KOA
“HAVE YOU GOT SOMEONE THERE with you?”
“Lexi, don’t do that.”
I’m not sure how I would describe Lex. We’ve been friends our whole lives. We made out a few times as teenagers, but then Danielle came along and started leading me around by my dick, and we all know how that ended.
After the accident, Lexi would come over and keep me company whenever she was home from college, and eventually, we started hooking up. The band began to make it big, and we drifted apart, but it’s remained a casual thing on and off over the years. She works as a makeup artist on location all over the world and usually calls whenever she’s nearby.
Last time I saw her was around two months ago, just before she headed off to Europe to work on some HBO series.
“What? Ask you a simple question?”
“Yeah. That’s not what we do. Not what we are.”
“What are we exactly, Koa?”
This was the third time Lexi has asked me this question. It’d been good with her for years. No questions. She never said a word when I married Lucy, wished me well and dropped off my radar. Not sure how she heard about our divorce, but as soon as it was finalised, she got back in touch, and at first, it was exactly as it was before. Casual. The last few times I’d seen her, though, I sensed a change. She’d spoken about moving back home, buying a place, and settling down. I’d been there and done that. It hadn’t worked out for me. Either time.
I wasn’t ever gonna even attempt to go there again, and Lexi knew this.
“I’m gonna hang up now.”
“No, don’t, please. I’m sorry. I’ve had a few wines.” Silence and then, “Who is she?”
Who is she? I’ve no fucking clue. A gorgeous English woman, who’s soft, curvy, covered in tattoos, has pink and purple hair, says a lot of strange things that I don’t understand, and can deliver a mean knee or foot to the balls that’s capable of incapacitating any man.
“No one you know.”
“Is it serious?”
I look towards the living room as I lean back against the kitchen counter. I’ve toed off my boots, pulled on my sweatpants, wrapped the blanket around my shoulders and am finally warm again.
“It’s...it’s complicated.”
“Complicated? The one thing you’ve never wanted. Especially from me.”
“Lexi.”
“Fuck you, Koa.”
She ends the call.
I finish my drink, refill my glass, and head back to where I left Gracie on the sofa, feeling like I’m losing my fucking mind.
She’s standing, about to exit the room I think, and stops mid-stride when she sees me.
“Night, Koa.”
What the fuck?
I hook my arm around her waist and pull her into me as she passes.
“Where the fuck you goin’, Essex?”
She looks at me briefly and then moves her gaze up and over my shoulder and then down to my chest. Her eyes are everywhere except where I want them to be, which is on mine.
“Bed. I’m tired. Got a bit of a headache and my arm hurts.”
“You pissed at me?”
I hook my middle two fingers under her chin and tilt her head so that she has to look at me.
“I’m not pissed at you. I’m disappointed with myself, but not pissed at you.”
“Why?”
Her face is still angled towards me, but her eyes are again not meeting mine. A mild sense of panic starts to build in my chest, and I don’t know why.
“Things got out of hand earlier. That...what happened between us...that shouldn’t have happened, and I’m sorry. If it’s gonna make things awkward, I’ll move to a motel.”
I want her to look at me, but she continues to deliberately avoid eye contact.
“No, you won’t. Why would it be awkward? We talked about this. Nothing complicated, no strings, right?” My voice takes on an almost encouraging edge as I try to convince her not to back out.
“Yeah, we did. But now that I’ve had a moment to think, I can’t do it. I’ve never done it, it’s just not in me.”
“You don’t even wanna try?” The panic’s building and my words don’t hide the fact when they rush out fast and accusatory. It’s wrong to make her feel pressured, I know this, and it’s not something I’ve ever done to a woman before.
“No. I don’t.”
“Is it because of the call I just took? Because if that’s it, it was nothing.”
Her eyes finally meet mine.
And I wish they hadn’t.
“It was nothing? So, Lexi isn’t one of your casual, no-strings fucks?”
My breath comes out in a whoosh, escaping through both my nose and mouth. My thoughts race to come up with an answer.
