Obsessive Temptation: A BWWM Romance Limited Edition Collection

by Peyton Banks

  On the other hand, the thought of going somewhere else didn’t appeal either. I was comfortable where I was—I had an entire booth to myself, and though the crowd was getting drunker, nobody had bothered me, not even to ask if I needed the whole table, or if I had friends coming.

  I couldn’t be sure I’d get so lucky at a second venue at that time of night, so I decided to settle in for a while longer, order nachos for dinner, and kill two birds with one stone by catching up on some movie viewing. I needed to refresh myself on a couple ahead of grading papers over the weekend, so it worked perfectly.

  Okay, so watching Lord of the Flies alone in an increasingly packed bar wasn’t most people’s idea of a great Friday night out, but since I was no longer with Doug, I had nobody to please but myself, and I was very happy with the status quo, if I took the whole being unceremoniously dumped part out of the equation.

  “Must be a fascinating show.”

  I jumped a foot in the air, almost dropping my phone in the process.

  “Excuse me?”

  The movie had ended a few minutes after the band had left the stage, so I’d taken my headphone off, and was scrolling through social media. However, I’d clearly been absorbed enough in the goings on in Facebooklandia not to have noticed anyone approach me until he was speaking pretty much right into my ear. Though the band had finished, the house sound system was cranking, and the dance floor was rocking, so I wouldn’t have heard him otherwise.

  I turned around to find myself peering into a familiar pair of bright green eyes. Oh.

  “Well, you were watching TV throughout the entire gig, so I guess that either we were horrible, or whatever you were watching was just so gripping you couldn’t tear yourself way. Now, not to blow smoke up my own ass, but I know we didn’t suck, out there tonight, so…?”

  It had occurred to me before I’d been scared to death that it was probably past time I went home—it was getting weirder for me to be alone in a heaving bar, engaging with nobody and nothing apart from my device.

  Not that I cared what a roomful of strangers thought of me. That was actually part of the point of the Fuck It List—to give less of a fuck about other people and way more of a fuck about my own happiness. Still, now that he mentioned it, I was starting to feel a little odd, and like I needed to explain my random behavior.

  “I don’t know if you sucked or not. I was doing some research for my job and got carried away with what I was doing. It was nothing to do with the quality of the music, I promise. And to be fair, I didn’t realize there was going to be live music here tonight or else I probably would have left before it started, but since I didn’t, I just rolled with it.”

  He was still standing side-on to my table, and although I was on a raised platform, I had to look up a little to maintain eye contact. I became hyperaware that due to the noise, he was standing a shade closer to me that I would want or expect a stranger to.

  “Why would you have left? You don’t like music?”

  “No, I do, but just not…” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them, so I faltered, letting the sentence die off without finishing it. I wasn’t trying to be rude.

  “Just not our music.”

  “No, that’s not what I was going to say. I’m sure you’re very good. It’s just that the rock thing in general isn’t my bag.”

  “How can you be so sure we’re good when you clearly didn’t listen to a word?”

  Wow. The conversation wasn’t going well.

  “Well, judging by the way the crowd was responding, it was clear you can rock a room. Everyone seemed to be having a great time.”

  “Except you, of course.”

  “Not at all. Like I said before, it really wasn’t like that, but I’m sorry for being rude. If I’d known the band would have been aware of my presence, I would definitely have gone home. I should have. Speaking of which, it’s about time I—”

  “No, don’t go. I’m not trying to be a dick. You were under no obligation to listen, so don’t feel you have to leave. I’m really not trying to make you feel bad, honestly. Let me buy you a drink to show there’s no hard feelings.”

  “No. Thank you. It’s okay, I really should be heading off, and not because of anything you’ve said or done. It’s just getting late, that’s all.”

  “Please? Stay for one drink with me. I’m intrigued.”

