Back to myself, the woman I know and am comfortable with. I step through the glass doors of my office building, impeccably dressed in a maroon skirt with a slight flare just above the knee, white blouse, fitted jacket, subtle makeup, my standard five-inch stilettos, and not a hair out of place. I want to sigh at the feeling of safety, retreated behind my armor. This is my comfort zone.
I walk swiftly to the elevator, my heels clacking on the cold, marble floor. Every tap reminding me that Victoria, the Ice Queen, is back. I’ve left the messy, blubbering, vulnerable Tori back at Cha—that place I was last night. I’m not going to think about it, about him. Get it together Tor—Victoria.
In the elevator, I’m standing amongst a couple of first year associates from my firm, who are casting me curious glances, and one of the two girls even opens her mouth to speak to me. I lift a single brow and give them a frigid stare, effectively shutting her up before she can say anything. Great, Cha—that guy from yesterday, undermined the persona I’ve been cultivating for five damn years. Jackass. A sliver of guilt at my thoughts weasels its way into my chest, remembering how he was so sweet last night, not giving up on me, nor freaking out when I fell apart.
Whatever.
The ping of the elevator startles me and I step onto the plush, gray carpet, and give Janice, the receptionist, a nod. Her eyes are glued to me, almost like she is searching for something, I freeze her out like I did the associates, and she quickly turns back to her desk. This is going to be exhausting.
Stacey is at her desk, tapping away on her computer. Her head lifts as though she sensed I was near. She smiles and stands, extending a mug of coffee to me, stopping me dead in my tracks. Stacey doesn’t smile at me. She doesn’t bring me coffee. What the fuck? Warmth seeps through the subzero aura I’ve put up. A trickle of something…fuzzy? I’m thrown off kilter a little, so I simply nod, take the coffee and step to the door of my office. Before I disappear inside, I turn back and stretch the unused muscles of my face into a small smile of thanks. Stacey’s smile grows, her face lighting up, and it’s the first time I notice that she’s really a very pretty girl, with her shoulder length, honey brown hair, expressive green eyes, and curvy figure. At the sight of her elation, the fuzzy feeling tickles my throat a little, so I continue on into my office.
My office is more my home than my apartment. There aren’t any personal photos, however there are multitudes of awards scattered among the walls and shelves. This place is my haven, where I rule in solitary, but not alone. Lowering myself into the ridiculously comfortable desk chair, I get to work. I have tons of catchup to do from my early leave yesterday.
I’m interrupted shortly after when Stacey softly knocks on my door and enters.
“What is it, Stacey? I’m very behind and I just got to work. Can it wait?” I keep the harshness out of my tone, but there is no mistaking my impatience.
Her step falters for a second, a look of uncertainty on her face. “Um, Ms. Larkin, it’s noon. You’ve been working for the last five hours without a break. You have a delivery and I thought maybe you’d like to order some lunch.”
I sigh, telling my inner bitch to back off, and try not to jump to conclusions in the future. “I’m sorry, Stacey.” Her eyes get wide. What the hell? I may be introverted, but it’s not like I was rude or didn’t speak to her at all in the past. Want to try that again? Because I smell bullshit. Was I that bad? Okay, new rule: aloof but present. “I misjudged the time. Thank you for being so efficient.” Robot, robot, robot. “Um, yes, please order me a salad from that place around the corner and go ahead and bring in the delivery. Um, and, thank you.”
She kicks up one side of her mouth in a secretive smile, and spins on her heel, returning to her desk. After a moment, she shuffles back in with the most beautiful bouquet of blue irises I have ever seen. They bloom up from a lovely glass vase, swirling with frosted etchings. The moment she enters, the fragrance permeates the air and the sweet smell fills my lungs. All of the oxygen rushes back out as my heart pumps wildly.
Stacey sets them on my desk, and passes me an accompanying note. She shuffles from foot to foot for a second and I can see that she really wants to stay and find out who they are from and what the note says. I open it, and tell her, “They are from Chase, the guy who dragged me out of here against my will yesterday.”
Stacey’s cheeks get pink with excitement, but that’s all I’m willing to share.
“Would you see about my lunch…please?” I tack that last word on, knowing I’m usually barking orders without thought. I don’t know why I feel the need to change these subtle things. My life is just the way I like it. See? This is why Chase is a bad influence and someone I should stay far away from.
