by Devin Sawyer
Allison walks over and crouches down.
“Lithium is three.”
“Arsenic is thirty-three.”
“Magnesium is twelve.”
We all watch as she spins the combination lock in slow motion. I eye the clock and we are down to thirty minutes remaining. When she reaches twelve, the lock clicks open. A smug smile crosses Torren’s face. I don’t even have to look to know it.
“Well, what do you know?” he whispers into my ear. We are still standing too close to one another and I take it as an opportunity to gain some space and step away. When we open the fridge, there are no chemicals. No antidote. Just a large red button.
“What the fuck are we supposed to do with this?”
“Tsk, tsk,” Torren admonishes. “Leadership needs to watch their language.” I scowl at him again. Why does he have to be so fucking annoying?
“Well, we have to push it,” I suggest.
“NO,” half the team yells.
“You never press the red button, we’re all gonna like explode or something, don’t you watch TV?” comes from Hector again.
“Hector, I think you watch too much TV. The clue said to get to the antidote we have to go in the fridge. This is the ONLY thing in the fridge. It led us straight to it!”
“She’s right. We have to press it,” Torren says. Oh, so Mr. McAsshole himself actually thinks I’m right now. Phenomenal. I go to push the button before anyone else can refuse. As I press it down, we hear a noise across the room and a door has opened. We all stare, wondering what could possibly be in there. None of us moves. Surely, we are supposed to go in there. That’s where the antidote is being stored. I take a step, wanting to lead the team, when a zombie appears in the doorway deranged and dressed as a nurse, headed straight for us. Hector screams like a girl.
“I told you not to press that button.” We all scatter, using different items in the room to keep the zombie at bay. I grab a broomstick and wave it around like an idiot protecting both Allison and myself. Torren beelines for the room the zombie came from.
“In here. It’s clear,” he yells, and everyone makes their way over. Allison high tails it, leaving me to fend off the zombie alone. I continue to wave the broom at it, but this time it snaps when I make contact with a wall. I’m left with a too small piece of the wood handle that would work excellently as a shank, but I’m pretty sure I signed a waiver not to actually hurt the zombie. I freeze. This is where I get captured. I deem myself a sacrifice for the team. Just before the zombie can reach me a hand snakes around my midsection and hoists me up in the air. I can’t see Torren’s face, but I know his smell now. It’s him. He hauls me to the other room and we shut the door behind us. He sets me on my feet and I place a hand on his shoulder as I stabilize myself.
“Ya okay?” He offers me one of his warm smiles where his perfectly white teeth glare back at me. “I thought we lost ya there for a moment.”
“Yeah. I’m fine…thanks.” His body is too close to mine again, and I feel the heat coming off of him. Everyone seems to be catching their breath, but I’m still lost in a daze. At some point, the rest of the team finishes the puzzle without much help from me. Someone locates the key to the filing cabinet and they pour in the formula for the antidote. I’m still lost in a haze at how one minute Torren and I are feuding and the next he’s wrapping his arms around me, saving me from zombie attacks.
After a round of high-fives, the team heads back to the bar to join the rest of the crowd. I order a round of drinks for everyone on John and they hoot and holler. Everyone compares how their team did and shares stories from their experiences with only two teams completing the challenge. At least the boozing part does seem to be doing a good job of introducing the crews to each other. I grab a stool at the edge of our table and sit down.
It’s clear there is still some tension between Torren and me. Our little spat only ignited our old chemistry. It’s still there…simmering below the surface. I couldn’t even be mad at him without this unspoken passion flaring and firing in our faces. I want to hate him. I want to hate him so much. But I know I don’t. I am a part of this mess. I feel his eyes following me the rest of the night and I do my best to ignore him. I let myself wonder what it would be like to cave to him and his stupidly good looks. I deserve to be mad just a little bit longer, but something inside of me asks why eight years wasn’t enough.
Torren takes a seat next to me and I fake interest in my beer. “Sorry for kinda jumpin’ ya in there.” He leans his shoulder into mine and nudges me.
