Doughn’t Let Me Go

by Hunter, Teagan

  Porter heads for a small shelf on one side of the room and I head for the balcony.

  I step out into the night breeze, and the cool wind nearly takes my breath away.

  “Holy…”

  “Shit, right?” Porter holds out a glass to me. “I didn’t know what you’d like, so I chose my favorite for you to try first.”

  I take a whiff and make a face. “What is this?”

  “Tequila.”

  I arch a brow. “Are you trying to make my clothes fall off?”

  He laughs, and I love the way it rumbles out of him. “It’s funny you should say that. I always joke they wrote those lyrics about me.”

  “If my clothes fall off, yours should too.”

  Then I down the shot like the pro I most definitely am not.

  The taste is awful, and I hate the burn.

  “Blech!”

  Porter laughs. “Right?”

  “Okay, you drink now. It’s only fair.”

  He tips the beer up to his lips and takes a big swig. “Blech!” he mocks.

  “Right?” I tease back. “But I didn’t mean beer. Can’t you do one shot with me? For my birthday?”

  His eyes flare for just a moment. “Didn’t you read the Tequila Clause?”

  I think back to the myriad documents he had me sign and briefly remember some sort of NDA.

  I’ll be honest, I didn’t pay much attention to anything Porter sent over. I could have signed a marriage license and never even known.

  I was too anxious to make this legit, too afraid he’d rip it away before I got the chance to taste it. So I just signed.

  Probably a dumb move on my part, but it’s too late now.

  “Please?” I say again, already feeling the booze tickling at my head. “Just once. I won’t tell anyone you broke your own contract.” I zip my lips dramatically.

  He laughs and shakes his head. “Fine. Fine. But just one. That’s it.”

  “Deal.”

  He sticks his hand out and I glance down at it, smirking at his signature move.

  I slide my palm against his and he pulls me toward him. “But, Dory?”

  “Yeah?” I breathe out the word.

  “One drink. That’s it.”

  “Okay.”

  He doesn’t step away like I thought he would. Instead, he steps closer, and I’m not even sure he realizes he’s done it.

  I close my eyes and inhale.

  God, he smells so fucking good.

  “Why do you smell like that?”

  He laughs lightly. “Is it bad?”

  “No. It’s good—too good.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ll start showering less.”

  Laughing, I put distance between us, even though I don’t want to. “I’d really appreciate that.”

  “Maybe I’ll start adding onions to every meal too. Make sure my breath is extra gross, just for you.”

  He heads back inside, I guess to get more to drink.

  “You’re too kind, really,” I call to him.

  I lean against the railing, watching the waves roll across the ocean on the not-too-distant horizon.

  I didn’t pay a lot of attention to Porter’s house the first night I came here, my mind preoccupied with other things. When I came back for my first day with Kyrie, I was shocked to see it was so close to the ocean. The back doesn’t butt up against it, but it is just across the street. You can literally walk down to the beach, something I’ve done several times with Kyrie.

  Being out on the balcony, up this high, it almost feels like you can reach out and touch it.

  “Are you trying to touch the water?”

  I look over my shoulder, grinning. “Maybe.”

  I actually hadn’t realized I’d stretched my hand out at all. Man, this tequila might be stronger than I thought. Perhaps I shouldn’t have a second drink.

  “For you,” Porter says, holding out another shot.

  Okay, fine. I’m totally having another shot.

  He sets a plate full of limes down on the railing.

  I point to them. “What are those for?”

  “To chase it with. Thought it might make it easier on ya.” He lifts his own shot. “Lick the salt, down the shot, and suck the lime.”

  I see his glass is void of salt, but mine is coated.

  “Where’s your salt?”

  “I don’t need any.”

  I frown. “Why not?”

  He puffs his chest out. “Because I’m all man, baby.”

  “Says the guy who had salt and limes readily available in his office.”

  He tucks his lips together like he’s trying not to laugh. “Fair point.” He shakes his glass. “You ready?”

  I make a face at the fire water. “As I’ll ever be.”

  “You don’t have to drink it, you know.”

  “It’s my twenty-first birthday, Porter. It’s a rite of passage to get drunk today.”

  “Something tells me you’ve never followed everyone else’s path. Why start now?”

  Because I need something to take the edge off, and you’re not available. “Because it sounds fun. Now stop trying to talk me out of it and just drink.”

  He eyes me curiously but doesn’t say anything.

  “Ready?” I ask.

  He lifts his glass, and we down our shots together, me sucking on a lime afterward.

  “Oh my god,” I groan. “Seriously, this stuff is awful. How the hell do you drink it so often?”

  Laughing, he takes the glass from my hand. “I don’t drink it for pleasure. Another?”

  I shake my head. “Not yet. Let’s play a game.”

  “A game?”

  “Yeah. Like we did that first night.”

  “That game led to something dangerous, and now we’re adding alcohol. Don’t you think we’re playing with fire?”

  “No.” I purse my lips. “You’re done drinking, but I’m not. I trust you. You’re not going to take advantage of me in that state.”

  His stupid gray eyes do that flaring thing again, and suddenly I’m standing right up next to him.