Reluctantly, Stacey returns to her cubicle and once she is gone, the door firmly closed, I open the note and read it. The fuzzy feeling grows with each heavy beat of my heart, the warmth becoming a burn. I read it again and shake my head. He didn’t ask, he simply ordered me to have dinner with him. I should turn him down, just for that. I reach for the phone, but my hand stalls halfway there. I’m super busy, and he teaches today, I should wait until later to cancel.
I arrange the flowers on the glass coffee table in the center of my little conversation nook across the room. Twisting and turning the vase until I’m satisfied that I’ll have the best view of it from my desk. Then I get to work and don’t look at them again. Liar, liar… I don’t look at them much. Pants on fire… Ok, I glance at them every ten minutes or so, thinking of Chase, and enjoying the tickle in my chest that they bring.
After lunch I become engrossed once again, but am interrupted by the beeping of my intercom. I press the button and Stacey informs me that my mother is on hold. The warmth, the fuzz, the tickle, they all freeze, snuffed out by the bitter cold that sweeps over my body. I don’t like talking to my family. They refuse to accept my wishes, of not speaking about the past. Always forcing memories on me, pushing me to “accept” what happened and let go. I get angry and on its heels comes sadness. Chaotic emotions that I want no part of. I should have sent in that RSVP card with my regrets already, but I suppose I might as well take the call now and get it over with.
“Put her though, Stacey.” I shore up my strongest, thickest wall, preparing for the disappointment in her voice, and pick up the phone when it beeps again.
“Hello, Mother,” I answer.
“Victoria! I’m so glad you decided to come to the wedding! Danielle is ecstatic! It’s all she can talk about since we got your card!” Wait, I didn’t…
“Mother, there must be some kind—” I start.
“And a plus one!” She goes on without noticing I’d begun to speak. “Victoria, I’m so happy. I’m just so happy for my little girl. He must be very special for you to be bringing him home to a family wedding. I can’t tell you how excited we all are.”
Plus one? It dawns on me … I’m going to kill Stacey. My thoughts then go to Chase, and I realize this had to be a conspiracy from collaboration. They are both going to get skewered.
“I know you’re busy, darling. Always working too hard. So, you can tell me all about him this weekend.” Her voice gets thick and I fight not to bang my head down on the desk. Tears. I don’t do tears. “I’ll see you Saturday. I love you, Victoria. They would be happy that you’re moving on.” I stiffen, every muscle in my body tight. Anger emanates in waves, but before I can express my rage, she hangs up.
“Stacey!” I yell. “Get in here!” I take a few deep breaths, trying to calm myself.
She enters timidly, her eyes wary. “Is everything, okay?”
“What the hell were you thinking sending in that RSVP card accepting, and with a plus one?” My voice is getting progressively louder, and when I reach a full yell, she flinches.
“Chase marked it. I figured you had discussed it beforehand.”
She’s wringing her hands in front of her, and I’m not sure if she is making an excuse or not. Either way it’s done now, and she is the best assistant I’ve ever had, so it’s not like I’m going to fire her.
“Stacey, lets be very clear, you will always check with me before dealing with anything personal.” She nods, and tears are brimming in her eyes, “Now, go back to work, and we’ll forget this happened.” She sags in relief and beats a hasty retreat, back to her desk.
Now, as for that scheming, overly confident, obnoxiously determined tool. I snatch up my cell and scroll to his number, but before I hit call, I decide this needs to be dealt with in person. I need to cut things off, once and for all.
It’s five minutes to six when my phone buzzes, alerting me to a call from the front desk. Gary informs me that I have a guest and I tell him to send him up. It’s time he accepts the real me, so I’m inviting him into my home, the sterile, cold environment a reflection of myself. I wait by the door, checking to make sure I am completely put together, still in my work suit. The doorbell rings and I swing it open, gesturing for him to enter.
An unwelcome surge of heat spirals through me at the sight of him. He looks good, really fucking good. His jeans ride low on his hips, a loose Cubs jersey hangs off of his broad shoulders, blue and white Converse on his feet, and that damn dimple peeking out when he smiles at me. His brown eyes become even darker behind the lenses of his glasses, when he sees me. Before I can say anything, he snakes a hand around my waist, yanking me into his hard chest, and blowing my mind with the best hello kiss I’ve ever had.