“It’s fine. That’s the point, right? Figure out how to work together? We just have a lot of stuff to work through.” Damnit, think before you speak. He nods his head. These brief moments between us feel wrong, they feel like lies to Brad even though I haven’t lied about anything yet, I’m merely withholding the truth. I was getting awfully good at that lately.
“I think we could make a pretty good team. We used to. We just need to figure it out again.” I nod my head, appreciating that he wants things to run smoothly. “I’m going to go mingle. Meet everyone.” He pats my thigh before getting up and I wish I didn’t feel a rush of nostalgic excitement.
When it gets late, the crowd starts clearing out and I pack it in to head home as well. I grab a taxi, knowing I had too much beer to drive. I could call Brad to come pick me up. I know he’d drop what he was doing to get me, but for the countless time today I don’t choose him. I tip the cab driver and head into my apartment. It’s getting late and I have a long few weeks ahead of me. All I want is a long bath, and to curl up in bed. Those hopes are ruined when I unlock the door and find Brad already in my place. I wasn’t ready to hand him a key to my place. I only realize that now.
“Hey, honey,” he shouts from the couch where he’s comfortably watching TV. “I meant to meet you here, but I guess your work thing took a little longer than expected. I let myself in.” He gets up and walks over to greet me. When he goes in for a kiss, I give him my cheek because I’m feeling annoyed and petty right now, and it doesn’t help that I feel guilty about not being upfront about Torren being back in my life. Brad knows about everything, he would understand, but I don’t even know where to start. I haven’t fully processed it myself and I’m certainly not ready to answer questions about working with my ex-boyfriend from my current boyfriend.
“I’m going to go shower.” I leave him there and head back to my bedroom. I undress and run myself a bath. I toss in one of the numerous bath bombs I keep stocked and let myself soak. I lose myself in thought. I weigh the pros and cons of Brad. He loves my parents, he treats me well, he’s understanding. That should be enough. So why is it that the second Torren walks back into my life it doesn’t feel like it is anymore. Clearly, I’m just not fighting it hard enough.
“Hey, you okay? You’ve been in here a while. The water must’ve run cold by now.” Brad enters the bathroom and I startle at his presence.
“Yeah, I was just getting out. I want to talk to you about something. I’ll meet you out there in a sec.”
Brad exits and I get out and towel off. I throw on a nightie that he gifted me for my birthday and I go out to talk with him. He’s loitering around the kitchen, near the bar. I rest my elbows on it.
“What’s going on with you? You seem so distracted. I haven’t seen you in almost a week and tonight you just feel distant.” I have the audacity to get frustrated at his remarks, as if he’s not the one getting the total shaft right now.
“Work. It’s just a lot this time of year. I know you haven’t really seen the Christmas holidays this closely, but it’s complete chaos every year. I’m going to be really busy.”
“I get it. Work stress.” He reaches out to touch my shoulder and I try to shrug him off without offending him.
“I don’t know, maybe, I just need some space right now. It’s hard to juggle a personal life and work right now, and I just don’t want you to be offended each time I come home cranky.”
“Well, you have to l
earn how to manage it at some point. Why don’t we start now?”
“I just can’t,” I snap at him. My voice rises a few decibel levels. “I’m sorry, but I just can’t right now.”
“Okay. A little space.” He toys with his ring of keys and I see him remove the copy to my apartment. “I’ll just leave this here for now, you let me know when you’re ready for me to have it back. I leave for that conference in Phoenix next week, so I’ll be gone a while.” I soften for him because I don’t mean to be a complete dick, especially when he’s about to be traveling for a few weeks for training, but I can’t help but push him away. He grabs his coat and heads for the door.
“Thanks for getting it. I’ll call you,” I murmur and lean in and kiss him lightly on the cheek.
“I hope you do,” he says. And I see the hurt in his eyes. I nod my head and shut the door behind him. Sleep. I need sleep and lots of it to get my head back on straight.