  As he spoke, a waitress walked past my table almost on cue, and he reached out, holding her wrist gently to get her attention in the dark, loud room. She stopped in her tracks, and as she turned to see who had touched her, her entire body seemed to come alive with recognition. She looked slowly down at his hand still lightly resting on her wrist, then raked her gaze over his body, finally meeting his eyes. The smallest of smiles graced her lips, as a frisson of sexual energy visibly rippled through her body. So hot.

  He smiled at her politely before turning back to me. “What would you like?” He leaned in closer this time, and as his breath gently caressed my ear, I could totally understand where the waitress was coming from. My whole body was suddenly hyper-sensitized, a rash of goose bumps sweeping across my skin like wildfire.

  Part of me wanted to refuse the offer—I hadn’t actually said I’d stay, after all—but another part of me clearly had no such restraint. “Rum and coke please.” The words were out before I had time to stop them.

  He nodded, turning his attention back to the server. “Make that two, please.”

  The look the waitress flashed him suggested that she’d like to give him a lot more than just drinks, yet he seemed either oblivious or impervious to what else she had to offer. Noting his indifference, she frowned—maybe she was unused to guys resisting her advances—then popped her gum a few times before turning on her heel and sashaying away from the table, ponytail swishing as she went.

  He watched her for a few moments before turning to me. “So, mind if I join you?”

  5

  Luke

  For a moment she looked like she’d rather eat a graham cracker smothered in poop and sprinkled with pubes, but then she smiled, and I thought I’d died on my feet. I knew for sure that my heart stopped while I took in her beauty. That smile. It could start wars and end them. It could definitely bring a man to his knees. I had sudden visions of myself on my knees, doing unspeakable things to her, for her, with her. I shifted uncomfortably, desperately needing to rearrange my junk in my pants, but not wanting to draw her attention to my colossal hard-on.

  “Umm…sure, okay, but I really do need to get home, soon.”

  “Okay, no problem, I can work with that.” I could. I hadn’t been lying when I’d told her that I was intrigued. Aside from wondering what she’d taste like on my lips and feel like on my dick, I was dying of curiosity about a woman who went to somewhere like The Basement alone, then proceeded to ignore everything and everyone around her in favor of whatever the hell had been going on on her screen. It was especially perplexing considering that she was easily the best-looking woman in the room by far. Why would she be spending her Friday night that way?

  I motioned to the seat next to her, indicating that I’d sit there instead of opposite, which would have been the more socially acceptable thing to do, but given how loud the music was, would have made conversation almost impossible. She nodded, and slid across the seat, allowing me in.

  While sitting side-by-side had fixed one issue, it had created another. I wanted to be able to see her face as we spoke. I turned, angling my body so that I was sideways on the bench seat, facing her, and was relieved when she did the same. She met my eyes, and I noted again that hers were an unusual shade of green—way lighter and less vivid than mine—verging on hazel. I was momentarily frozen, hoping she didn’t notice how labored my breath was, or how my heart pounded. Neither of us spoke for a moment that felt like an eternity. At least not in words, anyway.

  The mood was broken by the waitress returning with the drinks, and I used the time to collect my thoughts and take a mu
ch-needed breath. She looked at her drink suspiciously, as though she’d forgotten ordering it, so I lifted my glass and raised it toward her.

  “Cheers.”

  “Cheers.” She returned the gesture with a tight smile before taking a small sip.

  “So what do I call you?”

  She looked surprised at the question.

  “Huh?”

  “I’m Luke. What’s your name?” I extended my hand toward her, and she contemplated it, leaving me hanging long enough for me to feel faintly ridiculous, before extending hers.

  “Chantelle. Nice to meet you, Luke. So you’re a musician. You play guitar?”

  “Yeah, and sing, although my twin brother is the lead guitar and main vocals for the band. I do mostly rhythm guitar and backing vocals.”

  “Oh, right.”

