CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

HOLLY

 

“I’m trying to understand something here. So, you had another handsome man all over you, and you didn’t sleep with him? Again?” Esther asked in disbelief. The more time I spent with her, the more I began to see that Esther was quite the naughty one back in her day. It was a wonder she had stayed with her late husband for forty-one years before he passed.

"Oh, Jesus Christ," I groaned. I looked to Liz to come to my defense, but despite her straight-laced ways, she couldn't believe it either. What kind of person did these people think I was? “I don’t need to sleep with every handsome man I meet, and it wasn’t his fault. His mother texted him.”

“Please, you could have insisted that you get in a quickie before he had to leave.” Esther eyed me over the champagne flute before downing the rest of her mimosa.

“You didn’t have any objections to begging Brandon,” Liz pointed out, spearing a pancake onto her fork. “If he had gotten a text to pick up his kid, I bet you still would have begged him.” With a mouthful of food, she added, “Not that I would’ve blamed you. I’d ignore the house burning down if it meant getting a piece of him.”

Esther nodded, jabbing her knife in Liz’s direction. “You know something? You’re absolutely right. Holly would have woken up in that handsome man’s bed if she’d had her way.”

My hand clapped over my eyes. “Okay, first of all, if you say ‘handsome man’ one more time, I’m going to lose your dentures. And second of all, just because you do something once doesn’t mean you do it again. Maybe I didn’t push it with Ben because I didn’t want to screw things up.”

I swallowed my guilt immediately for ever saying that I thought what had transpired between Brandon and me had been anything but wonderful. I would have gladly relived that moment, and not just for the physical gratification but for the sensation of aptness that I got when we were tangled in the source of my fantasies. For the reminder of being a part of something so exciting, something so scary, and something so … perfect.

My teeth bit against my bottom lip, as my inner voice yelled that kissing Ben was nice too.

"So, Brandon was a mistake, huh? That's not what it looked like when we saw you guys together,” Liz teased as she bit into a piece of bacon.

Moving back to the topic of Ben, Esther threw her hands up. "I just don't understand how you could have a strapping young man all over you and you just … let him go."

As Liz brought her glass to her lips, she replied to Esther with, “That’s what I told her, Esther. And you should see him. He’s nice. Maybe not Brandon-nice, but he’s still nice to look at. I’ve always thought he was kind of cute, but you know, I was married, so …”

I gave my sister an unnoticed sideways glance, and I could see a hint of a jealous flush. I tightened my lips, pressing them together in an attempt to keep my mouth from running as I cut up my pancakes.

“Actually,” she continued, “let me see, maybe I can get a picture of him up on Facebook.” She grabbed her phone, and after her fingers flew across the screen for a few moments, she handed the phone over to Esther. “Okay, here you go. Can you see this? Do you want me to make it bigger for you?”

Esther snatched the phone away from her. “Elizabeth, I’m old. I’m not fucking blind.” She squinted at the phone, bringing it about an inch away from her face. Liz tried to reach around to help, but Esther swatted the hand away. “I’m fine—oh, Mother of Christ, Holly. You let this get away? If you don’t want him, I’ll take him. I’ll show him what a real woman can do.” 

Groaning, I grabbed the phone from her, finding myself looking at the sweet and charming man I had spent my night with. The picture, taken outside at what looked like a backyard barbeque, showcased his more characteristic assets; his eyes namely, and the dimples of his smile. The sunlight turned his eyes a paler shade of green, a color that I could really only describe as breathtaking. I took note of his arms, on display thanks to the short-sleeved t-shirt he was wearing, and—shame on me—I couldn’t help but compare them mentally to Brandon’s; tattooed and sculpted with hard muscle, and undeniably sexy. Still, Ben’s were pleasantly average with the slightest bit of definition. I looked at his eyes and the dimples of his grin, and I couldn’t help that little prickle of regret coming from somewhere inside of me.

There was only one thing to do.

“So, how do I get in touch with him?” I asked, trying to sound casual as I handed Liz the phone. 

Seeing through my façade, Esther nodded, wagging a bony finger at me. “You’re regretting not getting a piece of that. I can see it in your eyes.” 

Liz got up to grab a pad of paper and a pen. “Well, you’re in luck,” she said, “because I have his number, and he said to call him any time.” 

Esther clapped her hands together in celebration of this grand discovery, and my nerves kicked into high gear as I took the number from Liz and grabbed my own phone. I felt the eyes of Esther and my sister burning holes through me as I swallowed my fear and dialed the number.

One ring, two rings, three …

“Hello?” 

I willed my stomach to hold down my brunch of near-expired Bisquick and mimosas. 

“Hi Ben, it’s Holly. You know, from the other night?” My voice came out trembling and panicked, and I rolled my eyes at how ridiculous I was being. 

He laughed. “You didn’t think I forgot you, did you? Did Liz give you my number? I had—yes, honey, you’re staying over Grandma’s tonight.” Did he slip that in there purposely? “Sorry. My daughter. Anyway, I was wondering if you were ever gonna call. I had given Liz my number on Facebook the other day, but ...” 

