Davis

by INGRID HARRISON

  “What if I can’t move in with you?” she asked quietly.

  I set down my fork, leaning towards her. “Just think about it, that’s all I am asking.” I snorted, saying, “I’m not going to walk away from you Steph. Whatever happens, I’m not going anywhere without you.”

  I tried to lighten the mood after breakfast. I wished I hadn’t said anything to her. My words had stopped her laughter and I was to blame.

  “Since you cooked breakfast, I am going to show you what an awesome guy I am, and wash dishes,” I smiled. When she was about to protest, I held up my hand. “I insist. And besides, I see disbelief that I can actual handle washing, so I am going to prove you wrong.”

  When she made to stand up, I set a hand on her shoulder. “No, you stay there and finish your coffee.”

  She laughed. “I was going to go to the bathroom,” she smirked. “The dishes are all yours.” Laughing softly, she walked away.

  As I loaded the dishwasher, she came out of the bathroom, and called to me, “Now I am going to take a shower, but please,” she cackled, “Don’t stop now. You’re almost done.”

  I was grinning as I ran hot water in the sink, adding soap and setting the frying pans inside the soapy water as I began scrubbing them.

  A few minutes later, I was drying the last pan, and sat back down at the table to finish my coffee. As I leaned back, I gazed around me.

  Her apartment was really looking so much better than the last time I had been there, I thought as I looked around. I was impressed on how much painting she had been able to do. Looking closer, I noticed she had even painted the base boards a bright white. That had to be time-consuming, back breaking work, I thought.

  She shouldn’t have to work that hard, I thought with a sigh. If she moved in with me, I could make sure she didn’t work so hard, make sure she was safe and taken care of.

  Why was she so determined to stay in Savannah? I couldn’t understand it. I didn’t remember her being so stubborn, but in a lot of ways, it felt like the Steph I thought I knew back then wasn’t the Steph of today.

  She had always been quiet, almost shy in her dealings with me. I figured it was similar to how a younger sister might feel about an older brother, but our relationship had never been that close.

  We had met briefly a couple of times while our parents dated. It wasn’t until they were married that Steph and her mom Amanda had moved in, and I had already moved out into an apartment with three other guys, so our encounters had always been brief.

  I had little time to spend back at home. I was too busy with college and my music career. In those days, I would take my guitar and go around to bars or bookstores or coffee houses, working for tips only. If none of those were available to me, I would sing in the park or on street corners. I didn’t care, I just needed to sing.

  I figured I just needed to get my music out there, in the hopes that someone of importance would hear. It had been a struggle to make it in this business.

  Once I signed with Unity, my current record label, doors started to open for me. With success, came a shift in my life.

  It seemed like the perfect life really. Singing whenever I could, which was usually in bars or different venues, and going home later with one of my newest fans was a normal weekly occurrence. It was as if having a guitar slung over your shoulder was an aphrodisiac to women, and the women were plentiful.

  It was surprising really that none had ever affected me like Steph did. Was it because I trusted her, where those nameless others I hadn’t? Or was it something else? How come she affected me so strongly, when no one before her ever had?

  I had never thought of what my future love life would look like. I had assumed I would marry someday, and have kids, but it wasn’t something I had thought too much about. Now, it was something I thought about all the time.

  “Are you day dreaming?” Steph said, startling me away from my thoughts.

  I turned to look at her, and she had her hair up in a ponytail, high on her head. She had on a white cotton dress that hit her at mid-thigh, showing off her legs. Her feet were in a pair of flip flops with a spiky pink plastic flower on top that perfectly matched the nail polish on her tiny toes.

  A wave of emotion washed over me as I looked at her. She had become so important to me, in such a short amount of time, it scared me. The need to keep her close to me was strong.

  “Kind of. I mean, I am with you, and it’s like a dream come true,” I said with a smile, but I knew I meant it. It wasn’t me teasing her.

  She came over and gave me a hug, holding me tight. Slowly releasing me, she said, “I’m ready to drop you off at the airport.”

  I had decided not to bring up the subject of her moving again. Instead, on the ride to the airport, we had the radio turned on, our conversation flowing, both of us not discussing the fact that I was leaving again. Instead, we talked about politics and then moved on to a heated discussion on the merits of eliminating party lines. She was a firm believer that it was time for various political parties to dissolve in an effort to bridge the gap that was created because of their existence. I disagreed, believing that by having the parties, it created an avenue to explore and understand our differences.

  I loved watching her, animated and outspoken as she cited her opinions. I seldom saw this side of her, but I liked it.

  Reaching over to her, I set my hand on her thigh, squeezing her and grinning at her.

  “What are you laughing at?” she asked distrustfully.

  “I am not laughing at you, I am enjoying you,” I sooth her with a cheeky grin.

  “Well OK then,” she said slowly the grumpiness leaving her face. “That’s OK then.”

  When the first strains of my song, With You, come on the radio, I turn to her, and start singing the song to her.

  She seemed fascinated, turning in her seat and watching me as I sang the words. I wished I wasn’t driving, wanting to sing to her while looking into her eyes the entire time, but I glanced at her as often as I could while still keeping my eyes on the road.

