CHAPTER TEN
Tuesday crawled by slower than a turtle stuck in molasses. And by eleven o’clock that night, I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned for hours, counted sheep, drank warm milk, and even tried reading my macroeconomics textbook, but nothing worked. My mind wouldn’t rest. It fought me like a two year-old refusing bedtime. I just wanted to sleep; my body was exhausted.
When I finally did succumb to sleep, I dreamed about Christian. We were spending a lazy Saturday on a small sailboat out on the lake behind my Gamma’s house. It was a windless, sunny day and we were just relaxing and enjoying the warmth of the sun on our skin.
His lips brushed my shoulder seductively, then nibbled my collar bone. My skin heated with each contact as I anticipated where those lips would touch next. Heat pooled low in my belly, and my muscles clenched with want.
Nibble.
Suck.
Lick.
Groan.
When he finally reached my lips, I opened my eyes to eagerly return his kisses, but it wasn’t Christian who leaned over me. It was Grant.
I blinked in surprise, but the change didn’t stop me. If anything, I wanted him even more. I kissed him with a hungry fervor and couldn’t get enough of the taste of his skin, salty with sweat. I scored his back and shoulders with my nails to drive him closer as he peeled the tiny bathing suit from my body. Droplets of blood trickled down his back, but neither of us stopped or even slowed down. We couldn’t get close enough. I needed to consume him, and be consumed by him.
I woke up, sweat drenched and panting. There was still over an hour before my alarm was set to go off, but I was too unsettled to attempt sleep again. So I crawled out of bed, made an extra-strong pot of coffee, and took a long, scalding shower. Wrapped in a terrycloth robe, hair twisted in a fluffy towel on top of my head, I scrolled through my Facebook page for a while as I drank my first cup of black gold.
But even after my second cup, I had plenty of time before I needed to leave, so I decided to curl my normally wavy hair. With the humidity of the Georgia summer, it usually was all I could do to keep it from becoming a tangled, frizzy mess. I opted for French braids or pony tails most days to get it out of my face.
This has nothing to do with seeing Grant tonight, I reasoned. What else am I going to do with my time since I’m up at the butt-crack of dawn?
When I walked to my car to drive the six short miles to Allegro, I worked to control my excitement about today. The dream from last night played on repeat in the forefront of my mind, making me wish I’d taken a cold shower instead. I hadn’t heard from Christian since our last text, and with Ava and Trish away as camp counselors for the next two weeks, this was the first time I’d gotten to go out since my shopping trip before I started my new job.
I’d left a note on the kitchen counter, letting my mom know I was meeting new friends after work and not to wait up. Ever since I started college, Mom didn’t bother with a curfew, explaining, “I wouldn’t tell you what time to be back at your dorm, so why should I make you come home when you’re on summer break? Just do not drive if you’ve been drinking. Call me at any hour and I’ll come pick you up.”
I loved the freedom my mom awarded me, and never abused her trust. I always texted or left a note if I had plans to stay out late, or not come home at all. My dad ground his teeth so hard I was sure they’d be nubs, but he never said anything about my sleepovers with Christian. Though sometimes, I’d hear him muttering, “She’s an adult, not my baby girl,” over and over.
I stopped to say good morning to Connie before taking the long way around—avoiding the IT department—toward my cubicle. I knew it was stupid, and immature, but I hadn’t seen Grant since he asked me to the beach party last Friday, and after The Dream, I knew I’d say or do something moronic to embarrass myself. Like “accidently” stumbling onto his lips.
Just before lunch, as I was typing a message to a sales rep out of the office, the computer froze. I wasn’t sure if I’d done something wrong or if it was a coincidence, but either way I didn’t care. I couldn’t contain my smile as I called IT, taking out my sea glass to play with it for a minute. Yes, I should feel guilty, but I couldn’t bring myself to feel bad about desiring him. It was a chemical reaction in my body and nothing I could control. I wasn’t acting on it, but I would no longer feel guilty for wanting to drool over those dimples and run my hands down his hard, taut stomach. The body wanted what the body wanted.