  She sounded decidedly uninterested, so I changed tack, trying to rescue the conversation. “So, Chantelle, what’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this, especially alone on a Friday night?” Luckily, she smiled at the use of a dumb cliché. Good. I’d hoped it would break the ice a little, and it had. Brief though it was, her smile had been worth making myself sound like a cheesy fool for. It was the kind that could warm the coldest heart and melt the polar ice caps.

  “I stopped in on the way home from work. It wasn’t planned, just a spontaneous thing. A quick drink turned into a long drink or two while I watched the movie. That totally hadn’t been part of the plan, but weird as it sounds, I needed to watch it for work, so I was multi-tasking.”

  “That so? What kind of work requires you to watch movies in dive bars in your spare time?”

  She seemed to hesitate before answering. “I’m a…teacher.”

  What was that about?

  “So I took a quick peek, thinking I could squeeze in like half an hour’s viewing, and before I knew it, I’d fallen down the rabbit hole, and couldn’t stop.”

  “Which is a neat segue to my next question. You seemed so engrossed in it, I almost wanted to stop playing and come join you, just to see what it was.”

  “I doubt you would have enjoyed it. It was Lord of the Flies.”

  “Really? The original, or the ’90’s remake?”

  She cocked her eyebrow before answering. “What do you think?”

  “I think the kind of woman who watches any movie, let alone that movie in particular on her phone in a crowded bar while a band rocks the stage, has to be a purist. Only the original will do, am I right?”

  “One hundred percent. You got it in one.” She grinned, and it was game-changing. Life-changing, even. It immediately made me want to earn more where that one had come from.

  She squinted at me, as though taking me in for the first time since we’d started speaking.

  “But wait. How do you know about those movies? You’d have been a baby even when the remake was made and the original is even older than me, and pretty obscure.”

  I shrugged. “Movies are kind of a thing for me, I guess.”

  “Really?” Her eyes lit up. “So which is your preference?”

  I schooled my features into a neutral expression. “Guess.”

  “I’m hoping you’re going to say the original, because cute as Balthazar Getty is in the remake, it’s not a thing, compared to the 1960’s version.”

  “Well, it would be impossible for me to say I prefer the reboot now, but in all honesty, I can’t go past the first one either.”

  “Correct answer. So now give me your critical appraisal of it.”

  “Really? In the middle of a loud and crowded bar, that’s what you want to talk about?”

  “Yeah, why not?”

  Because all I can really think about right now is how I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you.

  6

  Natalie

  I would have to go back later and examine why I’d lied to him about both my name and my job. Actually, I hadn’t outright lied to him—it wasn’t as though I’d told him I was a car mechanic called Sarah—Chantelle was my middle name, and I was technically a teacher. Still, my desire for anonymity was curious, even to me. It was an idle chat with a stranger in a bar. No need for the weird cloak-and-dagger routine.

  “There’s not going to be any other time, so it’s now or never.”

  I saw his disappointment as he registered my words, but it was fleeting, and moments later he carried on as though it was no biggie. I wondered about that too. We were two people in busy nightspot, chatting about random inconsequential nonsense. Why would there be a repeat occasion? More to the point, why would he care?

  Inconsequential though it may have been, I definitely enjoyed hearing his thoughts on both versions of the movie, before he then moved on to his top ten, all-time favorites, at my request. For someone so young—and he really was young; eighteen, nineteen, maybe?—he knew a lot about movies. All his choices were smart, quirky and interesting, not mainstream blockbuster crap. He clearly had great taste, and a good head on his shoulders.

  He was giving me his take on the cultural significance of Marlon Brando’s wifebeater in A Streetcar Named Desire, when his words faded mid-sentence. He hadn’t looked away from me since we’d started speaking, except to order drinks, but now his focus was elsewhere in the room, obviously trailing something or someone. I followed his eye line and, as I had suspected, it was definitely someone.

  Someone tall, slim, and stunningly beautiful, and also about his age. As she too searched the room, I took in more of her appearance. The unique Eurasian features—huge dark eyes, porcelain skin, and full rosebud lips, her tall, willowy frame—she was like a china doll crossed with Bambi, in the very best possible way. Stunning didn’t even cover it.