I got up from the table to escape from the two pairs of ogling eyes, and hurried to my room. I closed the door and flopped on my bed, feeling like I was back at my parents’ house, talking to my middle school crush (his name was David and he had a PlayStation before anybody else, which obviously made him the coolest).

I relished in the sensation of feeling young again.

“You there?” 

“O-oh! Sorry, I had to get out of the kitchen. Liz and my next-door neighbor were driving me insane.”

He let out a throaty chuckle that made my spine tingle. “Can I interest you in getting out of the house altogether?”

Oh God, he was smooth. I could feel his jacket under my hands and his scent in my nostrils and his taste in my mouth. I didn’t even think before I blurted out, “Yes!” I clapped my hand over my mouth, surprised by how eager I was. Either Esther was rubbing off on me too much or I was letting my hormones talk before consulting with my brain.

I heard a door close, and then he whispered, “I don’t mean to be too forward here, but I haven’t been able to think about anything else since the other night.”

Somehow, I found my voice, albeit only a fragment of what my voice actually was. It came out as a strained noise not unlike a hurt dog. “Me neither.” 

Was this really happening? Wait, what exactly was happening? Was I really planning to hook up with someone? That was certainly a first. My fingers found Camille, and they nervously tangled themselves in her soft hair.

“Kaylee!” he shouted, and I jumped, startled by the sudden noise. “I will be out in two minutes!” Back to a whisper, he grumbled, “Sorry about that again. I do love my daughter; I swear to God. Anyway, can I convince you to come over?” 

“W-what? Now?"

“If I’m being too pushy, say so. I just really …” His voice went down to a whisper I could barely hear through the phone. “Holly, I want you so bad,” he growled, bringing the skin on my arms to goosebumps. 

I had to close my eyes to let the words sink in as my face burned something fierce, and fanned myself with a nearby romance novel. He sounded pained, like his life depended on a night of wild fornication, and I found myself desperate for the same remedy.

“I want you too,” I whispered into the phone, then clapped my hand over my mouth again as Ben groaned.  

“Thank God,” he said with a relieved sigh. “Six? Does that work?” He sounded nervous beneath his sexy and vaguely confident exterior. 

I didn’t bother checking my schedule. I was free. Even if I wasn’t free, I’d make sure I was. “Six works fine.” 

He was relieved, and gave me the address. I heard pounding from his end, and before he had a chance to scold his daughter for attempting to break down the door, we hung up. Instantly my body was filled with butterflies and anticipation for what the night had in store for me, and I hoped to Christ I still remembered how to be good in bed.

 

***

 

“Now, remember to call me after. I need to know everything,” Esther said. She and Liz flanked me as I walked to the van, and I decided they were both way too involved in my life.

“That’s definitely not happening,” I replied, getting into the car.

Liz smiled like a parent sending their baby off to kindergarten. “I’m so happy for you, Holly. This is a good thing. I can feel it.”

Esther stopped me from closing the door. “Speaking of feeling things, tell me—”

“You’re both sick, you know that?” I laughed, trying to hide the jitters I was feeling. “I’ll see you later—or tomorrow?” I grimaced, not knowing where the night was going to take me, and closed the door.

Driving to his house was proving to be a difficult task, and I wondered where confident uninhibited Holly had run off to. I figured it was because I was driving towards something I hadn't had in a long time, not to mention with someone I hardly knew, and—well, what if I had forgotten? What if my skills in the way of between-the-sheets activities had faded with my love for wearing anything but yoga pants and sweatshirts?

My stomach was in thousands of knots and my thoughts weren't helping any. Alcohol would have been welcomed, but I was driving and needed all my senses intact, so tea would have to suffice.

I pulled into Reade’s parking lot, parked Ol' Rusty, and ran inside. I passed Bill with a smile and a wave, not bothering to say anything and risk being pulled into a conversation about the Thanksgiving decorations he was creating at the front counter. I hurried to the café and asked Scott for a large lavender Earl Grey, and then waited impatiently for my order to be filled.

Nervously I checked my phone, played with my hair, and just as I was about to check the little bit of makeup I had slapped on, there was a hand on my back and a kiss on my cheek. Not expecting the interruption, I quickly turned, prepared to attack my assailant, only to find myself face-to-chest with Brandon. And for the first time since meeting him, I wished to God he had been anywhere but there.

"Oh, God, it's you," I said, breathing a sigh of relief as I looked up to his face. He looked a little confused, maybe hurt, by the comment. "Sorry, I thought you were some … pervert or something."

Brandon smiled and leaned against the counter with his arms crossed over his broad chest, the leather of his jacket creaking as he moved. "Well, for you, maybe I could turn into one." I rolled my eyes in response.

Where was that attitude when I needed it?

“Scott, is my drink ready?” I asked, and he held up his pointer finger as he continued to bop his head along to the song blasting through his headphones. My fingers tapped against the barista counter impatiently, when my drumming was interrupted by Brandon’s throat clearing.

“Um, so I wanted to talk to you about something, if you’re not busy.” I looked back to him, seeing the smile had faded to give way to something much more serious. Regretfully I told him I was on my way somewhere, and his face fell. “It’s really important, Holly, and I promise it won’t take long.”

