I try very, very hard not to think about Heath the following day. I go to the crappy across-town coffee shop instead of my regular haunt, because I know Bella will be at that one with about a million questions about where Heath and I vanished to last night. And honestly? I want to tell her. I want to tell her in detail, because she’s the sort of girl who doesn’t believe in TMI.

But…if I tell her about what happened between me and Heath last night, I’ll probably have to tell her what happened between us this morning— or what didn’t happen, at least. What isn’t going to happen at all, because he’s leaving in less than two weeks for who knows how long.

It’s fine. It was a great one night stand. There are worse things, right? There are way worse things, in fact…I smile involuntarily, thinking about the way Heath made me feel so exposed, so vulnerable…about how much I liked the feel of his body over mine.

My phone rings and I startle, flushing hard when I see it’s my mom calling. No one comes to this coffee shop— it really is the crappy one— so my ringtone bounces across walls, a thousand times louder than it needs to be.

“Hey, mom,” I say when I answer, overly cheerful in an attempt to hide the lurid thoughts that are still fading.

“Karli, thank god. Listen, did the lawyer call you?”

“No— what’s up?” I ask. She sounds panicked, but I know better than to actually be worried. My mom always sounds panicked these days.

“He says that your father is going to plea some sort of religious thing, and that your Aunt Lisa had a pastor come in and write this big fancy thing about how he’s a born-again Christian or something. The lawyer thinks that’d going to work to your father’s benefit.”

“Okay…but does that mean his chances of getting out are better, mom?”

“Well, no, the lawyer didn’t say that exactly, but it certainly sounds that way, don’t you think?”

I lean back in the freezing cold metal chair (Crappy. Coffee. Shop.). “I don’t think so. But either way, mom, maybe we ought to think about something else. Because the amount of time till his parole hearing is going to pass the same whether we dread it or love it.”

“Well…I suppose…” my mom says warily.

“Just enjoy the next two weeks. What will come will come,” I say.

“You think you’ll be able to do that?” she says doubtfully.

“Of course,” I say, and as soon as the words are out of my mouth, I cringe. How can I tell my mom to relax, to not worry about what’ll happen in two weeks, when I’m doing the exact opposite with Heath?

It’s not the same thing, of course. My mother, justified or not, is afraid for her safety. I’m afraid of being abandoned if I let myself fall any harder for a guy I barely know. But still: How can I tell her to relax and enjoy life if I can’t do the same?

I leave the coffee shop before lunch, mainly because I can’t focus on work— not with Heath running through my head and the heat of last night’s encounter running through my blood. I stop by the town’s sole Vietnamese restaurant for soup, opening my phone and debating texting him. If I’m going to enjoy the next two weeks, then I ought to shoot him a message, right? Why wait, when time is limited? Besides, he’s on leave, it’s not like he’s working.

I finally send one, typing it out quickly then all but chucking my phone down on the table, a too-intense attempt at proving to the world just how casual I felt about the whole thing.

Karli: Good workout this morning?

It’s innocuous enough, right? Just a quick question. Nothing leading. Nothing that says “I’m cool with this being a two week fling”— because I’m not, not really. But also nothing that says “I expect this to become a serious long term relationship”, because I know that’s not realistic.

It’s possible I’m way overthinking text messages.

I finish my lunch, though, and Heath still hasn’t responded. He hasn’t responded by the time I get back to my apartment, or by the time I take a shower in hopes the hot water will clear my head. He hasn’t responded by dinner, in fact, and as far as I can tell hasn’t even opened the message.

So, maybe this isn’t even going to be a two week fling. Maybe this really was just a one night stand.

I call Karli.

I tell her everything.

“What, seriously? Nine inches?” she asks, and I can practically feel her glowing over the phone.

“It was huge. Like, scary huge almost. But then is was…ugh, it was amazing.”

“Hell yeah. If someone knows how to use that kind of size, it’s gotta be. I’m so jealous!”

“I’m sorry,” I say.

“No! Don’t be sorry,” she says, sounding exasperated. “I’m just saying, if he hadn’t been totally into you, then I’d have snatched him up.”