  “What are you doing?” he says quietly.

  “Looking for your contacts.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Your contacts. There’s no way your eyes are really that color.”

  “You’re one to talk,” he accuses, referring to my different-colored eyes. “I still want to see, you know.”

  “That’s something reserved for special people.”

  “Am I not special to you?”

  I smirk at him. “You’re something.”

  “Something like…?” he presses.

  “Annoying. Assertive. A dick. A bit pompous.”

  “You think I’m arrogant?”

  “Yeah, but in a hot way.”

  He barks out a laugh. “Duly noted. What game do you wanna play?”

  “It’s not really a game because we won’t be playing for a prize.” I slide my eyes toward him. “I remember where that led us last time.”

  “Yeah? Then are you sure you don’t want to play for a prize?”

  There’s a hum between my legs, but I chalk it up to the tequila. “I’m sure.”

  He doesn’t believe me, and neither do I.

  “Then what are we playing?”

  “Truth or Lie with a twist.”

  “Naked Truth or Lie?” He grins. “Dory, you perv. Let’s play.”

  I laugh. “No, no. Not that. Besides, how would that even work?”

  “You have to take off an article of clothing for every point the other person gets.”

  “That sounds an awful lot like the last game we played.”

  “Not true. We played that one for kisses.”

  There’s the smallest amount of bite to his words. If I hadn’t spent the last few weeks with him, I might not have caught it. But I have, so I do.

  He’s upset I wouldn’t let him kiss me.

  “I’m sorry about that, Porter.”

  Now he scoffs. “I
don’t want your apology, Dory, because you have nothing to apologize for.”

  “I do though. I said I’d kiss you and I didn’t. It’s just…” My hands grip the railing tighter. “Kisses mean something to me. I don’t know why, they just do. I think it’s because of my mom and how she treats relationships. She kisses everybody, people she doesn’t have feelings for. To me, kissing means more than sex.”

  “Because it means feelings?”

  “Yes,” I say. “I know, it sounds dumb, huh?”

  He doesn’t answer right away, and I chance a peek at him.

  Porter’s looking at me with an expression on his face that I can’t quite describe. “No, that’s not dumb. Sex is sex. There’s pleasure we derive from it, and it’s just our basic instincts. We fuck to feed that need. We kiss to fill other needs. I totally understand what you’re saying.”

  I gape at him and he reaches over, pushing my chin back up.

  “Quit gaping.”

  “I can’t. I just…I didn’t expect you to be so understanding about it.”

  “Because I’m… Ah, shit—what was it again? A pompous annoying assertive dick?” He inclines his head my way. “Ass would have been better than dick. It flows more.”

  I shove my hand against his face, pushing him away, and he does the most disgusting thing ever.

  “Ew! Porter! What the fuck!”

  I wipe my spit-covered hand across my stomach.

  “Weird.” He grins. “I didn’t hear you complaining last time I licked you.”

  “Oh my god.” I shake my head, my shoulders rising and falling with laughter. “You’re so—”

  “Annoying?”

  “Yes!” I clear my throat. “Now, let’s play our game.”

  “Right, our boring game with no rewards.”

  “That’s the one.”

  He sighs. “What’s the twist?”

  “We have to tell an embarrassing fact. Then we decide if it’s a truth or a lie.”

  “Gonna be honest with you, Dory, this just sounds like you want me to sit around and tell you all the good dirt on me.”

  I giggle. Okay, I am clearly buzzed. I never giggle.

  “Basically.”

  He shakes his head. “Fine. But first, let me refill our drinks. I have a feeling we’re going to need some liquid courage for this.”

  * * *

  “Are you serious?”

  “Dead.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “You know, if we were playing this with prizes, you’d be naked right now. You don’t believe any of my stories.”

  I blush at the word naked.

  Or maybe it’s just because I’ve been constantly blushing since my third shot.

  Turns out, tequila makes my cheeks feel like they’re on fire.

  “I promise you, it happened. That movie theater popcorn did not sit right in my stomach, and the next thing I knew, I was barfing all over the place.”

  “But there is no way a kid skated right through the middle of it.”

  “Yep. Then he was so grossed out he puked.”

  “Ew.” I shudder. “And how old were you when this happened?”

  “Twenty-six.”

  My eyes widen. “No way!”

  “Yep. Kyrie was there to witness the entire thing. Just ask her about the time Dad puked all over the skating rink at the most popular girl in kindergarten’s birthday party.” He shakes his head. “I don’t think she’s ever going to let me live it down. All last school year when somebody in her class started talking about sending birthday invitations, she’d warn them about mixing popcorn and roller skating.”

  I feel the smile spread. “I love her.”

  “Kyrie?”

  “No, Lady Gaga.” I roll my eyes. “Yes, Kyrie. She has so much…”

  “Attitude?”

  I laugh. “I was going to say personality.”

  “Ah, yes. That too.” He smiles sadly. “I’ll admit, she gets her wildness from her mom, not me.”

  “What was she like?”

  I don’t think I’m supposed to ask about his ex, but the liquor makes me brave.