When the tech arrived, I had to resist the urge to pout. It wasn’t Grant. He’d always come before, and suddenly I wondered if he was even at work. Did that mean he wouldn’t be at bowling tonight?
“Oh, hi. I’m Jillian.” I extended my hand to the balding forty-something man. “We haven’t met. Usually...” I paused. “Usually someone else comes.”
The man snorted and rolled his eyes, leaving me wondering what it meant. “Yeah, Grant. I know. He’s at lunch now, so you’re stuck with me.”
I bit my lip to keep from smiling. “Oh, okay. Well, thanks for coming to help.”
The man grunted. “Yeah, well, maybe next time you can plan your little ‘episode’ for when you know he’s here.”
“Huh?” I tilted my head, completely lost to his end of the conversation.
“I’m so sick of all you girls purposefully breaking shit so you can flirt a little with him for a few minutes. It’s causing too much of a paperwork hassle for me. Enough already!” He clicked a final button and the computer started back up, good as new.
“I’m sorry; I have no idea what you’re talking about. My computer froze, I called IT. I didn’t do it to see him. I have a boyfriend. I just needed help.”
The man scooted out of the cubicle and waved a hand dismissively. “Sure, sweetheart. ‘Cause you couldn’t hit the restart button on your own?”
He walked away, not leaving me the chance to respond. My cheeks burned with embarrassment at his accusation, but more so that I didn’t think to try to restart it on my own before calling for help. Everyone knows that should have been step one, but I was so preoccupied with the idea of seeing him that I forgot to try it first.
I groaned and plopped my head down on the desk. Who was I kidding? I was crushing on Grant big time. I couldn’t deny it any more. Maybe I was kidding myself about bowling tonight only being about making new friends. If that’s all it really was, I wouldn’t feel like the wind got knocked out of me right now. Maybe I shouldn’t go after all; I didn’t need more temptation.
I was packing up my purse and logging off the computer to head to lunch when a light knock came from behind me. It was Tonya, smiling happily.
“You’re still coming out with us tonight, right?”
I let out a breath and thought about how to respond. “I really appreciate the offer, but I think I’m going to pass this time.”
Tonya crossed her arms over her chest, reminding me of Ava. “Oh come on, don’t be a wuss. We won’t beat you too bad. It’ll be fun!”
I shook my head no again. “I’m sorry. I’m just not up for it.”
Tonya bent down and opened up her massive purse that could have doubled for an overnight bag. “Look, I even got you a company bowling shirt. And with Emmalee out with the food poisoning, we’re down a player. Come on! You’ll totally be helping us out.”
She tossed me the shirt, and I had no more excuses to say no. “All right, I’ll go.”
That night, I followed behind Tonya to the bowling alley and immediately ducked into the restroom to change. I’d already packed a change of clothes that morning before I left. I slipped on the micro-short white jean shorts. They were by far the skimpiest pair I owned, but they highlighted my short, tan legs. I tied the bowling shirt in the back so it cinched a little more at my waist and touched up my mascara and lip gloss before taking a deep breath and heading out to join the others.
I found the group laughing and toasting with their drinks over at the smoke-filled bar area. Six people were already crammed into a booth meant for four, and I stood awkwardly for a moment debating again if this was a good idea. As soon as I began walking toward them, I spotted Grant.
He was at the bar grabbing drinks. I forced my legs to keep walking, and kept my eyes on the table, trying to ignore how good he looked in his jeans that rode low on his hips. His T-shirt lifted when he raised the tray of drinks above his head, giving me a peek at his flat abs and the deep V low on his stomach that I had the urge to trace with my tongue.
Shaking off my naughty thoughts, I followed him. By the time I made it through the crowd to the booth, there was nowhere left to sit. It was a tight squeeze before he arrived, and even as petite as I was, there was no way I was fitting in there as well. I tucked my hair behind my ear as I stood, weighing my options while I tried to find my voice.
“Hey, y’all,” I greeted, barely above a whisper. Why did I suddenly feel like this was a first date? Ridiculous!
