I didn’t see Reid in the back seat the next week, and I didn’t bring him lunch or dinner. I missed his first show, even though Paige and Neil went. At work, I stayed mostly to myself, and on shifts we were scheduled together, we managed to avoid each other aside from shared trips to the kitchen. I caught his eyes on me only once when he’d cashed out and was ready to leave. I gave him my full attention, curious about the words that didn’t pass his lips. He left without saying them, and I let my heart sink comfortably in the disappointment. Despite all my attempts to forget him, he lingered on my mind, in my thoughts. The man had barely touched me, but every time he was near, I rattled. Even in the silence between us, my heart vibrated on edge, and deep need gnawed in my gut. I’d never in my life strongly reacted to another person the way I did Reid. It felt surreal, exhilarating, and exhausting.
After a week and a half, Reid showed up to Paige’s apartment for dinner. I was perched on the couch, earbuds in, laptop open, writing an article on Dave Matthews. “Say Goodbye” drifted through my earbuds attached to my iPod while I tried my best to completely ignore the three of them. Paige and Neil worked together in the kitchen while Reid sat on the end of the couch opposite of me, his eyes straight ahead on the TV.
Taking controlled breaths, I concentrated on the introduction, with its unpredictable bongos and pairing flute, then cranked up the volume as Dave sang a six-minute, lyrical sex poem about friends becoming lovers.
He cut his hair too short.
Since Matthews’ debut album, Under the Table and Dreaming, in 1991, the band crushed the issue of the sophomore slump and sped past it, composing consistent billboard albums and an unpredictable string of hits.
Why in the hell does he use so much soap? I’m so tempted to take a bite of Irish Spring.
South African born Matthews’ unique voice backed by the colorful contrast of guitar, bass, sax drums, and fiddle has led to a unique cult following—a much more hipster version of Jimmy Buffett’s Parrotheads.
His arm is so pale.
With last year’s solo album, Some Devil, which went platinum and earned him a Grammy with the single “Gravedigger,” Dave has managed to push past the commercial- OH FUCK ME, WHY IS REID CROWNE SO GODDAMNED SEXY?!
I miss him. Why do I miss him?
Slamming my laptop shut, I caught the attention of every eye in the apartment, including the green-tinted dark eyes I’d been missing. Plastering a fake smile on my face, I said a curt “Hi” to Reid as Paige looked over at me with a frown. “Words aren’t coming?”
Oh, I had words, too many damn words. “No. I’m going for a walk.”
“Dinner’s almost ready,” Paige said as she looked at my bare legs. I had on a solid black pair of thigh-high boy shorts and a long T-shirt that was hitched over my ass. I walked over to my duffle and pulled a pair of khaki shorts on over them. I was a total mess. My dark hair was piled on my head and held with an I-don’t-give-a-shit-if-it’s-2005 scrunchie. I managed to find that little treasure in Paige’s bathroom while I scrubbed it like the Cinderella I’d become.
At least Cinderella had a ball to look forward to.
“Just save me a plate,” I said, avoiding the watchful eyes of the beautiful bastard on the couch. “I’m not hungry.”
“Okay,” Paige said easily as I slipped through the door and practically ran to the park. Half an hour later, I was covered in the last of the July sun and was tripping over my Chucks as I burst back through the door. I walked straight to the kitchen sink to wash my face, not bothering to take inventory of who was there. Patting my face dry with a paper towel, I looked up to see Reid typing on my laptop. I kept the scream in my throat as I watched his lips twist in a slow-building smirk.
Eyes wide, I rounded the counter. “W-w-what are you doing?”
Paige chimed in from the easy chair. “I told him he could borrow it. I told him just to minimize what you were working on.”
My face flaming, I grabbed a glass from the cabinet and downed some water. He saw it. All of it.
I bit both my lips and double tapped my sister on the top of her head on the way to the bathroom, the way my mother did when she wanted us to know we were in trouble but couldn’t verbally lash us in that moment.
“What?” she said, offended, as I closed the bathroom door and stood under a cold shower. When my body temperature was back to normal, I eased back into the living room with a lowered head, relieved to find Reid was no longer there. Resuming my seat on the couch, I opened my laptop, then my document. He had commented on everything. My heart pounded as I read.
He cut his hair too short. You think? I’ll keep it longer in the future, but only for you, Grenade.
Since Matthews’ debut album, Under the Table and Dreaming, in 1991, the band crushed the issue of the sophomore slump and sped past it, composing consistent billboard albums and an unpredictable string of hits. ←Predictable facts.
Why in the hell does he use so much soap? I’m so tempted to take a bite of Irish Spring. Because I like a clean ass, and I have an extra bar for tasting, but I’m pretty sure the Surgeon General warns against it.
South African born Matthews’ unique voice backed by the colorful contrast of guitar, bass, sax drums, and fiddle has led to a unique cult following—a much more hipster version of Jimmy Buffett’s Parrotheads. ←Boring.
His arm is so pale. I’ll work on getting it tan. Anything else about my appearance that you don’t approve of?
With last year’s solo album, Some Devil, which went platinum and earned him a Grammy with the single “Gravedigger,” Dave has managed to push past the commercial- OH FUCK ME, WHY IS REID CROWNE SO GODDAMNED SEXY?! This is good news. For a minute, I was afraid my hair was too short; I was too clean and pale. And I think you’re the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. Even if you’re wearing a scrunchie.
I miss him. Why do I miss him? I’m right here, Stella.
Reid chose that moment to open the patio door, a cloud of smoke drifting in the air behind him. The lump in my throat refused to leave as I looked up at him over the top of the screen. Paige and Neil were still on the porch laughing when he closed the door behind him. Pulse skyrocketing, I stood as his hazel eyes seared into me, a question and an answer. It took three seconds to close the distance between us, two seconds to lock together like we’d been doing it our entire lives, and that last second . . . that last second when his lips devoured mine was the second I lost a piece of myself I could never get back. His kiss started deep and only delved further as I wrapped as much as I could of myself around him. Heart pounding and clit pulsing, he kissed me with pure abandon, our tongues dueling. I moaned into his mouth and he responded, clutching me tighter to him. He was hard, so incredibly hard as we devoured each other, gripping, grinding, fusing.
“Oh, God,” I breathed as he dipped and took a bite out of my neck while I clutched his back. “Reid.”
He growled as his lips drifted up, and we combusted, parting only when we heard the chair slide back on the porch. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t nearly enough. Breathless, we stared at each other, filled with need, before Reid leaned in, his breath on my neck. “I miss you, too.”
He was two strides toward the bathroom when Paige opened the door, smiling. “Hey, did you eat?”
My lips tingled from the feeling of his mouth and my neck burned with the fresh scrape of his stubble against it while I tried to hide the undeniable evidence he left. “Not yet.”
Neil took one look at me and suppressed a smile hidden in his lips as he shut the door.
He knows.
My eyes pleaded with his briefly before he winked. Relieved, I tried to act as casual as possible and microwaved my plate as Reid came out of the bathroom a minute later. He was completely cool, his demeanor unchanged as he spoke to Neil and Paige on the couch. “Thanks for dinner. See you at the show tomorrow?”
The question was for me, but he was looking at them.
Paige chimed in. “If we get off our shift early enough. Stella, want to go?”
I took a bite of my enchilada. “Yeah, sure.”
That night I tossed and turned. Heavy. I felt so heavy. I needed air, and that air was sleeping only a few buildings away. Reid said so little, and his kiss had said so much. Everything. It said everything.
I traced my lips as I replayed that kiss moment by moment until I restlessly drifted to sleep.