Chet

I took a sip of my black coffee, letting the liquid burn down my throat and land in my stomach, the energy juice making my bones jitter. I gazed across the breakfast table at my mother, whose head was buried in this morning’s new york times. I stared at the way her thin fingers clutched the mess of papers, those perfectly manicured nails. She put the paper down and took another bite of her eggs benedict. I got a good look at the bags under her eyes and the way she tried to cover it up with makeup. She looked so taken care of and yet so empty inside.

I wished I knew a way to talk to her, about anything. But we had never been a close family when my father was alive, and his death wasn’t going to be the magical glue that fixed it. “How is the tribune?” I asked, referring to the paper she edited.

She locked eyes with me, that grey stare always making me feel like she knew what I was hiding, even if I wasn’t even hiding anything. “Nothing to report. We just hired a new editor for our politics division. There’s a lot to report in Texas. Can’t complain.”

I nodded and took another bite of my breakfast, slurping the sauce off the knife.

She made a face. “Oh God, Chet. Must you act like a dog at the table?”

I rolled my eyes, shifting my gaze through the glass of this sunroom to the large, green, expansive lawn. I cocked my head to the side. Everything was so big and empty. “Anything interesting in the paper?”

Being around my mom ever since my father died was like trying to force two magnets with like charges together. There was something in between us, an elephant in the room, and my mother was determined to ignore it.

She picked up her paper again. “Heather was asking about you.”

I made a face at the mention of my childhood crush, as well as the subject of a very short, very ill-advised relationship in the summer between high school and college. “How did you even run into her?”

“She’s on the legal team for your fathers- … your company.” She cleared her throat. “I’m surprised you don’t run into her more.”

“I’m sorry, are you upset about the way I’m running the company?” I set my jaw. It was so easy for me to go from wanting to hug my mom to want to ring her neck in a matter of minutes.

“No. It’s more the way you’re running your life.”

I gulped down the rest of my coffee. “Oh please, what else is new.”

My mom ignored that. There was clearly a point she was trying to make, and she wasn’t going to let anything derail her getting there. That’s what being in a room with that woman was like. “I think you two should talk more.”

“Is there a lawsuit hanging in the air?”

My mother’s eyes went ice cold. She only broke her gaze with me to take a sip of her coffee. “I don’t find that funny.”

“Fine.”

“I just think you should think more about your future. That’s all. You and Heather had such a cute flirtation when you were kids. And now that you’re settled in this position, you should maybe consider picking that back up.”

I tried to be amused at the fact that my mother was playing matchmaker. “But I’m not settled in my position at all.”

My mother ignored that too. “Heather is so great because she’s independent. She won’t distract you from your work. She can fend for herself, and she has class.”

“Jesus. Is this you talking or her?” The belligerent campaigning made me want to hurl.

“Does it matter?”

What kind of woman tries to get a man by going through his mom? “Are you trying to set us up on a date or convince me to propose?” I asked.

She shrugged. “A little of both.”

It was a joke. Lord knew this was the last thing I wanted to do, but I wanted this conversation to end, once and for all. “What did you have in mind?”

“Why don’t you take her to the game this Sunday?”

I nodded. It was simple enough. All I had to do was invite her to sit in the box with me and done. She would hang out, have a couple of drinks. We could catch up, maybe share some fond, childhood stories and that could be that. A smile played on my lips as I thought of the possibility of simply being her friend. Maybe my mom was up playing this whole thing just to get me into action, and Heather wasn’t all that interested. It would be nice to have someone from my past to talk to.

By the time I had made it through the rest of my day, I was almost looking forward to seeing Heather again. It was only as I powered my desk-top down and started closing up my office for the day that I realized the next Sunday would be the day I was going to see Dahlia again too. The conversation we had shared when I crashed her physicals the other day was still fresh in my mind. It was evident that she was into me, but obvious that she wasn’t telling me something, too. She was holding something back, and it irritates me.

I bit my lip at the memory of her just inches away from me, her sexy, almond eyes gazing right up at me, her lips pursed in concentration as she tried to get my height down. I sunk back down in my chair, my cock hardening at the thought of those breasts in my face, the perfect, round things. I imagined reaching down and grabbing them, burying my face in them.

My cock hardened even more....

Then I thought about those lips, those delicate fingers, that deft mind of hers. I wanted to spend more time with her, wanted to find out what was going on in that head, what made her tick. By the time I was standing in my box, ten minutes before the start of the game, I wished like hell that Dahlia would walk through that door instead of Heather.

It was a clear, hot, Sunday, the afternoon sun hanging low in the sky as I made myself an old-fashioned at the small drink counter, ignoring the bartender’s confused expression. I needed to keep my hands busy.

“Chet.”

I turned around to find Heather standing in the doorway; her slender body draped in expensive-looking jeans and a white blouse. Her blond hair had been pulled back into a ponytail, a cap on her head. She licked her lipstick covered lips as she came at me, her arms open for a hug.

“Heather.”

We hugged and I wrinkled my nose at her Chanel perfume.

“It’s so nice to see you.” She smiled at me before glancing at the bartender. “G&T please.” She barely acknowledged him.

I pursed my lips. Wow. She had really ossified into something. “My mother mentioned you might say that.”

Her eyes widened, but then she erupted into laughter. “Oh really? Did she?”

I nodded at this confirmation that my mother hadn’t been lying about her enthusiasm. “How do you two even run into each other?” I asked as I took a sip of my old-fashioned.

She shrugged. “You know we always got along, Chi.” She put a hand on my shoulder.

I winced at my old nickname. “I see, you still haven’t let the straightener incident go.”

I jumped as she laughed again, grabbing her drink from the bartender and making her way to the window to overlook the field. I followed her with my drink, gazing down. The field was alive with activity, referees running across, techs checking the turf, coaches standing around, discussing this play or that, probably talking about expectations. I gazed down at the stands. The fans were still pouring in, brandishing hot dogs and nachos and beers in plastic cups. At that moment, I wondered what it would be like to be down there.

The feeling of Heather’s hand on my back took me out of it. “I’m sorry, I know you hate that.” She said, a smile on her face telling me she wasn’t sorry at all.

I glanced back down at the field, my eye searching for one person only. “I love how you insist on doing things you know I hate.”

She grabbed my chin in her hands. I clenched my hands into fists to avoid swiping her hands off. “Oh, are you still mad about us?”

I cocked my head to the side. “I don’t think about us at all.”

She frowned. “You can’t stand to show your soft side, can you?”

I rolled my eyes, all hopes of being friends again slipping away. There I was again, back to loneliness. “Didn’t do us much good, did it?”

In one quick moment, she drew my face towards hers and planted a kiss on me. Her tongue dug into my mouth. It was like she was trying to simply pick up where we had left off. I pushed her off, clearing my throat, my face turning beat red. “If you don’t behave yourself, I’ll ask you to leave.”

That’s all the acknowledgment I was going to give that ridiculous moment.

I couldn’t tell if she was disappointed by this or not, because I immediately turned my attention back on the field. In that moment, it was easy to find Dahlia. She had taken her perch along with the coaches a cute, purple umbrella pitched up, an entire case of water set up. I chuckled at the site of her. She was the mascot for water. I cocked my head to the side, wishing, more than anything, that I could fuck all of this, go down there and be with her.

I wondered what was holding me back in the first place.