by Ethan Egorov
“I think I owe you an apology.” His voice comes out of nowhere to the right of me, I jump and clutch my fingers over my chest as I scowl at him.
When I gather myself again, I drop the shirt I was folding and turn to face him. I cross my arms and regard him carefully. He’s wearing a purplish graphic tee that hangs around his muscles, perfect faded jeans, and his hair has that artful mess to it that it always does.
“You think?” I chew the inside of my cheek as I wait.
He clears his throat, nodding as he steps closer. He stops by the wall behind the register, Juul pods and cigarettes for sale, and leans against it. His hands get stuffed in his pockets and I tear my eyes away from the veins following down his dark-haired arms.
“I uh… I just don’t want to complicate your life. I tend to do that to people.”
I roll my eyes. “Oh please. I really wish you would spare me the it’s me not you line.”
He grins, “It’s not a line, it’s the truth.”
I shake my head and sigh. “Whatever, Spencer. I just want to help my dad out here at the shop and then leave when my summer is up. Can you try not to complicate that?” My throat tightens and I swallow it down.
His expression passes with pain but I don’t let myself get affected by that. I had to say it, and he doesn’t necessarily need to know how much he has hurt me.
“Yeah. Sure.” He straightens up, taking his hands out of his pockets and walking off.
I release a deep breath and go back to folding shirts. I do that for hours, keeping my mind as busy as possible. I won’t forget the look on his face when I said that, but I know that I need to. I have a tendency even worse than him, which is to apologize even when I don’t need to. But at least he apologized…
I stop myself from going down that train of thought, and it’s helped by a customer walking in.
It ends up being two girls, at least eighteen, dressed in crop tops and jeans. I frown at them on instinct, they already seem like the kind of girls I hated in high school. I take the empty box to the back to avoid them, surely, they can find their way around.
When I come back, they are heavily chatting up Spencer. Or trying to. They are by the register, leaning over the table, Spencer is scanning their stuff. I don’t know why I get that ugly pang of jealousy in the pit of my stomach, but I do, and it sucks. He isn’t even remotely mine, I shouldn’t feel like this at all. In all my time staring at him, he glances up for the first time, his smile dropping, and I quickly look away. I find something else to do, which just ends up being sitting in the back room to pretend to look at inventory sheets, math stuff that I’m not really good at.
It only takes a few moments before my eyes start stinging. This really sucks, I don’t even know him, but I am already hurt by being ignored by him. It doesn’t make sense.
A knock at the door forces me from my thoughts.
“Hey,” Spencer announces himself in that sappy deep voice of his. I don’t mean it in a bad way, his voice is just soft and even as it is deep.
“Hi.” I lay my hands across the papers, wringing them together like it will take out my nerves.
“Can I sit?” he gestures to the spare desk chair.
I sigh, “Don’t you have a conversation to get back to.” I snipe.
He chuckles, sitting anyway. “Are you jealous of the groupies?” his grin is too infectious not to smile back.
“The groupies?” I make a face.
He licks his lips and nods. “Yeah, you know, they hang around the club and here sometimes.”
“Oh.” I guess I’m not here often to know that.
“I am sorry, Jeannine. About not calling.” His expression turns serious and I lose myself in the sincerity of his eyes. That’s how I know. I learned that from my dad, looking people right in the eye to try and read them. I never thought I was good at it until now. The uneasy feeling in my chest leaves when I look at him, and it turns into something else.
“Why didn’t you? I mean, is there a good reason or are you just sorry?” now I am just giving him a hard time, but I still want to know.
He licks his lips and leans forward, making a table of his knees and resting his elbows on them.
“It was… because of your dad. Which I know sounds shitty but you have to understand that this club was like my thousandth chance. And I can’t fuck things up, because then my brother will kill me.” He laughs it off and I stare at him for a good while before I get what he is saying.
“Who is your brother?”
He frowns, “That’s what you got out of that?” he shakes his head. “My brother is the vice president. Roland.”
I giggle, realizing why it felt so weird when I saw him last night. They look more alike, now that I know.
“That’s not all I got out of that. I’m sorry that my father scares you.” I mock him.
He scoffs, “he doesn’t—I can’t mess this up, Jeannine. If you knew…” he trails off and scratches at his eyes, combing his hair back with both hands.
I am surprised when he stands and comes over to me. I stare wide eyed from the chair I sit in and watch him as he crouches down in front of me. I’m close enough to smell his intoxicating scent and dive into the depth of his eyes.
“I said that’s why I didn’t call before. But I… when I walked in and saw you, I felt like a complete idiot. I want you, Jeannine. No matter who doesn’t want me to.” His voice gets deeper than before and it washes down my body, pooling in a place I forgot existed until I met him.
I swallow, “Really?” I whisper.
He licks his lips, trailing his eyes over me slowly. His hands reach up and grab my calves and my breath hitches.
“Yeah, really.”
“You want me like as a friend or—” I giggle, doing the same thing he did to me.
He laughs fully, a delicious rumble in his chest I hadn’t heard before.
