes. He lifted a winged eyebrow and my face grew hot. Oh, God, please just take me now.

  “Drink up sweetness,” he said in his Vin Diesel rumble. I knew he was toying with me, trying to get me flustered—trying? Who was I kidding? I was beyond
flustered—with a great deal of effort, I managed to look him in the eye as I tipped back my shot. It was surprisingly sweet like a dessert, coffee and almonds. I tilted my head further back when the whipped cream clung stubbornly to the bottom of the glass. Then it released in one big glop, some of it going up my nose. And just when I thought I might pull it off, he murmured, “So, is this your first blowjob?”

  I paused—was he flirting with me—How I swallowed the rest without choking, I’ll never know as I realized he was studying me with the same intensity I’d given him. I briefly considered swiping my tongue across my lips the way he’d done. Chickening out, I glanced down, wiping my mouth with the tip of my index finger before my eyes shot back up as his fingers braceleted my wrist. Then he pinned me with his gaze, and sucked my finger into his mouth, lazily swirling his tongue around it far longer than necessary as humor danced in his eyes—oh, my God, he was flirting with me.

  “I can’t believe you just did that.” I glanced around only to find Danny watching us, apparently fascinated by our exchange although a couple of her friends gave me hard looks. He enveloped me in a hug, laughter rumbling out of him. Not the polite chortles that I was accustomed to, but full-bodied laughter that started in the belly; so contagious you wanted to laugh along even if you weren’t in on the joke. I subtly sniffed his cotton tee shirt. God, he smelled good. Traces of fabric softener and deodorant tickled my nose as he cuddled me, his hand cupping the back of my head.

  When his laughter wound down to a caressing chuckle, he murmured, “So Angie, who are you?” His question was like a slap.

  “Nobody special.” Unlike you.

  He bent down to look at me, but must’ve found it uncomfortable because he straightened, trapping my face between his palms. Sliding his thumbs under my chin, he tilted it up. I searched his face, his grip not allowing me look anywhere else. There was a harsh cast to his features; perfection didn’t belong there. On any other face his lips would’ve been too wide, too full, but on him they were necessary to balance the stubborn squareness of his jaw, the high bridge of his nose and his large flaring nostrils. Black, finely arched eyebrows added intensity to his deeply set eyes that looked cruel until you saw the humor sparkling in their depths. Even his ears were big, but anything smaller would’ve looked misshapen on that large, shiny head. He was a beautiful pagan god with the voice of a serial killer, but that didn’t make him any less god like. It just meant rather than dying in some dank basement or isolated cabin, I’d die bound on an altar as part of some gruesome sacrificial rite. Exsanguinating while he stood over my naked body as my blood dripped from his obsidian blade.