“That’s the thing though,” I say, leaning back on my couch, tossing my feet up on the coffee table. “I thought he was into me, but I haven’t heard from him since he left this morning. I can handle just enjoying the next two weeks with no expectations— or I can try to, anyway— but I didn’t think it was just a one night stand. I thought he and I had more chemistry than that.”

“Uh, you totally did. Jack and I talked about it after you two vanished. It was obvious that you and Heath were either going to be mortal enemies or have lots and lots of sex.”

“Well. We had sex. Not lots and lots.”

“Stop being such a downer! You can’t give up this fast,” Karli says, and I hear her shuffling around. There’s a typing sound in the background.

“What are you doing?”

“Stalking. Not in that creepy your-dad way. In that acceptable way.”

“I think that’s the sort of thing someone stalking in the creepy way would say to justify it—“

“Okay, I found him on Facebook…he has his profile locked down pretty tight, though. His picture isn’t even of him, it’s some sort of SEAL pride graphic. Lemme keep looking…” She drifts off, and after another few moments of typing says “A-ha!” in a triumphant voice.

“What?” I ask.

“He isn’t on any other social media, but my brother’s friend Leo is, and Leo just posted a photo, and I can’t totally tell but I’m pretty sure that’s Heath in the background. It’s gotta be him. No one else has shoulder muscles like that.”

“Jesus, Bella, you’re almost creepy levels of good at this.”

“I know. Anyway, they’re at the Porter Bar. Want to go?”

“To the Porter? Isn’t that going to make me look like a psycho ex?”

“You can’t be an ex if it was just a one night stand,” she says, and I’m not sure if that makes the whole thing better or worse. “Come on, we’ll both go. Everyone goes to the Porter, it isn’t crazy for you to be there at the same time as him.”

She’s got a point. Sort of. The Porter is super popular here in town, since they’re the only place that serves decent beer. I’m not sure why I’m going, though. I mean, what am I going to do, stomp up to him and ask why he didn’t answer my text?

“No, no, that’s too obvious,” Bella says after she’s picked me up. I put on a cute sweater dress and boots, and dared to try winged eyeliner for the first time. I wasn’t super successful, but thankfully Bella is a makeup pro and tidied the lines for me in the car.

“Then what?”

“We’re just going to get a beer. See how he reacts. You want to know if it was a one night stand, right? Seeing him face to face— and how he reacts to you when he’s with his bros— is gonna give you an answer.”

The Porter is in a brick building that used to be some sort of furniture shop, back in the town’s early days. The decor pays homage to this; everything is leather and tidy and aged to perfection. The place smells like old wood and hops, and there are no television screens blaring at us— though there are a few vintage video games on the far wall. There are also barrels and kegs and growlers and quirky local brewery ads everywhere.

And there’s Heath. No mistaking him— he’s at the bar with the other guys, each with a massive drink of some dark, heavy looking brew. Their backs are to us, but the bartender calls out a welcome as we come in, and they all turn. Heath’s eyebrows lift slightly, but that’s the only sign that he recognizes it’s me.

“Hey, Heath!” Bella says. “I met you at the party last night, remember?”

“Yep. Hi. Hey, Karli,” Heath says.

And my heart sinks. Because his voice is calm, cool, and collected. There’s no passion in it. He isn’t happy to see me. He isn’t anything to see me— I’m just here, and he’s here, and whatever happened last night clearly isn’t pulling at him the way it’s pulling at me.

Bella realizes this just as quickly as I do. “We’re just doing a tasting until some friends get here,” she says to the bartender, and immediately pulls me over to one of the tiny pub tables. Tears are pricking at the corner of my eyes.

“Let’s just leave, okay?” I ask, because I really, really don’t want to cry in front of him.

“Fuck no. We’re not going anywhere. We’re going to sit here and have a nice time drinking teeny tiny glasses of beer, and then we’re going to have a bunch of friends meet us here so Heath can see what a fun, interesting, great person you are.”