“What about my dad? I mean obviously he can’t find out—” I break off.
He shrugs, “I’d rather deal with that later.” He leans in closer and I stop breathing altogether.
I have horrible kissing experience, it should just be counted as none at all. The closer he gets, the more my mind wanders until I can’t even make a coherent thought. I inhale his swarming scent; his lips get close enough to mine I feel his warm breath fan across. He seems to grow tired of dancing around it when he just crosses the space and crushes his lips to mine. I am caught on a gasp when he parts my lips and deepens the kiss. I reach out and grasp his face, his stubble tickling my palm. I turn my head into the kiss and inhale, getting all the air I need to continue. His grip tightens on my legs before he moves his hands and cups my face. His hands are warm, thumbs calloused as they brush across my cheek bones. His fingers lace into my hair, and I know it will tangle it but I don’t care. This kiss feels so real and I don’t know what to do except to kiss him back as hard as I can. And he is damn good at it. Even with no tongue, the kiss feels like sex itself. But he breaks away too soon, and I am left struggling to breathe.
I drop my hands from him, touching my fingers against my lips. They’re warm and tingly, just like his eyes are looking at me right now.
“Sorry, I had to. I would have waited until at least the first date.” He grins, tucking my hair away before moving his hands.
I smile, “date?” I get excited, I’ve never really been on a first date before with anyone. My life has been group outings and accidentally ending up alone with a guy.
“Yeah, date.”
I giggle, “We should finish up work before we get too distracted.”
He nods in agreement. I stand, too fast I think, and my head spins. I know it’s not just from the mind-blowing kiss, but from not having eaten all day.
“Wow,” Spencer stands, his hands steadying me at my waist. “I guess I’m not as out of practice as I thought I was.” He chuckles.
I swat at his chest but accept the help. My body presses to his, I breathe out and my breasts brush against him,
I shiver from the feeling because it makes me feel more like a woman, when he holds me like this.
“Nice try. I forgot to eat breakfast, I’m just a little lightheaded.” I explain.
He nods once and smirks, “Good thing I always bring snacks.” His hands move around my waist, sliding across the front of my stomach before they leave me. I get a little self-conscious about it but he doesn’t notice.
I follow him out of the room, it’s like walking back into daylight in the shop. There are a few people browsing around and I feel bad we were just in there sucking face. He reaches in his jacket leaning over a box by the register and hands me a candy bar.
“Go recharge, I got these people.” He grins, the one that makes me just smile back without thinking.
“Thanks.” I take it and go to the back room to eat it.
I feel better only halfway through and realize how sluggish I was. I try to make it seem like I am working but all I can do is think about that kiss. About Spencer actually wanting me.
He is more sincere than I thought he was. Genuine. And I know he didn’t get that from the club. It makes me want to find out what actually makes him himself. Where he came from, all that stuff. I wouldn’t know if any other guys at the club, or in school, liked me the same way. But they never did anything about it. People who know my dad don’t try to know me, that’s just the way it is.
But Spencer is wiling to risk whatever it is he has at the club for me. I don’t know how far this will go but I feel like he deserves more than for it to be something casual, that threatens his place at the club. I know my dad better than anyone, and if I tell him upfront, he would understand. But I don’t know Tank, I don’t know what it is he might do to a member that crosses him, and I don’t want Spencer to be my way of finding out.
7
Spencer
Roland and I haven’t spoken since that day at the gym. I thought I had just one thing to worry about, now there are two.
I had that shitty feeling in the pit of my stomach for a long time after seeing Jeannine. I felt bad for even thinking it, for this being our situation. But even though I was mad at Roland, I still didn’t want to do anything that would jeopardize my place in the club. The one that he got me into and helped me turn my life around.
Damn.
Why did Jeannine have to be Tank’s daughter? Couldn’t she have been anyone else, even if it was in the club. But no, this is just my luck.
I can’t stop thinking about her.
Every day I look at her contact info on my phone and wish I could just text her and tell her why I am so hesitant about this, but I don’t.
It wouldn’t be fair to put all that on her. It isn’t her fault who birthed her. I of all people, know that.
“Hey dipshit, there’s pizza in the fridge.” Roland barges in my room. I’ve been dreading going to the shop today, it just reminds me of Jeannine now. But I can’t miss work because I have a pension for a girl I can’t have.
“You don’t knock? What if I was jacking off?” I throw my pillow at him standing in the doorway.
He shrugs, “Wouldn’t be the first time. Are you done avoiding me like a preteen?”
I laugh and sit up. “I’m not avoiding you. I’m avoiding you asking me about doing shit at the club that I don’t want to do.” I scratch my bare chest and yawn, sleeping in till noon isn’t the best idea.
“Then I won’t ask about it anymore.”
I look at his blank expression. He probably just needed someone to talk to.
“Okay.” I get up and stretch.
“You coming to the club tonight?” he asks. It’s Friday, so I don’t really have a choice, but I just confirm that I am for the sake of solidarity.
He leaves and then I piss and shower before getting dressed. I take the bike to work, which I have been doing since I got it.
