Before You Go

TWO

“B 9,” the announcer calls out to the drunken Bingo players. “B 9.”

“We’re glad your cancer is benign,” the crowd replies in unison.

Oh yes, we’re in that kind of place.

“So, stranger,” I say to my new friend. “What do you do when you’re not letting young women pick you up at a bar?”

“Well.” His face flushes a bit. “I’m a writer.”

I nod, impressed. “Ah, very cool. And what put you on that path?”

He tips his head and stills for a moment. “A love for Salinger, I guess.”

“Oh, no.” I cringe. “Don’t tell me. The Catcher in the Rye?”

“Among others.” Now he nudges me. “What?” He studies my face. “You don’t like one of the best books of all time?”

“It’s not that I hated it or anything, I just didn’t get it.”

He scrunches up his face and takes a deep breath, “Well, there’s this kid, Holden Caulfield, and he’s expelled from school.”

“No,” I interrupt. “I understand the story. But I guess it really didn’t speak to me.”

“What?” he asks, shaking his head.

“Calm down, Holden,” I say in the most soothing voice I can muster. “We don’t have time for a literary argument right now. We have an important game of Bingo to play.”

“Holden, huh?” He scratches his head and messes his hair even more, while I fight the urge to put my fingers in it.

“Mmm hmm,” I say before I grab our Bingo cards. “It’s the perfect name for you.”

“Okay, okay,” he says, looking me over. “Well, if I’m Holden, then you’re Scout.”

“Pardon?” I question while reaching over the bar to grab two blotters for the game.

“Scout from To Kill a Mockingbird?”

“Why Scout? She’s a little kid,” I say a bit insulted.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “But she’s smart, spunky, and wise beyond her years.”

“I like that,” I say, again without thinking.

“Me too.” He takes the blotter from my hand, touching my fingers a little longer than necessary.

My stomach flips and I pray my face does not betray me with a blush.

This is going very well. Still, I need to get a handle on the situation. This is not a date. It’s a sleazy pick-up, one that will hopefully end in a one-night stand. Then maybe I can undo everything Thomas did to me. It’s all about control. And if I can do this, maybe I can take control of my life again. I like the sound of it.

I just hope it works this time.

“Alright, Holden. Let’s see if you can run two cards at the same time.”

And with perfect timing, the announcer calls out a fan favorite. “O 69,” he bellows. “Happy meal. O 69.”

This time I join in with the crowd, “Ten toes up. Ten toes down. O 69.”

Holden raises an eyebrow in my direction and I shrug. When at Rye’s …

After a few rounds, we’re both pretty into the game and when “B 4” rings out from the microphone, Holden yells, “Not after but before.”

He’s seriously cute. Okay, not cute. Sexy—as hell. I might actually take pleasure in what comes after this.

I check my phone for the time. Yes, it’s now or never.

“Shoot,” I say, leaning into Holden a little. “I need to catch the bus. The last one leaves in five minutes.”

He pulls his eyebrows together and frowns. “But I was just getting the hang of the game.”

Come on, come on.

“You should stay and play. Pervy Santa is a blast once you get to know him. You won’t even miss me.”

“I doubt that, Scout.” He sucks on his bottom lip and I’m lost for a minute.

Offer me a ride, goddammit!

“I have a car here,” he says.

And…

“I could give you a ride home if you want to stay for another game.”

There we go.

“Okay,” I say, trying not to jump up and down with joy. “I’d like that.”

#

Two hours and a few drinks later, someone yells out a final Bingo. The players are all feeling pretty good at this point, myself included. Holden switched over to water a while ago, the responsible gentleman I’ve learned he is, so he is totally composed.

The announcer collects the last of the cards, but before the crowd can grow restless, the bartender turns up the music. Soon everyone is singing to classic Pearl Jam.

Holden looks at me, his eyes grow dark. He holds me there for a long moment before sweeping my hair off my shoulder. He leans in and his proximity does amazing things to my skin. It’s buzzing, begging to be touched.

“Wanna dance?” he whispers in my ear.

Yes.

“To Eddie Vedder,” I scoff. “Really?” I haven’t danced since that night, and though I so want to get closer to Holden, I’m scared. This game has become increasingly difficult to play.

“Really,” he says, reaching for my hand.

I try to empty my mind as he pulls me into a corner. Nobody’s dancing, but most people are too trashed to notice us in the dark. Holden pulls me close and I breathe him in. He smells like pine and spice and fire.

Winter.

My body adheres to his every contour, so tight not even light can pass between us. He wraps an arm around the small of my back while his other hand climbs up, securing around my neck.

I rest my cheek on his chest and he begins to move. The music teases me and my body responds, swaying slowly to the heavy beat. It feels better than I care to admit.

Holden’s fingers snake through my hair and my back arches, pushing into him even deeper. I don’t mean to do it. I don’t want to be this needy, but I can’t help myself. A moan echoes in his chest and I close my eyes, letting my body enjoy what he’s doing to me without allowing my pesky brain to interfere.

Suddenly, Holden pulls back. His hands rest on my hips, holding me at an arm’s length. Then they travel up the sides of my body and stop dangerously close to my breasts. I am on high alert, feeling every sensation. I pray my tank top covers up what he’s doing to me. But when Holden’s eyes skim down the length of my body, there’s no hope as my nipples tighten against my cotton shirt.

God, no. Don’t look there.

He pauses a beat too long on my chest and he pulls me in again. “Are you ready to leave?”

The understatement of the millennium.

“I am,” I say, willing my body to calm down. Something I’ve never had to do before with a guy. Usually, I had to talk myself into feeling something—begging my body to react. Even with Thomas. I wanted to want to be with him, and I really tried. He was perfect, at least I thought so at the time. But I think it was the idea of him I liked, not the real person.

This, what I’m feeling now, is new and unsettling.

Holden grabs my hand and links his fingers through mine, a movement even more intimate than the dance.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Yeah, let’s go,” I answer.

Hand in hand, we walk out the door.