“I don’t want to impress him, Bella. I don’t want him if he cares so little about me.”

“Impress him? Hell no! We’re going to make him sorry. Take that scarf off so your boobs show. Do it!” Bella says.

She’s a really great friend. I think.

I take the scarf off as she gets to work rallying a number of girls from the not-crappy-coffee shop-workplace to come join us, along with a few guys she knows and some of Jack’s friends. By eight o’clock, the Porter is full, and it seems like about half the crowd are people Bella called in for backup.

And by nine o’clock I’m actually having fun. A few beers down and I haven’t forgotten Heath, by any means, but I have gotten into playing old school Donkey Kong and some sort of pumpkin flavored beer. Heath and his group are still at the bar, talking, but I’m keenly aware of the fact that Heath is stealing glances at me more often than he was when I first arrived.

“Feeling better?” Bella asks, nudging me when I level up at Donkey Kong.

“Much,” I say. “Thanks.”

“No problem. If he does anything else shitty to you, by the way, I’ve got three girls on standby to help spread a rumor that his nine inches is more like four.”

I snort laugh so hard that beer goes up my nose, and Bella laughs loudly in response. “Okay, okay, I can’t let you do all the work for me,” I say with confidence I’ve only got with a handful of beers in me. “Here we go.”

I walk over to Leo, Jack’s friend and the guy who posted the picture that included Heath. I know Leo okay, but not well— we talk at parties now and again, and I think we’ve gotten brunch together once with a few other people. He’s decent looking, but a little more artsy than I like my men— wirey and tall and with ever-changing facial hair.

“Leo!” I say warmly, and hug him tightly. “I saw you earlier but couldn’t get over to say hi. What’s new?”

“Hey, Karli,” he says, a little surprised but not at all displeased. He smiles at me and I see him sneak a look at my body. It may be a sweater dress, but it’s fitted, and I know it hugs my scant curves nicely. “Nothing new with me. Well, that’s not true— been working on some ceramics stuff for the shop.”

“Oh, cool,” I say, even though I don’t think I’m totally certain what “shop” he means. “I didn’t know you’d gotten out of painting.”

“I haven’t— ceramics just pay better. People gotta have coffee mugs, you know?” he says playfully, and I laugh harder than the joke called for. Leo seems to attribute it to the bar setting, though, and grins, then waves down the bartender. He order us both another round, and I slide onto the stool next to him.

We chat for fifteen minutes, give or take, before I dare to sneak a look at Bella. She’s delighted by all this, and nods toward Heath, convincing me to glance his way. I’m not quite as thrilled as she is, though, when I see Heath’s expression. He’s staring at the bar, face hard lines, muscles tense. He doesn’t look jealous so much as furious.

But why should I care? He still hasn’t texted me back, and he could’ve come over to talk to me any time in the last two hours. I push my shoulders back and smile harder at Leo, making conversation about ceramics and the value of art and how the market is so much better in California for his type of work.

“I think I need a smoke— want to come with me?” Leo asks. Truthfully, I loathe smoking, but I do sort of want some cool air— the bar has become hot and humid with so many people inside. I nod, make a few hand signals toward Bella so she knows what’s up, and follow him out the front door. He immediately lights a hand-rolled cigarette and takes a long, steady drag of it.

“You want one?” he asks.

“No— I don’t smoke,” I say, standing a few feet away.

“Good for you,” he says, then takes another puff. He steps forward, closing the gap that I’d just intentionally left between us. “You know, we should really hang out more. Just the two of us.”

“Yeah,” I say plainly. “That’d be nice.” And…it would be? Except not the way Leo is thinking. He’s decent enough to be around, but I’m pulling teeth trying to make conversation with him— we just don’t have anything in common.

Not that I have much in common with Heath, I remind myself, and before I mean to I glance inside to see where he is. To my surprise, Heath is looking right at me, his eyes somehow weaving through the crowd to find mine on the other side of the Porter’s front window. I try to look away, but I fail— he’s got a hold on me.

“Do you know Heath well?” I ask faintly, still staring at him.