  “Do you need to go?”

  “Huh?” It was as though he’d forgotten that he’d literally been mid-sentence when the girl had caught his eye.

  “I figured she was a…friend and you needed to go now.”

  “Marnie? Sure, she’s a friend. She’s also my brother’s girl. I’ll just go say hi, and let her know where he is.”

  “Okay, cool. Bye, then. It was nice chatting to you.”

  “What? No. I’ll be like, two minutes. I just need to tell her he’s out back, then I’ll be right back.”

  “It’s okay. Like I said before, I need to be getting home anyway, so now’s a good time.” It was. It had been an eye-opening and unexpectedly fun chat, but I was happy to call it a night, ticking another item off the Fuck It List.

  “No. Don’t move. Honestly, I’ll be right back. Anyway, I’ve ordered more drinks, so you can’t leave yet.”

  He had? When had that happened? Apart from when the girl had walked in, he’d hardly drawn breath while he’d spoken animatedly about movies. There was no way he had ordered drinks. I said nothing, figuring that once he was up and chatting to the girl, he’d forget all about me, and I could slip away into the night without him noticing.

  “I mean it. I’m gonna keep my eyes on you, so don’t even think about sneaking off as soon as I step away.”

  Had I said the words aloud without realizing?

  I shrugged, watching him as he made his way across the room to the girl. I saw the moment she noticed him moving across the crowd—her previously serious expression gave way to a broad grin that lit up her whole face, and she flung her arms around him as he got close, clearly extremely pleased to see him. I couldn’t see his face as he had his back to me, but I was sure the grin was reciprocated, though I noted that he was a little stiff and halting in returning her hug. Interesting.

  I felt a little weird and stalkerish as I watched them disappear across the room, but I did it anyway. When I lost sight of them, I decided to follow through with my plan to bail while was out of sight. I hadn’t actually promised him I’d stay, and I definitely didn’t owe him anything. He was a total stranger, and a young stranger, at that.

  I slid out of the booth, picking up my jacket and slipping it on, busying myself gathering my things— my purse, my pho
ne, the iPad I’d been making notes on while I watched the movie, and my scarf—and began fishing for my keys in my purse. As my hand found them in the large cavity, the thought dawned on me that given how much I’d had to drink, I couldn’t drive home now. Clearly I hadn’t thought through that part of my hastily developed plan. I’d have to leave the car and come back for it the next day. Shit.

  I perched back on the edge of the seat, jacket done up, scarf wound tightly around my neck, phone in hand to book an Uber. I was just about to confirm the booking when the waitress from earlier returned to the table with two more drinks. Damn. I looked at them, hesitating about what to do next. It seemed rude to disappear when there were drinks on the table. He had said he’d ordered more, but I’d assumed he was just saying that. He must have done it when he’d crossed the room with his friend.

  I stared at the drinks for a few more moments before making up my mind. Turning back to my cell, I confirmed the booking. Drinks or no drinks, I was out of there. I didn’t owe him anything. I slid off the seat again, and into a broad, toned chest. Damn.

  “Going somewhere? I thought I asked you to wait?”

  “You did, but I don’t remember agreeing to do so. I booked an Uber.”

  7

  Luke

  That was true. She hadn’t agreed to anything aloud, but I’d assumed she was going to stay when I’d asked her. I guess it was true what they said about making an ass of yourself when you assumed. I was well on the way to doing that with Chantelle.

  “Okay, fair enough. Let’s go then.”

  “Okay, well like I said, it was great hanging with you. Take care. Wait. What do you mean, ‘let’s go’?”

  “Which part are you confused about?” My tone was snappier than I would have wanted, but what had just gone down with Arlo and Marnie had pissed me off, but also made me extra anxious to get back to Chantelle. Then when I did, she was trying to sneak away, just like I’d specifically asked her not to. My patience was dwindling, it was true.