by Snow, Jenika
My heart nearly stopped at those words.
I was still staring at her, and it was then I realized that long moments had passed where I hadn’t said anything. She had one perfectly arched eyebrow cocked as she looked at me, waiting.
I lifted my hand and rubbed the back of my neck. “Yeah, that sounds like a really perfect evening.”
She straightened. “Yeah, it does, and then we can dig into the dessert we made while we watch too.”
I nodded, knowing I probably looked pretty damn happy. I couldn’t have said it better myself.
She moved to the other side of the island and opened up a cabinet below, grabbing out a few bowls and setting them on the tiled counter.
“Do you have the brown sugar, the walnuts?”
I finished pulling out the rest of the ingredients and showed them to her. “Baby, you know I’m not gonna miss anything we need.” There was heavy silence that fell upon us, and I realized I said the endearment. Shit, I didn’t want to make things awkward, but the word just slipped out of my mouth.
She looked down at all the ingredients, and I could see how tightly she gripped the edge of the counter, same as me. “You want to start making the cobbler or the topping?”
I didn’t miss how fast she changed the subject.
She lifted her head and looked at me when I didn’t respond.
“You know I always do the cobbler and you do the topping.”
Her cheeks were pink, and I wondered if her blush had to do with what I’d said or what she was thinking.
“Thought maybe you’d want to shake things up a bit.”
I scoffed. “No way. It’s tradition. You make the topping. No way I can make it as good as you.”
God, I loved her.
For the next half hour, we worked on that peach cobbler like it was an art form. Focus and concentration were always a thing when we did this, but could she feel me glancing at her intermittently? I tried to stop myself, tell myself not to be blatantly obvious, but she was just so damn beautiful.
She lifted her arm and ran the back of her hand over her cheek, successfully smearing some flour along her skin. I laughed softly, and she looked up at me.
“Did I just get crap all over my face?”
I nodded, a grin no doubt on my face. “You have a little something-something right here.” I pointed to her cheek, and she laughed softly before wiping it away, but all that managed to do was smear even more along her skin. My soft chuckle became a full-on laugh as I walked around the kitchen island and stopped in front of her. I lifted my hand and ran my thumb along her cheek, smearing off the flour, reveling in the fact that she was so soft.
For long moments, I just stood there, my hand no longer touching her but our gazes locked, this heavy, suspended moment passing between us. I could tell she was affected by my touch, the way her pupils were dilated, the fact that she started breathing a little harder. But was she affected because she liked it, liked my touch, or because I was crossing lines?
I wanted so badly to tell her all the things I’d kept bottled up for years, but fear had me staying silent, had me taking a step back. I didn’t want to ruin tonight, didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable, and a part of me thought that maybe I was.
So, I went back to baking, feeling her watch me, wishing I wasn’t being such a fucking coward right now. But I knew without a doubt that one day—and one day soon—all the secrets would be revealed, and my life would forever be changed.
I just didn’t know if that was for the better or for the worse, because if she rejected me, I didn’t know how I’d ever be happy again.
* * *
We sat down to watch the movie an hour ago, the pizza pan sitting on the coffee table, more than half of it gone, the cobbler dish beside that, two forks stuck in the quarter-eaten dessert. I sat on the couch with my legs propped up, crossed at the ankles, one arm resting on the side of the couch, the other over the back of it. Daphne sat beside me, her legs resting on the cushions, her head on my shoulder.
It felt good to have her like this, both of us so relaxed, memories of how we used to experience this frequently playing through my mind. I wished I hadn’t taken it for granted back then, wished I would’ve said something, made a move. And all these years would’ve passed with the unknown, with my feelings for her building and growing, eating away at me.
I looked over and down at her, but I couldn’t see her face, just the fall of her sandy-blonde hair, loving the way it smelled so fucking good. It was like flowers, but stronger, sweeter. I found myself leaning down slightly and closing my eyes, my nose just a centimeter away from the crown of her head. I inhaled deeply. God, she smelled so good. Although I told myself I would wait, that I wouldn’t say anything until I knew for sure she would be ready to hear it, I couldn’t hold it in. I didn’t want to.
I straightened slightly and she shifted against me, her hand moving to rest on my abdomen.
“Daphne,” I said softly, my voice is thick from emotion. The volume of the movie was so low I almost couldn’t hear it, and flashes of color from the screen filled the darkened room. “There’s so much I want to say, so much I wanted to say.” She still had her head resting on my shoulder but didn’t move. Maybe she knew where this was going? “I wanted to say this so many times, so many different ways.” I lifted my other hand and placed it on her shoulder, curling my fingers around her warm, soft, and supple skin. “I love you. I’m in love with you.” A heartbeat passed before I continued. “You’re all I think about, all I want.” My throat became so tight I almost didn’t know if I could say the next words. “I’ve wanted you for so long that I couldn’t ever even imagine being with another woman. I’ve never been with a woman, Daphne.”
She still had yet to see anything, and my panic was rising. But I couldn’t stop now.