“Jack’s friend? Nah, we met yesterday. Jack had to work today and asked me to take Heath out for a good beer. Apparently he’s been stuck drinking military stock beer for ages— he’s in the SEALs.”

“Yeah, I know,” I say. Someone walks between my and Heath’s line of sight, and it frees me. I blink and look back to Leo, feeling more breathless than a long gaze should have warranted.

“Honestly? He’s sort of…frigid. Like, I can’t get him to joke around or anything. It’s like having a conversation with myself,” Leo says under his breath. “I guess I can’t blame the guy. The government sends you out to murder people, you can’t just come back and rejoin society like it’s nothing.”

“That’s a pretty harsh way to look at it,” I say, surprised.

Leo shrugs. “I guess. My point is just that it can’t be easy to go from a life where people want you dead to one where people want to grab a beer with you.”

That much is true, I agree, and I nod a little. I’m about to say something more when the door to the Porter pushes open, the hinges groaning at the speed. My eyes widen when I see Heath standing in the doorway.

“Hey, man! Heading out?” Leo asks in a pleasant voice.

“Are you?” Heath asks, and his voice is far from pleasant. It’s practically a threat.

Leo’s eyes widen in both alarm and, perhaps, a little fear. “Huh?”

“You’re going with him?” Heath asks me accusingly.

“No, I’m not, and even if I were, how’s it any of your business?” I ask tartly.

“It’s not,” Heath answers.

He turns, and I can’t believe he’s going to walk away. Just like that— like he didn’t just storm out here, like he isn’t clearly furious, like there isn’t something between us despite his lack of messaging back and my flirtation with Leo, false as it may have been.

“If you wanted it to be your business, then you should have answered me!” I call over to him, louder than I probably need to be seeing as how he’s only a few feet away.

“What? He snaps, looking over his shoulder.

“What?” Leo asks.

“You said it wasn’t a one night thing, but you didn’t message back all day. And it’s not like you were busy,” I say, waving at the Porter.

“This is so messed up,” Leo says, rolling his eyes.

“Sorry,” I say, and I sort of mean it, but I’m too wrapped up in the back and forth with Heath to put much of that meaning into my voice.

“Yeah. You two work your shit out, I’m gone,” Leo says, rolling his eyes again for good measure. He gives Heath a “your problem” look and vanishes through the Porter’s front doors. There’s a burst of warm air as the doors shut, and then it’s back to the cold fall evening.

“I told you, I’m leaving in less than two weeks. It wasn’t a one night stand, but you didn’t seem particularly interested in a short term relationship.”

“Only because I don’t think a long distance one is realistic for us,” I say.

“Then you’re not interested in the short term one!” he says.

“Then you’re saying it was a one night thing!” I snap back.

“Jesus Christ,” he snaps, grabbing his head in perhaps the biggest show of emotion I’ve seen yet. “This is what I get for wanting the girl who slammed into me with her car.”

“You. Braked. Suddenly!” I yell back— really, actually yell. I’m not honestly yelling about the car, though, and I think Heath knows that.

“And I didn’t see your message, by the way. I don’t carry my phone with me everywhere. So you can drop that,” he snaps.

“Who doesn’t carry their phone?”

“Someone who’s been deployed for a year and a half and doesn’t get many calls!”

“Oh!”

We stare at each other.

And then he lunged forward, grabs me, and kisses me. I shove away, and he allows it, which surprises me— but then I see in his eyes that he’s only allowing it because he thinks that I really want to escape him. And I don’t. I don’t want to escape Heath at all.

I grab the edge of his t-shirt and pull myself back to him. He wraps his arms around me, strong, tight, then lifts a hand to wind his fingers in the back of my hair, the pressure keeping my mouth on his. I fight against him when he licks at my closed lips, trying to slide his tongue into my mouth, but only because I want to feel him defeat me— and he does, pressing at me until my lips part and his tongue sweeps across mine hungrily.

“Come on,” he says against my face. “We’re leaving.”

“Where are we going?” I ask huskily.

He’s already leading me to his car. “We’re going to my house this time.”