“Oh, we’re having children now, are we?”
“Guess that’s up to you.”
I shake my head. “This time answer the question seriously.”
“Okay.” He sighs. “The grim reality is, I’ll probably be back in Denver working for the family business.”
“The one you’re currently AWOL from?”
“Yep. This pleasant break from all of the bullshit will end eventually. I’ll go back and do what’s expected of me.” And he doesn’t look happy about it either. “What about you?”
“I don’t know. I think I’d like to do some post-grad study. But the cost involved…” I let the thought dwindle away. One day I’ll figure it out and find my motivation. Stop being the runt of the family. My brother is in IT and is doing great. But then, he was always top of his science classes. Meanwhile, I had my nose in a book and my head in the clouds. Real life can be hard for a dreamer who lives mostly inside their own head. Or maybe it’s just bouncing back from disappointments that takes longer. Hard to move forward when your mind has a penchant for torturing you by reliving your worst moments and undermining your confidence. Sometimes I really am my own worst enemy. One day I’ll grow up, get a better job, and be a great success. Make my parents proud. Anytime now would be good.
I finish the slice of pizza and commence wiping my greasy fingers with a paper napkin. Oh, awesome. An oil spot marks the front of my pale blue shirt.
“Come here.” He catches my chin, carefully wiping beside my lips with his own napkin. “Wife, you’re a hot mess. Emphasis on hot.”
Maybe this is it. Maybe now he’ll finally make his move. After all, you couldn’t ask for a more romantic setting. Rain and misty streetlights. Just me and him and a whole sleeping city. Apart from the drunk down the way shouting out lyrics to a Led Zeppelin song. Someone yells at him to shut up from a nearby building. Such is LA.
“But that song’s a California classic,” I murmur.
“Like and/or lust in her eyes and tomato sauce on her lips.”
“At least it’s not in my hair.” And we’re standing so close, but all I want is to get closer. The man makes me greedy. “Beck?”
“Hmm?”
“What are you thinking about?”
“Stuff. Important stuff.”
“Oh, really?” I smile. “Are you going to kiss me?”
His gaze fixes on my mouth, pupils large and dark. “Kiss you?”
“Yes.”
He brushes the pad of his thumb slowly over my bottom lip. Such a small touch yet it echoes through me making every nerve ending sing. This man is magic. He licks his lips and I can almost taste him, I swear.
“I should,” he says, his breath leaving him on a sigh. “But I’m not going to. Not yet.”
“Why not?”
Instead, he takes me in his arms, fitting his long strong body to mine. Of course, this is all nice and good and even beginning to get a little familiar. The scent of him and the way he rests his cheek on top of my head. I tighten my arms around his waist, pressing myself up against him. In response, one of his hands slides down my back, grabbing hold of my ass. Nothing subtle about the move, but I don’t mind. We’re as wound around each other as we can manage on a city street. As close as we can be while fully dressed.
“I will kiss you,” he whispers in my ear. “When the time is exactly, perfectly, without a doubt, right.”
“That’d better be soon.”
“It will be.”
Here’s the thing…dick is, generally speaking, readily available. What’s rarer is liking the person with the appendage. It presents something of a quandary if you’re attempting a simple straightforward sort of existence. Not that I know what I’m doing with my life. Let’s not pretend I have a clue. But wanting to talk, spend quality time together, as opposed to just playing naked before moving on, is tricky. Sex becomes much less meaningless when you grow feelings for the guy. When you can’t stop thinking about him and want to know his opinion about pretty much everything.
And that’s a little scary because feelings are the worst.
Then there’s the complication of us working together. Though, to be fair, it might not be an actual impediment so much as me searching for reasons to try and slow down my head and my heart. Any opportunity to guard against future hurt has, however, long since passed. Let’s be honest.
“Food?” he asks as I lock the back door.
We’ve known each other for four days and we already have a coupledom routine. This is crazy.
“Wife,” he says, placing a hand low on my back. “You’re frowning. What can I do?”
“Just thinking.”
“About what?”
Further revealing my various neuroses and assorted fears regarding his interest in me won’t help anything. I shake my head, shove the keys into my handbag, and tell him a lie. “It was a busy night, is all.”
“Yeah, it was.”
Unresolved sexual tension fills the dark alley along with the scent of garbage. He smiles and, as usual, my stomach turns upside down and inside out. It’s messy and gravity defying, the effect he has on me. If only he didn’t make me feel things outside of the crotch region. Life would be so much simpler. I don’t believe in love at first sight or even within the first few weeks of acquaintance, to be honest. It’s too Hollywood. Too extreme. Yet while I’m not exactly sure what this is, it feels important. And given we both have the next two days off, now is the time to figure it out.
“Are you up to being wooed over ketchup and fries? Or we don’t have to go to the diner,” he says. “I mean, if you’re not in the mood or whatever. We could do something else. Go for pizza again or take another walk on the beach, maybe?”
My brain has stalled. I have nothing. “Um…”
“Or I can just walk you to your car, if you want. Say good night.” Now he’s frowning too. It’s contagious, apparently. “Say something, Alice. You’re making me nervous and I’m not used to it.”
“Which is weird given how it’s basically my state of being.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I’m just…I’m thinking. I need a minute.”
“One minute.” He holds his plastic wristwatch up to his face. “And…go.”
“Very funny,” I mumble.
Beck doesn’t own a car. He says he doesn’t need one. When he decides it’s time to move on, he just catches a bus or train into the next town. In the meantime, he’s living in a hostel nearby. Further proof that this is all temporary. A dalliance. An opportunity only open to me for a limited amount of time so I should make the most of it while I can. That would be the smart thing to do. Thinking about how much I’ll probably miss him when he’s gone would be less smart, however, yet unavoidable for various reasons.
What are my options? If I’d never met him that would have been sad. He makes me laugh. Hell, the last few days I’ve actually looked forward to work. And attempting to friend zone him would never have succeeded. The thirst is real. Though even in that impossible instance, it still would have sucked when he left. I think my anxiety has now mentally covered every possible scenario between us. Enough of the dithering.