“And all I ever want, all I’ve ever wanted, was for you to feel the same way.” There, I’d said it, revealed my deepest secret to my best friend and the love of my life. And when long seconds passed and she still didn’t say anything, I finally did look at her. Her head was downcast, so I couldn’t see her face through the fall of her hair, couldn’t see the play of emotions across it.
I lifted her hand and pushed the locks away, and it was the sight of her that had my heart stopping. The long fall of her lashes rested against her high cheekbones. The relaxed expression on her face told me she was contently sleeping against me. She hadn’t heard any of it, was still oblivious to how I felt.
And a part of me was relieved, because I was so afraid of rejection from her, but another part—a stronger part—hated that she still didn’t know how I felt. Maybe this was fate, destiny telling me it wasn’t the right time, that it was too soon, that I needed to wait.
Or maybe I just needed to try next time, look her in the eyes as I cupped her face, told her how I loved her more than anything else in this world, and that I wouldn’t walk away.
I couldn’t.
Never.
She might say she didn’t love me, but I knew without a fucking doubt I would try to make her change her mind on that. I’d try until I took my last breath.
Chapter Six
Daphne
“Thanks again for doing this.”
I glanced up as Karen was walking past me. I gave her a smile and lifted my hand. “It’s not a problem. It’s not like I can’t use the extra hours anyway.” I stayed late at the office to help her finish up some paperwork. We’d had about another hour left before it was done, but I told her I’d stay so she could go meet her boyfriend for dinner.
It wasn’t like I had any exciting plans anyway.
I got up and followed her out, locking the door as soon as it was closed behind her. I stood there a moment, the sight of the rain droplets on the glass door almost hypnotizing as they slowly slid down.
I kept thinking about Alfie, which I probably shouldn’t do since it was unproductive, wouldn’t lead to anything, and made me more depressed than anything else. But I
thought about those stolen moments I swore we had while baking together the other day.
And besides, it was hard to stop thinking about him, about what I wanted with him. Especially as I thought about him showing up at my place unexpectedly, the way I saw him looking at me, those accidental touches we shared as we moved around each other in my tiny kitchen.
All of my emotions had risen up fiercely that night and refused to back down.
I could hear the loud bass of music from the bar across the street, and it pulled me out of my thoughts. The travel agency I worked at was in the center of town. There was a little flower shop beside us, and to the left was an interior design business. The grocery store was down the street, a hardware store across the street to the right a bit, but for some reason, they’d thought putting a bar right in the center of the square was a good idea.
And I supposed it was, given the fact that it was busy most nights until two in the morning.
I walked back to my desk and picked up my phone, looking at the time.
It was already ten at night, hours after I should’ve already clocked out for work. But the travel agency in town was extremely popular, especially given this time of year when tourists wanted to stay in the middle of nowhere at the newly built luxury cabins.
I wasn’t complaining though. Keeping busy meant job security. And in our small town, it wasn’t as if we had a whole lot of positions opening up.
I sat down and got back to work. The time went by pretty quickly, and when I finished inputting the last of the invoices, I closed down my computer and straightened my desk. I was tired, ready for bed or maybe a hot bubble bath and a glass of white wine.
Or maybe spending some time with Alfie.
I felt myself blush at that thought. Because that led to some very intimate images coursing through my mind.
I shook my head to clear my thoughts and grabbed my coat. After slipping it on, I stared at the muggy weather outside. It had been raining nonstop since lunchtime. And there was still a light drizzle and a hazy fog covering the town.
I grabbed my keys, my purse, and headed toward the front door.
After unlocking it, I reached out and turned off the switch on the wall. Only a second passed where I was plunged into darkness then a few security lights kicked on, the glow yellow and illuminated the small office.
I stepped outside and shut the door, locking it behind me. I stared at the bar for a second, only seeing one person outside, the sound of bass and music even louder now that the glass and metal of my office wasn’t dimming it.
Even from the distance, I smelled cigarettes, could see a cloud of smoke coming from the man who leaned against the side of the building. The streetlights were intermittently placed up and down the Main Street, but where he stood there were shadows concealing him.
No doubt he was another drunk taking a smoke break.
I tightened my jacket around me a little more, the red vinyl slick, glossy, and already looking wet. The town at this hour was pretty much dead, aside from the bar. But all the little shops in the square closed around six—hours ago. If not for the rambunctious bar, this would be a ghost town right now.
I started making my way down the sidewalk, the heels I wore probably not the best idea given the weather. The clicking sounds beneath me—and every once in a while, the sound of a car passing by, the tires running over the puddles of water—were the only thing I could hear at the moment.
I walked closer to the buildings to stay away for the splash of dirty water from those random passing cars. I lifted my hood and covered my head, my purse strung over my shoulder, the air a little chilly even for this time of year. My car was in the parking lot down the street, the only bad thing about working in the square.
There was no parking on Main Street, so we were forced to park a block away at a designated parking lot. Normally, it wasn’t an issue, because people were leaving their businesses at the same time, the sun hadn’t yet set, and the town was extremely safe. But I wouldn’t lie and say this wasn’t creepy, walking down the side of the street, no one around, this ominous feeling hanging in the air.
