Heat Wave

I think I have some idea. I’m so fucking turned on it’s not even funny. I’m not even breathing. I’m on an edge and I’m seconds from falling.

His hand slides up the side of my tank top and brushes over my breast, sending a shower of sparks down my spine, making me tingle from head to toe.

“And I know you want me to try.”

It would be so easy to take the plunge. Throw my arms back, close my eyes, and go off the deep end. To just give in and see how that feels. To be free. To want for nothing but pleasure.

His lips tease beneath my ear before he gently takes my lobe between his teeth.

Sweet Jesus.

I can’t take much more of this.

“The other side of desire is fear,” he murmurs, his voice reaching through me like a hot knife. “The other side of fear is desire. What side controls you?”

“Fear.” I pull away, staring at him with wide eyes. An ounce of strength and common sense is rising through me and if I don’t use it now, I never will. “Because of what will happen to me if I give in to you.”

“Give in to me?” he repeats, blinking at me.

“I’ll ruin the one thing I have going for me. This job. This life here. You and I would never become anything, we never could, and so then what happens? I’ll be forced to walk away. To quit and not look back.”

He’s staring at me like I spit in his face and takes a step back. “Why the hell would I force you to walk away?”

“I’ve been down this road before. You of all people know this.”

“Veronica, you know that I’m not like that,” he says imploringly. “I would never put your job here in jeopardy, ever. No matter what happens between us.”

I’m half inclined to believe him. He sounds sincere. And yet…

He continues. “Are you serious? You think I’m that big of a wanker that I would do that?”

My mouth opens and shuts. I want to tell him I want to think the best of him. I want to tell him I don’t trust him at all. I want to tell him that he’s worth the risk and that he’s not worth the risk. I don’t know what I want. Maybe that’s the problem.

“You’re never going to forgive me, are you?” he says bitterly, shaking his head.

“For what you did to Juliet? No. And why should I? You never told me you were sorry for it. You never told me anything that would make me like you a bit better, if not understand you better. You act like nothing happened.”

“Maybe because nothing did happen,” he says this so quietly I barely hear him.

“That’s bullshit and you know it!” I yell at him just as a couple of people walk past us to their car, giving us the hairy eyeball as they go. I lower my voice. “Juliet told me and you know she did, so don’t deny it.”

“I’m not denying anything,” he says. “But I am leaving.”

He stalks off down the parking lot, a car’s headlights highlighting him from behind.

I ran away last night, tonight he’s doing the same. I suppose it’s only fair.

I contemplate going after him, but what would the point of another argument be? We’ve already been over it. It’s getting redundant. He’s never going to tell me he’s sorry for what he did and I’m never going to stop hating him over it. Maybe it’s not hatred, but it’s one of those many valid reasons why all of this is a bad idea. I know the battle between fear and desire is raging inside me, and when it comes to Logan fear is going to win each time.

I finish my beer standing there in the parking lot, watching as Logan disappears around the corner, probably to the bar next door. When I’m done, I head back inside Tahiti Nui to find Charlie, totally defeated.

Charlie is now sitting at the bar, talking to the bartender, the other girl nowhere in sight.

“Where the hell did you go?” he asks, looking me up and down as I plunk the empty beer on the counter. “I was afraid you’d been swept off your feet by some strapping young lad.”

I roll my eyes. “Not exactly. I was just talking to Logan.”

“What about?”

“Family drama, really,” I say just as the bartender informs us it’s last call. I order two shots of dark rum.

“Shots?” Charlie asks. “You know I’m driving.”

“They’re both for me,” I tell him.

“Well damn, dude. What kind of family drama is this?” he asks.

I shake my head, unsure if I should get into it or not. Honestly it isn’t Charlie’s business and it’s not really my business either. I know Logan keeps saying that and I keep arguing, but I think he’s right. I fucking hate it when he’s right.

“Double shot drama,” I tell him.

“I’ve been there,” Charlie says. “In fact that’s one reason I’m not looking forward to Thanksgiving next week. I haven’t been back in a few years and I know that my family has just been hoarding all their craziness somewhere, waiting until I arrive to unleash it all.”

“I’ll tell you one thing, if I stay here long-term I don’t see myself going back home for a long time.”

“You are staying here long-term, aren’t you?” Charlie asks.

“Yeah, I am. I mean I hope,” I tell him. “I don’t have plans to leave.”