A good friend would have stayed. A good friend would have listened to him, but I wasn’t a good friend in that moment. I was a horny friend, one that was sick of being lonely in bed. “Can it wait?”

“Uh … Yeah, sure. I guess so,” he said, attempting to hide his disappointment and failing miserably. “So, um, where are you going?”

I blushed at the question. “Well, actually, I went on that date the other night—the one I told you about—and uh, I’m seeing him again.”

Brandon’s body grew rigid and his tight jaw worked from side-to-side as a hand went to run through his hair. “So, it went well, huh? You didn’t tell me that.”

“I’m not obligated to tell you everything, Brandon,” I unintentionally snapped at him.

His blue eyes widened at my tone. “Okay, that’s fine,” he replied cautiously. “Where is this guy taking you?”

My cheeks were on fire and I diverted my gaze. “Scott, can you please hurry up?”

Brandon grunted a sarcastic laugh. “Ah, say no more,” he said as he pushed himself away from the barista counter and turned to leave.

But he couldn’t just walk away, of course. He had to turn around. He had to open his mouth—his stupid, beautiful mouth. “I just hope you're not doing something stupid simply because you're lonely and want to be with someone. You’re better than that."

I spun around, an anger brewing somewhere deep within. "Better than what? You have no idea who this guy is."

"Oh, and you do?"

The hypocrisy in the scenario pained me, as my breathing escalated heavily, burning my lungs with every deep inhale. I glared right up at him with my hands firmly on my hips. "Well, I sure as hell know more about him than I knew about you when we made out." His eyes widened as his jaw locked, his face reflecting the shock he felt, and the victory pushed me further. "Hell, I probably know more about him than I currently know about you. I know what he does for a living. I know exactly where he lives. I know about his family and his—his, uh, his crockpot. What exactly do I know about you? I mean, really, Brandon. If you were going to try and talk me out of doing anything with someone, why couldn't it have been us?"

“Holly,” Brandon said in a gravelly voice, his fists clenched as he struggled to speak in a calm tone. “You don’t mean that.”

“Stop.” I thrust my hand up in front of my face, standing my ground. “You have spent the past several months opening your mouth with your opinions on how I live my life, and I’ve been listening, but now you’re going to listen to me. You’re not allowed to have an opinion about this. And you will not make me feel badly about it, just because you have chosen to be nothing more to me than some guy I sit with a couple times a week.”

My eyes dropped to the floor, unable to look at how I had made him feel with the ambush of words that I never meant to say. I noticed Scott’s headphones had been pulled down to sling around his neck, and he reluctantly handed me the cup of tea I had been waiting a thousand years for. I snatched it from him and shoved past Brandon, keeping my eyes on the floor as I hurried. My flats plodded hard against the rugs strewn throughout the store, which turned into concrete and finally asphalt as I headed to the van. But somewhere during my hurried walk, the anger I had felt dissipated and I was left with gut-retching guilt for lashing out at him.

What the hell did I just do?

I stopped and considered walking back inside, just as he came out of the store and started to walk purposefully to his car, his head hanging low.

“Brandon, wait!” I called to him, and I envisioned him ignoring me and leaving without saying anything, just like I had almost done. But the guy was unlike anybody else, and he walked towards me.

"I’m so sorry," I said as he leaned against the van. "I didn’t mean that. I don’t even know why I blew up at you like that." I laughed a little through my humiliation. "I’m just nervous about tonight, and—”

He sighed, cutting me off. "I'm sorry too." He paused, dropping his gaze to the asphalt beneath his feet. "But you did kind of mean what you said, and that’s okay.”

“No! You are so much more than just some guy, and I shouldn’t—”

“Hey,” he interrupted, turning so that he faced me. His eyes were a deep stormy blue, reflecting his mood accurately. I felt a large hand grab onto one of mine, holding tight as though he were scared to let go. “You’re right in that I made a choice, and I have to live with that.”

“What does that mean?” I asked, my voice trembling in a hoarse whisper. My eyes searched his face for any hint of an emotion I could grab onto, to decipher what he wasn’t saying.

His dark blue eyes dropped to the hand he held, and forced a smile. “It means that I hope you have a good time tonight. I hope you don’t run away from something that could make you happy.” His fingers squeezed gently around mine, his thumb stroking along my knuckles. “And I hope he doesn’t hurt you, because if he does, I can’t promise I won’t kill him.”

I decided then that I wouldn’t go to see Ben if Brandon had just said the word. I would have gladly spent the rest of the night sitting with him, doing absolutely nothing, instead of finally getting much-needed physical attention. All he had to do was tell me not to.

But he bent to kiss me on the cheek, gripping my hand all the while, and lingered for a moment before standing upright again. He took a deep breath, puffing his chest out, squeezing my hand once more before dropping it on his exhale.

“I, uh—I’ll see you soon,” he said, and walked backward for a pace or two, almost as if he were memorizing the way I looked in that moment, and he turned to hurry off to his car.

And all I could do was get back into Ol' Rusty and head over to Ben's, in hopes that I could forget another moment in Reade’s parking lot.