“Hey, there you are!” Tonya yelled, finishing the last of her beer before taking another from the tray. I could tell it probably wasn’t her first by her already slightly slurred speech. “Have a seat right there.” She pointed to the sliver of space next to Grant. “Don’t mind him. He won’t bite—trust me, I’ve tried!” She laughed heartily at her own joke, and the group joined in. I could feel the heat rising to my face again and quickly pulled my hair from behind my ears to cover my face.
Gone was the confident nineteen year-old. Instead, a shy pre-teen had somehow managed to take over my body. Maybe it was being with a group of new people I didn’t know very well or the fact that Grant was eyeing me like the last piece of chocolate cake. I wasn’t sure if my body was telling me to run or get closer. I’d never been so conflicted about my feelings and I hated it. I liked straightforward. I liked knowing where I stood with people. This was unsettling.
Everyone squished in even more, and I sat precariously on the edge, trying not to touch Grant, who still hadn’t taken his eyes off of me. This of course made me blush even more. Eventually, he threw his arm around me and pulled me closer.
“Don’t want you to fall, Cupcake,” he whispered, removing his arm and placing it back on the table in front of him.
I didn’t reply. I’d suddenly swallowed sandpaper. Grant’s knee rubbed up against mine, and the butterflies in my stomach went wild. I reasoned with myself that there were six people jammed into this booth, and he wasn’t doing it on purpose. But I didn’t move and continued to believe my own lies so I wouldn’t have to move away from his touch.
A trickle of sweat ran down my back, reminding me of my dream. I shook my head as if it would clear the image.
It didn’t.
“Do you want something to drink?” Grant leaned over and whispered in my ear.
His silky voice almost melted all of my resolve, and I clutched at my purse in order to resist touching him. I couldn’t find my voice, so I nodded yes. I started to stand to get out of the booth, but he placed his hand on my wrist to stop me. My entire arm tingled from the touch, like when I slept funny and had pins and needles when I woke up.
“Don’t move,” he whispered again, and then raised his right hand to motion to the bartender. “What would you like?”
I couldn’t think of words. The only thing I seemed to be able to focus on was his hand still covering mine, and his knee still against my own.
“Jillian?” he asked again, bringing me back to reality.
“Just a Coke. Thanks.”
The bartender hadn’t seen his first attempt, so Grant whistled, using two fingers, and called the order out. The bartender brought it right away. I took a giant gulp, hoping to dislodge the lump in my throat and regain any ability to speak like a normal human being.
Grant chuckled as a dribble of Coke ran down my chin and removed his hand from my wrist to give me a napkin. My hand felt cold without his touch, and I wanted it back.
“So, Jillian, have you ever bowled before?” a girl I recognized from the accounting department asked. It reminded me that we were not alone at this booth, and an embarrassed flush rose to my cheeks.
“Yeah, a few times when I was a kid. It’s been years though. I hope I don’t hurt y’alls record tonight or anything.” I played with the straw in my cup to keep my hands occupied.
“Nah,” Grant reassured me. I turned to him when he spoke, and saw the slightest amount of longing in his eyes. Or maybe it was only my own reflected back at me. “We only play for fun. We’ve had the worst record in the league for two years running. You could score negative tonight and it wouldn’t hurt us any.”
“Oh please, Grant,” the girl spoke up. “You haven’t been to a league night in over two months. I’m surprised you could grace us with your presence tonight. What, you got tired of living like a shut-in?”
Grant’s jaw tightened, and there was a slight twitch of his pierced eyebrow. “I’ve been busy with school, Denise. You know, finishing my Masters? But you wouldn’t know anything about that, what with you dropping out and getting your GED and all.”
“Hey! I only did that because I went to visit my aunt in Colorado for a few months. She was sick. I had to take care of her.”
Grant rolled his eyes, but ignored her, taking another swig of beer instead. Tonya, however, had no issues with calling her out. “If by taking care of your aunt, you really mean you were pregnant and gave the baby up while we were all at prom, then sure.”