Chapter 20
Ari
Music blares so loudly through the large ballroom that I can feel my brain pounding along with it. The first night of parties has us all on edge. Especially me. John got back into town earlier this week and has been helping to manage, so thankfully I’ve been able to share some of the workload, but at the same time, I want to impress him. I want him to be confident in knowing that I can run this business from the ground up. But, unfortunately, this is usually when things go wrong. No matter how much you plan, there is always something you didn’t plan for, like Torren. I’m just waiting for the ball to drop. It’s been tense at the office, but I’m finally adjusting to seeing his face again. Okay, that’s a lie. His face is fine. His face is more than fucking fine. It’s gorgeous. It’s his overall presence that I despise. After two weeks of being a bit dodgy and splitting out of meetings like a mad woman to avoid direct conversations, I’m at least trying to be cordial. It doesn’t help that he’s been increasingly charming anytime we are alone, and I feel like he purposefully keeps tracking me down by the coffee machine just to get me alone. I make a mental note to put a Keurig in my office as soon as I get the chance.
I watch the party-goers settling into their holiday celebration. The booze is beginning to kick in and people are starting to line the dance floor. I sense him before I actually see him.
“Let’s dance.” He mimics a party boy dance move by thrusting his arms next to his head and gyrating his hips.
“Let’s not.” I raise my brows in mock horror.
“Come on, we’re trying to get the party going, we need to encourage them to dance more. This party is a fucking bore.”
I shoot my eyes filled with anger at him. “This is my fucking job and life for the past four years and I’m damn good at it, it is NOT fucking boring.”
He rolls his eyes at me. “Fine. I’ll have to dance with you right here then if you won’t follow me to the floor.”
I look away attempting to move a step further from him, but his body follows as he dances around me. He looks like a fucking idiot considering I haven’t budged other than to attempt to rid myself of his presence. None the less, he continues. Nadia approaches and starts yelling over the music.
“Hey, I brought you a drink, John said he’s going to wrap tonight up since you’ve handled things all week. Drink up!” God Bless her and more importantly, God bless John. I debate just heading home for the night, and getting a good night’s rest, but decide to linger for a bit longer, enjoy my drink and make sure things run smoothly. I continue to ignore Torren who is still dancing by himself, only in my vicinity. I will Nadia to ignore him with me, but it’s clear that my willpower is shit because I can see she is attempting to stifle laughter. At least she’s fucking trying.
“Hey, looks like I may have another dance partner,” Torren says to Nadia more so than me.
“Oh, I’ll school you in dance moves. Don’t even try me.”
“Bring it, then,” Torren challenges back. They engage in each other and I roll my eyes before walking off, to the bar, where a girl like me belongs after the week I’ve had.
I lift another shot of Fireball feeling the burn course down my throat and continue dancing. Swaying my hips back and forth Torren continues to watch me from across the room with a drink in his hand, likely whiskey, and I see a small smirk on his face. I wonder what he thinks is so damn funny when I suddenly feel someone come up behind me. I turn to see a young guy maybe a little older than me dancing up behind me. He's cute in a business suit sort of way and I allow him to stay as I engage him and rub my hips back into him. A pang of guilt runs through me as I think about Brad, but I push it down, reminding myself of our break. I search the room for Torren and find his eyes again, pretending not to stare. He doesn't look as smug now as he did a moment ago. I turn around and face my dancing partner and I yell over the music into his ear, "I'm Ari."
"I know who you are. You greeted our group at the door. I'm Will. I couldn't take my eyes off you. You are very beautiful."
My ego swims in his compliment. The liquor has made me brave tonight and I want to feel wanted and desired and forget about the problems that greet me at the office doors. I know that Torren likely had his reasons for choosing to go to jail, but that doesn’t validate the way I feel, that doesn’t make them right. I feel entitled to still be angry with him, to not want to open back up to a life that includes him. We continue to sway and I can feel Will's breaths quickening as we continue to keep up with the beat of the song. All the close touching and heavy breathing feels a bit intimate and I want to rush away from the stranger behind me. I need another shot if I'm going to keep this up. I don't. Not really. I can feel the effect of the first three I had and I'm mostly just fearful that if I lose that buzz, I will return to reality, and I'm just not ready for that yet.