It’s actually easier to lug around than my truck. I park out front and then start out back to take the trash out and check the back door is still locked. If it’s open, someone probably tried to break in.
We share the space with the shop right next to us, a bargain store or something. but their owner never does shit.
The last thing I expected was to see Jeannine here, but of course I don’t get the courtesy from fate or whoever. I told her I would text her, and I didn’t. I’m not surprised she doesn’t want to speak to me.
Saying I complicate things is an understatement. I have legit ruined people’s lives just for being there, but it doesn’t seem that good of an excuse to her.
Only the truth will do, and it takes the most vapid pair of girls to give me the push I need to tell her. I don’t want women that pretend, that throw themselves at me even. I want what I had with Jeannine, being able to talk to someone and have a real conversation. The way I felt in those short moments with her… it would be worth everything, even—
I walk back to where she hid out in the back room, to try and redeem myself somehow.
“Hey.” I lean against the door frame and look at her.
She looks absolutely gorgeous, as she always does. Her wildly curly hair is a little less wild today, but still beautiful. And I saw her earlier in those jeans she has on, I’ve never seen a riper ass and pair of legs in my life. I tell myself to focus, though, before I say the wrong thing again.
“Hi.” She looks up from the inventory sheets.
“Can I sit?”
“Don’t you have a conversation to get back to.” She sighs, her words sharp. I laugh and walk over to the spare chair across from the desk.
“Are you jealous of the groupies?” I smile at her, finding it hard not to make jokes with her. I saw her face, when she saw me talking to those girls, and I wish that she hadn’t. I’m not exactly an asshole, I talked back to them as much as they talked to me. But when they invited me to some sort of graduation pool party I quickly declined. I am definitely not the twenty-two-year-old that hangs around high school parties.
“The groupies?” she screws up her face, her button nose scrunching up.
It might be my favorite thing that she does.
I lick my lips, nodding “Yeah, you know, they hang around the club and here sometimes.” I learned about them from Logan, and I am glad that I did. They seem like regular girls at first. But after I started seeing the same ones every other day, I caught on.
“Oh.”
I take a deep breath and try to figure out how to word this. I don’t think I have ever actually apologized to someone before, not like this. I’ve said it in passing but I hadn’t really meant it. This time I mean it. I hate that I probably made her feel like I lied, or that I didn’t like her. Because I do like her, a whole fucking lot.
“I am sorry, Jeannine. About not calling.” I take another breath and look into her eyes. She seems to soften upon seeing me, and I find it hard to continue, just from how vulnerable she looks. She needs this, she has to know why.
“Why didn’t you? I mean, is there a good reason or are you just sorry?” she asks, her voice is the softest I have ever heard it and I disappear inside her conscience, it forces the truth out of me.
I moisten my lips again and lean forward, drawing my hands together and clasping my fingers.
“It was… because of your dad. Which I know sounds shitty but you have to understand that this club was like my thousandth chance. And I can’t fuck things up, because then my brother will kill me.” I laugh but I don’t find it funny at all. My brother asked for a really simple thing and I can’t believe this is what might make me fuck it up. But I don’t care about that anymore. I want Jeannine to be mine, I just need to figure out how.
“Who is your brother?”
I frown, “that’s what you got out of that?” I shake my head and laugh under my breath. “My brother is the vice president. Roland.”
She giggles, something passing over her face that I can’t place.
“That’s not all I got out of that. I’m sorry that my father scares you.” She says. There is a mock
ing sense to her tone and I frown.
I try and find my words so it doesn’t sound like I think her dad might be the biggest ass on the planet.
“He doesn’t—I can’t mess this up, Jeannine. If you knew…” I trail off.
My nerves make me scratch at my heating face and comb my hair back in frustration.
I feel like I am too far away from her. something about her just grounds me. I get up and walk over to her, inhaling her calming scent as soon as I get close enough. I crouch down in front of her, taking in the softness of her skin and kindness in her eyes. She’s too good and pure for me, I know it already.
“I said that’s why I didn’t call before. But I… when I walked in and saw you, I felt like a complete idiot. I want you, Jeannine. No matter who doesn’t want me to.” I lower my voice on purpose, not wanting to sway her, but knowing the effect it has on women.
It seems to work when she swallows audibly, “really?” she whispers.
I lick my lips again, trailing my eyes over her slowly. I reach around and grab her calves, feeling her warmth even through the denim. I feel her flinch too, as her breath rises once.
“Yeah, really.” I tell her and mean it.
“You want me like as a friend or—” she giggles, messing with me the same way I messed with her.
I laugh aloud from purely being happy. I’m glad that she forgave me. I don’t know what I might have done if I didn’t have a second chance. I almost screwed the whole thing up. But I know for sure that I will definitely call when I say I will.
“What about my dad? I mean obviously he can’t find out—” her eyes widen as she stumbles over her words, trailing off.
I shrug, “I’d rather deal with that later.” I lean in closer to her and I can hear her stop breathing. Her skin flushes, around her cheeks and ears.