  To my surprise, he answers my question.

  “She was…untamed.” He settles on the word like he’s trying to find just the right one to describe her. He blows out a breath. “I’m gonna tell you something.”

  Something in his voice has me sitting up. Whatever it is, it’s serious.

  “Okay…”

  “I don’t tell many people this. In fact, I think Foster might be the only person who knows other than my mother and father.”

  I lick my lips, enjoying the taste of the alcohol. “Why are you telling me, then?”

  A V appears between his brows, his lips twisted. “Because it feels right.”

  I swallow, and it’s audible. “Okay.”

  He doesn’t speak for a long time, just staring out over the water.

  Then finally…

  “Kyrie isn’t mine.”

  My breath leaves my lungs in one big whoosh.

  Whatever he was going to tell me, I never in a million years thought it would be that.

  I am so not drunk enough for this.

  “I think I’ll have another drink now,” he says, like he can read my mind.

  He pushes back from his position against the railing and heads inside.

  I hear him moving around, pouring us more shots.

  Shots I desperately need because What the fuck?!

  She’s not his? If I’m being honest, I never thought they looked alike, but I just assumed that meant she favored her mother.

  But to learn she’s not his… Wow.

  “Here.” Another glass filled with booze slides into my vision. “You look like you could use this too.”

  He sets more shots down on the railing and I eye them.

  “I thought you were just going to have one,” I hedge.

  “Yeah, well, I just spilled one of my deepest darkest secrets to you, so I think I’m allowed to break my own rule. Besides, the more I drink, the more I can bring the Tequila Clause into play. I’ll just say you got me drunk and pried the information out of me if this ever gets out.”

  He laughs, but I hear the nerves in his voice.

  “Your secret is safe with me, Porter. I promise.” I hold the shot up. “Besides, I plan to be too drunk to remember this later anyhow.”

  We clink our glasses together and then down the burning booze.

  “My ex was pregnant when I met her. We didn’t find out until a month after we were already dating.”

  His voice is rough, and I wonder if it’s from the alcohol or talking about his ex.

  “She talked to the father, and he wanted nothing to do with the baby. Wrote her a check for an abortion and that was it. She couldn’t do it, and I didn’t want her to. So, we told everyone the baby was mine, and it’s been our secret since.”

  Suddenly, I’m wrapped in Porter’s arms.

  I don’t know who grabbed for who first, but I know I’m not letting go.

  He needs this too much, and maybe I do too.

  “I couldn’t let the baby grow up without a father.” His lips move against my hair. “My father left me, so I know how that feels. If I could help it, I wasn’t going to let someone else go through that too.”

  “Does she know?”

  He shakes his head. “No. It’s the only thing I’ve ever lied to her about. I make sure I’m always honest with her about everything else, no matter how painful or embarrassing it is, to try to make up for it.”

  “Are you going to tell her?”

  “Eventually, but not right now. Not when the wound of her mom leaving is so fresh.”

  I squeeze him tighter and lean my head back.

  He doesn’t just need to hear what I have to say; he has to see it too.

  His gray eyes find my blue ones, and we hold the other’s gaze steady and firm.

  There’s more than a night of tangled limbs between us. There’s a
bond of painful pasts. There’s the need to push for more, to be better than where we came from. There’s a soul-deep connection only two broken people know.

  “You’re a good man, Porter, and an even better dad.”

  Crinkles appear at the corners of his eyes. “Dory…”

  I close my eyes, savoring the way he says my name. “You’ve been doing that a lot tonight.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Saying my name. Why?”

  His lips ghost against my ear. He’s so close. That scent I’m quickly getting too used to is surrounding me, mixing with the alcohol, making everything hazy.

  “Because tonight is just ours.”

  I try to hide my shiver, but it’s pointless.

  “Porter?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I think I changed my mind about what I want for my birthday.”

  His eyes search mine, asking Are you sure you want to go there?

  I do.

  “What’s that?” His voice is ragged. Scratchy. So full of uncertainty and hope.

  “Kiss me.”

  Slice Eleven

  Porter

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  My head feels like a tiny person crawled into my brain and set up a trampoline inside of it.

  Bounce. Bounce. Bounce.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  I drank much more than I intended to last night, and it’s all Dory’s fault.

  “Kiss me.”

  Dory dared utter those words, and I wanted to make her birthday wish come true. I really wanted to. More-than-I’ve-ever-wanted-anything kind of wanted to.

  But we’d been drinking and there was no way I was going to let our first kiss happen when we were intoxicated, no matter how badly I wanted it.

  My morals are stronger than that.

  And if I’m being honest, there was a tiny part of me that was afraid she’d wake up and regret it in the morning if we did kiss. I understand her stance on kisses, maybe more than she thought I would, and I wanted to respect that.

  So instead of kissing her, we talked, and she drank.

  Then I took her to bed.

  Her bed.

  I carried her down the stairs and to her room. Tucked her in and set a glass of water on the nightstand along with some medicine to combat the hangover I’m sure she’s bound to have this morning. I summoned every ounce of strength I had to walk away, and then she asked me to stay.