When the song ends, I thank Will for the dance and I head toward the bar. He follows, but before I make it there a hand snakes around my forearm and pulls me to the side of the bar. Torren. My bad mood returns. Maybe Fireball makes me ornery. Maybe Torren just makes me ornery.
"I want a dance," he states. His voice all husky and sexy.
"So, go find someone then," I snap.
"No," he says. "I want to dance with you." He grabs my arms and throws them up over his neck and begins to slowly dance into me. So close that he is flush up against me. “Just one,” he practically whispers. I don't move. I am stoic, and I hope he gets how uncomfortable I am. We can’t just be us again. He tilts his face down to me and leans in toward my face. I pull back, freaked out he is going to try and kiss me.
“I wasn't gonna kiss you," he says. "I was just leaning in. Now dance with me. We only work together for a few weeks. Quit making this worse than it already is and maybe it will go by quicker than you think."
In my drunken haze, I still have some reason. He might be right, but I refuse to admit that to him. If I quit spending so much time angry, I would be doing a better job, and I probably wouldn’t be drunk at our first event.
I don't even notice that at some point I’ve started to sway slowly with him while I contemplated this. He holds his drink in his hand that joins mine out to our sides. I lean my face toward his stirring straw and suck the whiskey from his drink until it holds nothing but ice. Better. The whiskey burn numbs my fear.
"That bad, huh? Maybe we can have a truce," he softly says as he closes the little bit of space between us. "I'll quit making your job difficult if you quit making it obvious to the entire crew that you hate my guts. They don’t know our past…unless you’ve told them.” He pauses like the thought terrifies him.
“No, only Nadia knows. Chelsea actually spilled the beans to her, and Evan of course.”
“Right, then as I said, they don’t know our history, so it appears as though you just hate my company or me. I don't need to lose any jobs over this and I'd like an outstanding report in the end. My business is still in its early stages. Think you can handle that?"
The way he words his question like I'm a child is obnoxious. It makes
me feel like I'm eighteen again, he's the experienced know-it-all, and I’m the conservative prude.
“Your business is fine. It’s functioning smoothly and as far as the company itself goes, it appears that your team is reliable and good at their jobs. You don’t need my sparkling review.” I scrunch up my face at him.
He grabs my face, squeezing my cheeks together with the hand that was just placed on my lower back. "You really shouldn't make that face," he whispers to me in his low voice. "It could get stuck like that, and that would be a shame."
Before I can even prepare myself this time, he closes his mouth over mine, still holding my face in place. It's not gentle, but it’s not rough, much like the first kiss we ever shared. He's firm, pressing into me with just enough pressure to make me appreciate its presence invading my mouth. I realize my predicament and pull my face back from him.
"Sorry, I thought we should seal the deal," he coyly smiles.
"That's usually done with a handshake, not with your mouth," I slur angrily.
"I think my mouth does a better job of it," he says with a smug grin and lingers close to my lips again, staring into my eyes harshly and never breaking contact. I hate that he just crossed a boundary that we won’t ever get back and that I won’t ever be able to forget. I want to be kissed like that all the time. I breathe slowly, feeling prepared this time as he lingers near and I shut my eyes, but then feel him pull away as the song ends in the background and fades into another one that’s more upbeat.
I'm drunk, clearly, because what I'm about to do has zero intellectual function involved. I lean back into him, taking him off guard and suck on his bottom lip. I hear a deep groan from his throat before he pushes back into me to participate. The first kiss was chaste and quick, a mere ploy of his to invade my space, but this time his warm tongue prods at my lips and I open up for him. He feels so different against me. We are nothing but greedy hands and hearts, vying for attention. He pushes me farther into the corner we were swaying in just moments ago and deepens the kiss. His hand still in mine as if we were still dancing, only we aren't moving, the other at my waist gripping me tightly. I want to be worshipped tonight. I wish it were anyone but him, but I just know that it needs to be him. He slowly glides his hand up under the weight of my breast. Slowly his thumb sneaks up and rubs gentle circles through my thin sweater, and I'm transported in time to the last place he did that, the last time I felt this hot and this ready and this needy for anyone else.