When he finally releases my lips, I’m in a daze again, and I can barely remember my name. He stands back and examines my clothes with a frown. I immediately miss the dimple.
“I specifically told you to wear jeans, Tori.” His words admonish, but there is no real censure in his tone. He kisses my cheek and turns me around, a bag is suddenly dangling in front of my face, and his breath whispers in my ear. “Somehow, I knew I’d need these.” He shakes the bag a little, while placing a soft kiss on my neck. I suppress a shudder, but take the bag, and feel the movement of his lips on me as he smiles. Backing up, he lightly smacks my ass. “Go change, babe. We’ve got to get going.”
I don’t know what just happened, or how I ended up here, but I’m now unexpectedly standing in the hallway entrance to my living room, wearing a pair of skinny jeans, a red tank top, and a button down Cubs jersey over it. Chase is standing in the center of the room, looking around with a bewildered expression. Eventually, he notices me and a beautiful smile breaks out on his face. “Wow, you look spectacular.”
I don’t want it to, but pleasure at his compliment grips my heart and squeezes. I was mad, I know I was. I just can’t seem to focus enough to remember why. He strides over to me and stands right in front, feet spread, arms crossed, and a thumb under his chin, pointer finger tapping his lips. Contemplating me. “Hmmm. Just one thing to make it perfect.” Before I can react, he’s pulled all of the pins from my hair and is gently running his fingers through it, combing out the tangles. He resumes his former stance, then nods with a look of satisfaction. “Perfect.” He grabs my hand. “Let’s hit the road. First pitch is at eight and I want to feed you first.”
I stop, unmoving. His comment ringing in my ears. Did he say what I think he said? “We’re—we’re going to a Cubs’ game?” I stammer. Shards of excitement are slicing their way through the wall I thought was impenetrable. Chase grins, his eyes dancing at my reaction.
“Yep. A home game against the Cardinals.” I can’t stand still anymore, I can’t stop the delight making me fidget. I want to bounce on my toes like a kid, and scream with joy. I haven’t been to a Cubs’ game since the last time I went with my dad, when I was a kid.
I have no control over my body anymore and I launch myself at Chase, jumping up on his body, my legs and arms surrounding him. I plant a huge kiss on his mouth and then yell, “We’re going to a Cubs’ game!”
Chase starts laughing and he looks as though he’s lit up from the inside, truly reveling in my excitement.
“As much as I’m enjoying having you wrapped around me, I don’t want to miss watching you experience this date.” He slides me slowly down his body, feeling every inch. Every hard inch. Everywhere we connect, there is a spark of electricity. “Let’s get going, babe.”
I run to the closet and grab my jacket, since it gets windy and quite chilly at night games, even in the hottest months of the summer. Keys in hand, credit card and ID in my pocket, and I’m ready to roll.
He takes me to Gino’s East, an iconic pizza place in the city, where we gorge on deep dish and color all over our table cloth, laughing and enjoying each other’s company. It’s so easy to let my guard down with him, to be a small part of the girl I once was.
After we eat, we head to Wrigley Field, one of the most marvelous places on earth. It should be christened the eighth world wonder. As we walk, I realize Chase is heading through the first level and out into the infield boxes. Holy fucking shit. I could practically talk to the players in the batter’s box. Wrigley isn’t a very expensive stadium, but still. These seats are over a hundred dollars apiece, and while that probably doesn’t make much of a dent in either of our checking accounts, my dad and I would never have considered paying that when I was a kid. So, I’ve never watched a game from these seats, and I can barely contain my excitement!
I get out my program and set up my score sheet. But then, feeling eyes on me, I look up and see Chase watching me, his eyes soft and happy. “What?” I laugh. The sound is so foreign to me, it gives me a startle, but Chase’s face lights up and a huge smile graces his face.
“Nothing. Although, I got the impression before that you’d been to games.”
“I have, but not since I was maybe, sixteen or seventeen. My last game was just me and my dad, right before I had my daughter I think.” I’m musing on the time frame so I’m not paying attention to the fact that Chase has gone silent, and still. “I was excited to have the time to go with them, as a family, after graduation. I wanted to build memories with her, like I had with my dad.”
I return to setting up my scorecard, still thinking about the past. “She’d be old enough now to be keeping her own scorecard, know the players, the rules of the game, and everything. I’d make sure of it.” I giggle. “I was born a Cubs fan, and so was she.”