By the look on Denise’s face, I thought she was going to punch Tonya. I needed to say something before it escalated.
“Oh, well, it’s a relief I won’t be bringin’ y’alls record down any. What time do we start?”
Nobody replied right away, making me more nervous. My knee was bouncing up and down with nervous apprehension, and I needed to get up and moving to release some of it. Plus, being this close to Grant was making it really hard to remember Christian.
Grant answered in a low voice, meant only for me. “In a half hour or so. We’re usually the last team to bowl ‘cause they know we don’t care about the score.”
When the waiter brought over a big plate of nachos, the rest of the table returned to normal conversation, and we both breathed in relief as we stared at each other. Grant paused for a second, hesitating.
Finally, he reached up and oh-so-slowly tucked a loose curl behind my ear. His rough, calloused fingers felt warm against my damp skin where he brushed it. I couldn’t take my eyes off him, and my heart started to race. I could see his jaw tighten, like he wanted to say or do something else, but he didn’t move for several moments.
The laughter, clinking of glasses, and music from the juke box faded away. I could only hear the whooshing of my own heartbeat. I swallowed hard. Grant’s eyes lowered to watch the movement of my neck, and I imagined what it would be like for him to kiss me there like in my dream. To trace the line from my jaw with his finger or tongue down to my clavicle, dipping into that tiny hollow.
I forgot to breathe.
My leg grazed his, with just the tiniest amount of friction. I didn’t take my eyes off him, and I could see his own widen almost imperceptibly. His hand slipped under the table next to mine, hovering. He never touched me. I could feel the heat from his hand like a furnace. He was waiting for permission, a sign that I wanted and accepted his touch. My hands stayed glued to the seat beside me, but I lifted up onto the balls of my feet, causing my knee to bump into his awaiting hand.
It took but seconds for his large, strong hand to clasp the top of my leg, the pad of his thumb brushing along the soft skin inside my thigh. I looked around the table, but everyone was deep in their own conversations, and no one was paying us any attention.
Neither his hand nor my leg moved for a long time. Just the tiny swipes of his thumb, causing my breath to hitch. We didn’t look at each other as to not draw attention. He chatted casually with people at the table, while I was drawn tighter than a bow.
Finally, after an excruciatingly long time, he began to move his fingers. He ran his thumb in tiny circles on the inside of my thigh as his fingers brushed behind my knee, making a painstakingly slow ascent upward. One millimeter at a time.
Time stood still and the room around me blurred. He was still an inch or two below the hem of my shorts, but I felt like he was touching me at my core. Goosebumps rose along my skin, and I shivered.
Grant must have taken that as a good sign, because he began to very slowly—agonizingly slowly—inch his fingers further up my thigh. My muscles tightened in anticipation, knowing this was wrong but wanting nothing but his touch. He made his way to the hem of my tiny shorts, sliding his fingers back and forth against it. Inside my thigh. Outside my thigh. Inside. Outside. In. Out.
My vision blurred, and my eyes slid shut with pleasure. I bit my bottom lip to contain the groan that threatened to escape my lips.
Just breathe, Jillian. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. It was as if someone had run one of those sparklers you get on the Fourth of July along my skin. It crackled and burned deliciously. And the irony that I really was playing with fire was not lost on me.
I yearned for his hand to keep inching up, no longer caring that I was in public, that people could see me, or that I had a boyfriend. I needed his touch. I needed him.
“I’ve gotta use the ladies’ room.” I jumped up, almost knocking over three drinks from the table. I didn’t stop to wipe the beer that sloshed out of them. Grant’s hands fell from my leg, and he quickly put them on his lap, covering his crotch.
Oh my God! He’s hard as a rock! I dropped my purse on the seat and sprinted for the bathroom.
Once inside, I took several deep breaths in through my nose and out through my mouth. My stomach soured at the guilt.
“I should not be here. I should not be doing these things, or wanting these things,” I told myself in the mirror, splashing water on my face. “This is just a stupid, meaningless crush. What I have with Christian is real.”