  I sang the last verses, hoping she heard the words I was singing.

  It’s not right, unless it’s with you.

  I can’t stop, when it’s with you

  With you…With you….With you

  I only feel love, when it’s with you

  Why can’t you let me be…With you.

  When the song was over, she whispered to me, “Your voice is amazing.”

  I looked at her for a long moment, and then turned my head back to the road. I wanted her to hear how much those words were meant for her, but all she could hear was my voice.

  She had told me once that she believed I had written this song about another woman. I didn’t tell her then that those words were about her.

  “I wrote this song in a hotel room late one night,” I said quietly. She had turned back to the road, but I could hear the rustle of her movement, and I know she had turned towards me.

  I kept my face forward on the road, but continued on. “I had just had Leo escort this tiny brunette with long hair from my room.”

  I was stopped at a stoplight and turned my face towards hers. She wasn’t smiling, but I could see her eyes were intent on what I was saying.

  “She was spitting mad, and Leo had a hell of a time getting her to leave,” I said with a grimace.

  “Why?” Steph said softly.

  I glanced at her sideways. “Why was she mad?” I asked with a frown.

  “Yeah,” she answered.

  “She and I…Well, she didn’t get what she was looking for?” I said slowly.

  I glanced over and saw Steph frown. “And what was she looking for?”

  I sighed, not really wanting to talk about that woman. I was trying to get Steph to understand. Understand what, I asked myself with a snort?

  Frustration came over me. I didn’t want to talk about me and another woman. I wanted this to be about Steph.

  “I brought the woman up to my room so we could h
ave sex,” I said gruffly. I wished I hadn’t looked over at her in that moment, hating the look on her face. Her look of sadness caused a lump to form in my throat, and I wanted to remove that sadness from her. Hell, I needed to, hating that I had caused it.

  “I couldn’t do it though,” I admitted. “She was beautiful and friendly and seemed like a really nice lady, but I felt nothing for her.”

  I glanced over at Steph and she was looking straight out the window, her chin tilted upward.

  I continued on, wishing I had just shut up and not started this with Steph. I could see by her body’s posture she was closing up on me. Hell, maybe she had even stopped listening.

  “I grabbed a takeout menu, and started writing. The words just flowed out of me, I couldn’t stop them.” I was talking faster now, hoping she was listening; willing her to listen to me.

  I had paused a long moment, my hand reaching out towards her thigh and as my fingers dug into her soft flesh, I said, “I was thinking of you Steph.”

  CHAPTER 17-STEPH

  A ringing had started in my head. My mouth opened, but no words came out. I closed my mouth again, swallowing hard, and then turned to Davis, my mouth opening again.

  Any sounds I might have uttered never came as I saw the look of tension on his face.

  My eyes had widened at his words and when he finally turned to glance at me, I stuttered hesitantly, “But I….You can’t mean…”

  “After our first kiss, I ignored what was between us. I told myself to forget about you, that we could never be, because I can’t treat you like I did all the other women that came and went,” he said slowly.

  I saw his hands gripping the steering wheel, his fingers appearing white, his knuckles bulging. He was having a hard telling me this, I thought.

  I turned in my seat, facing him fully, waiting for his next words, my heart starting to beat strongly in my chest.

  “I told myself that it was a fluke, and even if it wasn’t a fluke, I couldn’t see where I had anything to offer to you, except sex,” he said hoarsely, turning to gaze at me then. My breath caught at the searing gaze he sent to me.

  “You deserve more than sex, Steph,” he said emotionally.

  I wanted to say something to him, but my throat felt closed, and I could only stare at him.

  “So I kept having sex with women,” he continued, staring straight ahead at the road, not glancing at me anymore.

  As I watched him talking, I got the impression that maybe driving and talking was helping him to open up to me more. I kept silent, but my eyes never stopped watching him, taking in every flash of emotion and each grimace and sigh, because those were telling me a lot too; a lot of the emotion he was feeling and the regret and the fears he had. I even told myself to be quiet, don’t respond to the words he was saying now. Why respond with how awful they were making me feel?

  “At first, I brushed what I felt aside, but my sexual desire ebbed. I found I wasn’t interested unless they were brunettes with long hair and brown eyes.” He laughed harshly, “But even that didn’t work so I would close my eyes imagining you underneath me.”

  He stopped at a stop light and turned towards me. “That was worse because I would open my eyes and you weren’t there.”

  Our eyes met and held before he turned away, driving through the intersection.

  “So I stopped all contact with women, and spent my free time trying to imagine what I could do to make me a better man.” He snorted, “Because I sure as hell wasn’t proud of the man I was!”

  “Don’t,” I said to him hoarsely, reaching out a hand and touching his arm.

  He didn’t stop. “I began imagining that what I felt with you on our first kiss had to be more than it really was, because no way could it have been half as hot as I remembered. Of course, the more I thought of you, the more I had to see you.” He paused for a long moment, and then turned to me.

  “So I called the house, and when no one answered, I didn’t leave a message. Hell, what was I supposed to say?” He laughed harshly.