I don’t want her to leave the room. To go to bed alone. And it has nothing to do with my wanting to fuck her.
She’s obviously hurt, and I hate that I’m the cause. Answering my phone without checking who was calling was a dick move. Hell, answering my phone at all wasn’t one of my best ideas.
“That’s what I thought.” She turns and pulls away from me.
I respect her enough not to lie. Gracie is far from dumb and will see right through me anyway, but I can’t leave things the way they are.
“Wait, Gracie? I’m sorry. You go to bed if that’s really what you want to do, and I promise, things won’t be awkward tomorrow. Answering that call was a shitty move on my part, and I’m sorry.”
She remains perfectly still as I speak. I’m not sure if she’s still debating with herself over what to do next, or waiting for me to say more.
“Will you still come shopping with me and help pick bedroom furniture for my kids?”
It’s all I have. I’m not gonna force her into anything she’s not sure about, and I’m in no position to offer her anything more than I already have. At least this way, I get to spend the day with her tomorrow. She’s good company, and I need the help.
She turns slowly to look at me. “If that’s what you want, Koa, I’m still happy to help.”
Koa. Not Cowboy. No attempt to flirt with me. Her voice is flat, her eyes barely landing on mine.
“It is. I mean...yeah, please. I would like that. We’ll make an early start and head over to Aspen. There are some great stores out that way.”
She nods. Turns away from me again and walks towards the stairs. The robe she’s wearing is light blue, and for the first time, I notice that across the back is a silver crown and the words “Queen of Fucking Everything”. It’s so Gracie that it makes me smile.
All I can do is watch her leave, unsure of why I so badly want her to stay, or at least to ask me to join her.
Her steps halt, and she turns. My stomach drops into my balls and hope blooms for a second in my chest.
“Does she have a favourite colour, your little girl?”
I regard her for a moment. Her robe is pulled tight around her tiny waist, outlining her perfect round tits and the curve of her hips. Her hands are buried deep in the pockets at the front.
Her hair was down earlier, she must have put it up when she showered. When she showered and waited for me to join her. And now, here we are. All awkward and one-word answers.
Maybe she’s right. Tonight’s clusterfuck is for the best.
“Purple and pink. Like your hair.” I point as I mention her hair. “That’s why I said she’d love your hair and your ink.”
She gives me a small smile and another nod and turns, this time not stopping her ascent of the stairs.
I WAKE WITH MY NECK bent sideways, a dead arm, and dribble in my beard. I also have a raging fucking boner.
I open my eyes and groan as I sit up straight from where I must’ve passed out on my sofa last night.
A three-quarter empty bottle of Jim Beam sits on my coffee table, and an empty glass is wedged between my thigh and the side of the sofa, which is where I apparently dropped it. Good thing I’m not a smoker, I would’ve set myself on fire and burned the fucking house down if that had been a cigarette.
I slide my hands inside my sweats and attempt to force down the evidence of the hot dream I was having about Gracie before I woke.
I swear the little witch has cast some kind of magic spell and turned me back into the horny fifteen-year-old boy I once was.
In my dream, we were sitting right where I am now. My cock buried deep inside her as she straddled my thighs and rode me. I watched her tits bounce with the force of our actions, and her nipples continuously brushed against the hair on my chest.
I close my eyes and attempt to conjure the sight, taste, and smell of Gracie Elliott like they were in my dream, like they were for real when I almost had her last night.
I let out another groan and press the heels of my hands into each of my eyes.
I’m so fucking confused. Gracie is just so easy to be with. Yeah, it’s only been a matter of days, but I’m a grown ass man, almost forty. I know exactly what I like and what I don’t like, and I like Gracie so damn much it has me all twisted.
This is not what I need.
She is not what I need.
Not now. Not ever again.
I repeat this to myself while I shower and jerk off to images of how Gracie looked as she came apart on my hand and fingers last night.
It does nothing to ease the confusion in my head, the tightness in my chest, or the knot in my stomach.
I’m totally fucked and have no clue what I’m gonna do about it.