I was a paranoid person in general, by reading too many horror stories in newspapers, by watching television and seeing too many depressing realistic things going on in the world. It was hard not to let all that sink in.
I reached into my purse and grabbed my keys, was about to round the corner to go to the parking lot, when I heard heavy footsteps nearing. I looked over my shoulder and saw a man a few yards back on the other side of the street. It wasn’t as if he were being intimidating, wasn’t even as if he was doing anything that would’ve been alarming or threatening. But I just had a weird feeling. Was it the guy from the bar? Maybe he was just coming to his car? But I did pick up my pace, took a right into the parking lot, and made a beeline right to my car.
I was about to unlock my door when I heard gravel crunching behind me.
And just like that, my heart stopped.
Chapter Seven
Daphne
“Hey there, Little Red Riding Hood.”
I unlocked my door and opened it, not bothering to give him the satisfaction of responding or acknowledging him.
His voice was slurred, so he was no doubt drunk. “Hey, where are you going?”
I pulled my hood off my head, had my phone out, pulled up Alfie’s number, and was about to hit Call, just so I was on the line with someone, just so the asshole behind me might get scared away knowing and thinking I was calling for help.
I was about to get in my car and promptly lock the door, when I felt him grip my arm. On instinct, I hit the Call button, and despite the sound of blood rushing in my ears, I heard ringing from my phone then Alfie’s deep voice come through.
“Hello?” Alfie said again, but he sounded distant, more muffled as my heart raced harder, as panic welled inside me. “Daphne?”
The guy hadn’t done anything more than grab my arm, but that was enough to have fear take hold.
“Damn, you’re all woman, aren’t you?” He looked me up and down, lifted his other arm and pulled my jacket open slightly. “Lots to hold onto during a good, hard fucking.”
Anger rose up in me, and I ripped my arm out of his grasp and brought my hand across his cheek. The sound of flesh hitting flesh was loud, clearing my head and making the fear dissipate.
I wouldn’t let anyone talk to me that way.
He stared at me, shock in his face, a red handprint forming on his cheek. The stench of alcohol came from him, and I gritted my teeth as bile rose up in my throat.
He was young, hell, probably around my age. I was shocked as hell he had such a vulgar mouth on him or that he thought he could talk to anyone the way he just had.
“If you’ll excuse me, I have to get home. You’re drunk, and the way you’re talking to me and looking at me is extremely inappropriate.” I was trying to make it clear that I wouldn’t put up with his shit, even though inside I was so worried about what he would do, if he would back off. But I knew if I gave in things would only get worse.
Or maybe I was wrong.
Men who liked to take advantage of women liked the power they got. Well, I wouldn’t give that to him.
He didn’t move for long seconds, and then I saw the shock start to wear off of his face. In its place was drunken rage. Of course, he couldn’t be smart and just walk away, realize what he was doing was wrong, immoral, as well as illegal. He was harassing me, trying to intimidate me.
I’d had my fair share of assholes in life, trying to bring me down, to make me feel like I was less than I was. I wouldn’t let some intoxicated prick try to do this to me. No. Fuck him.
He made some weird rumbly noise deep within his chest, and I felt my heart plummet at the sound. He took a step closer. His eyes were red-rimmed, bloodshot. And when he exhaled and I got a concentrated scent of his alcohol-laced breath, my stomach clenched in disgust.
My back was pressed to the side of my car, and with my key still in t
he lock, I couldn’t use those to jab at the asshole. I still had the cell phone in my hand but had forgotten I’d called Alfie. Was he still on the line?
I brought the phone to my ear, about to start talking to him, tell him what was going on, maybe scare the shit out of this prick, that I had a witness to his harassment, when he ripped the cell from my grasp. He tossed it aside and it bounced off the hood of my car before landing on the gravel.
I felt my eyes widen at the aggression that came from him. “What the hell?” I muttered. “Leave me the fuck alone.” It was clear he didn’t like hearing me being anything but submissive. He was probably one of those guys who didn’t take no for an answer. He most likely had small dick syndrome to go along with his shitty personality.
And before I knew what was happening, he had his hand tangled up in my hair, pulling at the strands hard enough that my head was jerked back. I cried out from the shock and the discomfort and lifted my hand to grip his wrist, trying to pull him away. But he was strong. Why did drunks always seem to have superhuman strength?
“Let go of me,” I tried to say with a strong tone, one that would let him know I wouldn’t be an easy victim. I went to turn away, but he had a powerful grip on me, and with his leg directly beside me, I ended up tripping over it and landing on the ground. The gravel tore into my bare knees, but it wasn’t nearly as painful as when he hauled me back up by the back of the neck and slammed me against the side of my car. He had his face close to mine again, and I turned my head, trying to get away from him, from the stench of his intoxication.
He lowered his gaze down to my chest, and although I knew he couldn’t see anything because of my jacket, I felt disgust at the obscene glare he gave me. He opened his mouth to say something, but the flash of headlights pulling into the parking lot momentarily blinded me and had him turning his head in that direction. I did the same, about to wave down whoever was here, ask for some help, when I realized it was a pick-up truck.