  “I waited a few days and called the house again, and got Amanda and we talked for a while, but I didn’t ask for you. I wanted to, but I didn’t.”

  I saw that he was pulling into the departure area, and his attention turned away from me while he parked the car against the curb, turning off the engine and turning fully to me.

  “The best thing I have ever done in my life is calling you at 3:00 in the morning, and forcing you to see me,” he said softly, his hand reaching up to brush a wisp of hair that had fallen from my ponytail.

  “I know our parents don’t think I am any good for you. I know my career is tough for anyone to handle and deal with. I know my past with women doesn’t hold me in good stead. I know all of this.” He said each sentence, his voice getting stronger. “But I know you were meant for me, Steph. I know you and I were meant to be together.”

  His look was so earnest and yet so nervous. His hand had clasped mine and I could feel a tremor there.

  I didn’t know what to say. I hadn’t expected this at all.

  I felt his hand behind my head and I looked up at him and he was pulling me closer, his lips claiming mine. I reached around his neck holding him tight as I tried to show him with my lips, with my kiss, how his words moved me.

  Breaking my lips from his but still keeping my fingers threaded through his hair, I said, “I had no idea.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered against his lips, our foreheads touching.

  He chuckled. ”God baby,” he gasped, “Don’t thank me.”

  “I realized when I discovered you moved and had a new job that I could have easily lost you because I took so long to figure myself out,” he said urgently. “I should be thanking you for giving me a chance.”

  With a sigh, he pulled away from me. “I’ve got to go.” He reached in the back seat and grabbed his duffel bag, unzipping it and pulling on a baseball cap.

  Leaning into me, he pressed his lips hard against mine. Pulling back he looked me intently in the eyes and said, “I have a benefit concert in Atlanta on Saturday night, so I will drive up here on Sunday and I promise I will make more time to spend with you, OK?”

  I nodded, feeling an ache in my chest as he turned away, and stepped out of the car. I watched him until he was inside the airport terminal and I couldn’t see him anymore, and then climbed over the seat to the driver’s seat.

  As I started the car, and pulled away, I wanted to cry. It was getting harder and harder to leave him each time, I thought with a sob.

  I wanted nothing more than to chase after him, go wherever he went, just so I could spend more time with him.

  I thought back to everything he told me on the car ride to the airport, and I started slowly smiling. He had written his song about me. Me!

  I had always believed there was another woman, because….Well, because there was always other women. But he said there hadn’t been anyone. Not since he wrote that song about me.

  My mind was whirling. Was he telling the truth? Could I trust him?

  As I drove back to my apartment, those two questions were pounding in my head. Could I trust Davis to tell me the truth?

  I scoffed at that question. It always came down to whether I could trust him; whether I could believe what he was telling me.

  How could I love him as much as I did and not trust him? I was more in love with him today then I was six months ago when I realized how I felt towards him.

  How could my love for him actually grow stronger unless I trusted him? He had shown me love too, countless times. In the way he touched me, in his efforts to open up to me more and in so many other little ways.

  Neither of us may have said to the other that we loved each other, but that didn’t make it any less true. I trusted him with my heart when I fell in love with him; every time I opened my arms to him and every time I lay with him.

  So why was I digging in my heels, staying in Savannah alone, when I could be with him? Why?

 
; I caught my breath. There was nothing stopping me from leaving but myself.

  I am certain they would have no problem filling my position at the bar. We were a month away from college opening up, so there certainly were people searching for jobs.

  But I came to Savannah to finish college, I fretted. College hadn’t even begun yet. Well, I had planning on trying an online course or two. Why couldn’t I take all my classes online? Then, I wouldn’t be stuck in Nashville when Davis had to travel. I could take my laptop, and study and perform my work anywhere then.

  I pushed back the feeling of excitement, reminding myself I still had the lease on my apartment, committing me to stay there another 9 months.

  Chewing on my finger nail, I wasn’t sure what I could do about that. Maybe I could find someone to sublease it from me? Did my manager allow that? I wouldn’t have the money to pay off 9 month’s rent; not without a job.

  Frustrated, I turned towards my apartment, searching for a parking spot. I ended up having to park behind Pop’s Tavern.

  Seeing Steve’s car there, I decided to go inside. Why not, I thought, I have the rest of the day to kill, and the next day, and part of the next day.

  OK, so I was seriously thinking of bailing on Savannah. There really wasn’t anything for me here, not when the man I loved wasn’t with me.

  With determination, I walk to the front door, pushing open the door.

  The darkness inside the bar took me a moment for my eyes to adjust after the sunlight from outside. Pausing in the doorway, I spotted Steve behind the bar, with a few customers taking up several bar stools.

  Looking around, there was only a couple other tables with people. I made my way to a center barstool, distancing myself from the other patrons. Setting my purse on the bar, I waited until Steve approached me.

  “Steph, surprised to see you here,” he said with a smile. “You here because you’re thirsty?”

  I could tell he was mocking me, and I smiled in return. “Sure, I will take a Bud Light.”