“Your husband, he was a fan as well?” Chase asks quietly.
“Yeah, though he was never as die hard as I am. But he thought it was cute that I was so obsessed, so he indulged me.” Images of “what if” begin to form in my mind and I feel the melancholy start descending. Not now, not when I’m so happy. I push it away and quickly change the subject. “Have you always been a Cubbie fan?” I look up and see he’s watching me more intently. Somehow I know he wants to ask me more questions about my past, but I’m done, and after a moment, I think he recognizes that. Pushing will only ruin this fabulous night.
“Yes, same as you, really; born a fan. Although, having grown up on the south side, I got no shortage of shit about it growing up.” He laughs and the deep rumble has a magnetism that creates a pull between our bodies. That sound must make every female student he has have to change their panties after his class.
As batting practice finishes up, I learn that his mom and dad are older, and he’s the youngest of two. They still live on the south side, but he moved them to a little apartment halfway between his place and his older sister’s, who also still lives in the area. There is such love and affection in his tone. He is clearly still close to his family. A familiar pang springs in my chest, but I refuse to acknowledge it. But, it reminds me.
I know I’m going to have to clear the air about the wedding thing, I just can’t bring myself to do it right now. This is the best date I’ve ever been on and I don’t want to spoil it. The pang hits harder this time, like a blow to the stomach. I mean, best date other than my dates with Ben. I squeeze my eyes shut, and battle the guilt. The game starts and I let it consume my mind, forgetting the pain, guilt, and memories.
I go all in, screaming with the crowd when we score, grumbling and yelling at the ump when he makes an outrageous call. “That was clearly a strike, blue! Get your head out of your ass!” Chase laughs and grabs my hand, tugging me back into my chair, not letting go once I’m seated. I try to extricate my hand nonchalantly, but his tightens, and he throws me a stern look. To which I reply by sticking my tongue out at him.
I’m struck, completely stunned when it dawns on me that I made such a childish gesture. I don’t know who I am right now. I’m lost again, like I was last night. Someone else—a fragment of someone I used to be—but a stranger nevertheless. Chase is doubled over, laughing. When he calms, he grabs my face with both hands and thoroughly kisses me, only stopping when we get some whistles and catcalls. My face suffuses with heat, my body flushed with embarrassment, and (I’m so fucked…uh, I mean, I’m in so much trouble) arousal. Damn, he is gorgeous.
With another swift peck on the lips, he grips my hand again and turns back to the game. We got into extra innings, with the Cubs finally triumphing over the Cardinals after fourteen innings (take that, you pompous birds!), at one o’clock in the morning. The crowd is jumping and dancing around singing our victory song, “Go Cubs Go.” Chase can’t sing worth shit, but he’s so damn cute that I’m mesmerized.
As the excitement dies down, he takes my hand and leads me out through the crowd to the Wrigleyville L stop and we hop on the train back to the city. I’m still vibrating with the energy of the crowd after a win, pumped up and happy. Just…happy. I barely notice when we exit at my stop, still unaware as we enter my building, and taken by complete surprise when Chase pushes me up against a wall, sealing his mouth over mine. It is only then that I realize we are in my elevator. I don’t spend a lot of time noticing the elevator either, or the fact that Chase is still kissing me as he walks me backward down the hall, unlocks my door, and continues to feast on me once we are inside. He backs me up again, but my hip hits the small table in the entry, shooting pain down my leg and tingles all through my pelvis (not the good kind either). “Ouch!”
He instantly stops. “Are you all right?” He glances down and clocks the sharp edge of the table and winces, “Damn, baby. Sorry about that”
I rub my hip a little, trying to ease the pain. “It’s fine, it just hit the wrong spot.” I limp a few inches away and turn to toss my keys in a small glass bowl on the surface. The pile of unopened mail catches my attention. My cousin’s wedding invitation is sitting right on top.
My spine gathers some steel and I remember what it was I needed to talk about to him. I pick it up and slowly pivot, finding that Chase has plopped down on my white, leather couch, his hand stretched giving me a come hither motion. I start toward him and when he sees the hard expression on my face, his brows rise practically to his hairline, and he drops his hand.
I lower myself onto the opposite end of the couch, and toss the invitation at him.
“What the fuck were you thinking, sending an RSVP to my cousin’s wedding?” My voice rises to just below a screech, “And sending a plus one?!”