I closed my eyes for a few minutes, trying to think of an excuse to leave. I knew if I did, they wouldn’t have a full team and couldn’t compete tonight. I didn’t think they’d really mind, since winning wasn’t their goal, but I still felt bad.
The door opened, and Tonya walked in. “Hey, you okay in here?”
I nodded and dried my hands with a paper towel. “Yeah, sorry. I haven’t eaten since lunch and I got a little lightheaded. Um, listen—”
“Well, snap to! It’s our turn to bowl, and I’ve been looking forward to this all week!”
I doubted the woman could bowl in a straight line, considering after three beers she could no longer walk in one, but hearing that people were depending on me made me realize I couldn’t just leave. It wouldn’t be fair to them. I’d have to suck up my feelings, keep my hands and body to myself, and deal with this stupid crush for a few hours. Then hopefully I could text with Christian for a little while later to get thoughts about Grant out of my head.
“I’ll be there in just a minute.”
Tonya nodded and walked back toward the door, but stopped. “You sure you’re okay? Was Grant bothering you? It seemed like he was making you uncomfortable. I could trade places at the table with you or something.”
I tried to give Tonya my most reassuring smile. “No, like I said, I’m just hungry. Thanks.”
Tonya shrugged and left me alone in the room. After a few more deep breaths, I headed back out to join the others.
The table had been abandoned, and I could see everyone picking out their shoes and balls. Two of the group had brought their own balls and already were setting up on the last lane. I walked over and asked the attendant for a pair of shoes in my size, then grabbed the first ball I saw, not caring it was almost double the weight I was used to. By the time I made it over to the group, I was the last to arrive.
I sat down to put on my shoes when I felt someone sit down beside me. I didn’t need to look to know it was Grant. If I couldn’t tell by the way I automatically swayed closer to him, the delicious smell—dark, musky, and something uniquely his own—would have given it away.
“Here, I brought you your drink.” Grant handed me the cup, which I noticed had been refilled with fresh ice. I set my shoe down and turned to him, scooting back on the bench slightly to keep some distance between us. I was afraid of what I might do if he touched me again.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to do that.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I simply said, “Thank you” and resumed putting on my shoes. Grant didn’t get up, but instead slouched down a little and placed his hand on the back of the seat. If I’d been sitting six inches closer, his arm would have been around me.
“Someone here order chicken nachos?” a waitress came by and asked. Grant held up two fingers indicating it was him, and the waitress sat them down in front of him. He handed her some money but didn’t dig in, or even take a bite.
Instead, he slid them toward me, not saying anything. Had he ordered these for me? Did Tonya tell him I was hungry? I couldn’t figure him out but took a few nachos anyway so I could stop my hands shaking and settle the nerves in my stomach.
A hint of a smile flickered on Grant’s face as I ate, but I kept my eyes on the game and didn’t look at him directly. It was too dangerous. Instead, I glanced up at the monitor to see when it would be my turn and saw I’d been placed at the very bottom, right below Grant. Two people still had to go before it was my turn, and no one seemed to be in a hurry.
“Hey, since we have an even number tonight, why don’t we pair up as we play, for a side bet? Losing pair gets the bar bill at the end of the night? Whadda ya say?”
Tonya’s proposal was met with a resounding yes, and we began to team up.
“I call Grant!” she yelled, practically pouring herself into his lap. He slid closer to me to avoid her fall, and she crossed her arms and stuck her bottom lip out in a pout.
“No way, Tonya. You won’t make it three rounds before you’re passed out under the table over there. Besides, I’m already teamed up with Jillian, right?”
He looked at me to confirm, hope and lust still swimming in his eyes. What was I supposed to do? If I said no, then I’d be calling him out on his fib. But if I said yes, I’d be working with him for ten rounds. Ten long rounds that would test not only my self-control but his as well.
“Yep, we’re together,” I confirmed, noting my own Freudian slip. I scooted closer to Grant and silently delighted when he replaced his arm around my back.
This was going to be a very long night.