CHAPTER SEVEN

HOLLY

 

"So, uh, where did you go last night?"

I guess I should have expected I would be bombarded with that question once I had woken up the next day. I just wasn't anticipating it happening as soon as I stepped out of my room. Both Esther and Liz rushed at me, cups of hot tea in hands. I pushed past them as I walked into the living room. My groupies followed me through to the kitchen where I grabbed myself a refreshing bottle of water, which had a much lower alcohol content than I felt I needed. Grabbing a doughnut, I slumped into a chair at the table.

“So?” Esther asked as she and Liz sat in the chairs beside me. She clapped her hands together in prayer, and added, “Please tell me this story involves a handsome man.”

“Your wish is my command,” I grumbled, and began to tell the story, and it felt like just that—a story. Not something that could happen to me, and Liz seemed to agree with her mouth stretched into a dreamy smile. "And things ended before they could go too far." I hastily concluded the story about my night of sort of passion and gulped down some more water, wishing so bad that it had turned itself into wine at some point. Liz sighed, and I turned to her. “What?”

“It’s just so perfect,” she sighed again, resting her chin into the palm of her hand.

“Um, how? I made out with a stranger, and nothing came of it.” It was so much less glamorous when I thought about it that way.

Liz shrugged, still wearing her wistful smile. “No, you made a connection with a guy, and there were fireworks. That’s like something right out of a book or a movie.” The wistful smile morphed into something I interpreted as smug. “You’ll end up together, you’ll see.”

I rolled my eyes in response.

In my dreams.

“I’m just happy you took my advice and found a handsome man to sleep with,” Esther chimed in.

“Oh, my God.” I sighed heavily, covering my eyes with a hand. “I didn’t sleep with him.

“Well, maybe you didn’t, but at least you allowed yourself to have a little fun,” she pointed out and nudged me with a bony elbow. “He is handsome, right?” 

I threw my head back dramatically. “God, yes,” I groaned before laughing. “Handsome isn’t even how I’d describe him. He’s more,” I paused to sigh, “beautiful.”

Esther and I giggled together, and with the assumption that the topic had been dropped, I pushed myself from the table and prepared to stand up. That was when I noticed Liz with her chin still resting on her hand; she was glaring at me with a little smile and an accusing look in her eyes.

“What?” I asked, tilting my head to the side.

“So, you do like him?”

"What?" I repeated with exasperation. She raised her eyebrows and gave me that little telltale smile that told me she knew the deepest secrets of my soul. “I said he was attractive, Liz. I didn’t say I wanted to marry him.”

She shrugged and pulled her gaze away from me. The table was apparently more interesting. “Okay … but maybe you jumping his bones was a sign that you’re ready to, you know, move on.”

"Liz, I'm not ready. Definitely not ready. I think about Stephen too much to move on. I miss him too much to move on."

I expected maybe a bit of arguing from her, but I didn't expect for her to laugh. It was a condescending, sniffling sort of laugh. The kind that suggested she knew better than me. It was also the kind that made me want to pull her hair and run home to my mom, but I refused to stoop to that level of immaturity. So instead I asked what the hell was so funny.

"The thing is, I think you are ready and that's why subconsciously you decided to throw yourself at this guy." She watched me for a few moments, I guess waiting to see if I would explode in her face at the accusation. When I didn't so much as blink, she boldly added, "I think maybe you were hoping it would be a little more than just one little hook-up."

“Or maybe I just haven’t gotten laid in a year and a half, and Brandon is obscenely hot,” I pointed out.

“Ooh, it’s Brandon now, huh?” Esther teased.

We both ignored the old woman while Liz went on. “Please, that’s not you. You might want that to be you, but it’s not. Even if in the moment you wanted to sleep with him, there was a part of you that really wanted the … I don’t know—the companionship, I guess, of being in a relationship. I mean, you made a connection with him before you kissed him. You said you talked for hours. So, maybe you were acting more on that and not just the supposed fact that he’s hot.” 

Oh, little sister, there’s nothing “supposed” about it.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, touching my lips absentmindedly. I could still feel the coarse stubble of his facial hair raking against my skin as our lips massaged each other in a way that makes movie-goers breathless and long for something like that of their own. There had been something more there. Something that seemed to come from somewhere in my gut. Something that said it was right, and not just because it felt so damn good.

Unless it was just something I had conjured up due to being so damn vulnerable, which was certainly a possibility—no, more than a possibility.

I sighed, dropping my hand to the table and rolling my lips between my teeth, erasing the ghost of his mouth on mine. Maybe Liz was right. But maybe, instead of a boyfriend, all I needed was a companion, a friend. After all, aside from him being an incredible kisser, the most memorable part of the night was the conversation. The way he talked to me as though he had known me forever. The way he listened as though I were the only other person on the planet.

He had made me feel important. When was the last time someone had made me feel that way?

Maybe he’s exactly the friend I need. If we can move beyond our near-sex experience.

 

***

 

"’There once was a spoon named Spoony.’"

Anna was curled up on the floor at my feet, her head propped comfortably on Giraffe. She slept soundly, and thus granted me with a break that was more needed than usual.

Anna had started her day by rolling out of bed and onto the floor with a thud. I made an educated guess that the rude awakening was an indication of what the rest of our day would be like. And as luck would have it, I had been proven right shortly after, when she refused to eat anything for breakfast unless it was cake. I caved and compromised with a doughnut, hoping that she would be in a better mood once food was in her belly. But our morning had been filled with whining and a refusal to get dressed without an appropriate amount of struggle.

People don't give child care providers enough credit.

With my own book laid out on my lap, I found myself spacing out and staring blankly ahead of me at the walls of shelves, stuffed with books. Each one seemed to melt into the other as I drifted peacefully into a memory of Stephen taking me on a hunt for a book he wanted to buy for his brother’s birthday. It was such a trivial memory, painfully mundane, but those were some of my favorite moments with him. I could still see the playful smile as he leaned in to kiss me between the shelves, the way his hands slid along my arms to interlock his fingers with mine. The smile had never left his lips when he backed away, his hands still holding mine. He looked into my eyes, said, “Holly, I love you more than anything.”

Stop it, Holly.

I shook my head, tossing the memory away with a determination to keep him from plaguing my mind. I picked up my book with a determination to stop torturing myself by enjoying some dirty talk between the big-bosomed Caroline and her well-endowed stable boy. 

A large hand on my shoulder pulled me from the pages, and with a startled jolt, I turned to see Brandon kneeling next to me with two cups from the café balancing in his free hand. A pair of Ray Bans were shielding me from seeing his mesmerizing blue eyes, but that was just as well, I thought. Between the raunchiness of the book and the memory of my hands in his hair, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop myself from crossing Have Sex on a Bean Bag Chair off my Bucket List.

“Are you stalking me?” I laughed nervously, surprised by his seemingly impeccable timing. 

“Is it that obvious?” he asked with a smile. To my surprise, he handed me one of the cups. “I saw you sitting over here. Thought I’d grab you a cup of your leaf water.”

I thanked him with a playful roll of my eyes. I was touched, and took a sip from the steaming cup: lavender Earl Grey. “You remembered.”

“I have a good memory,” he said, and shoved a hand through his hair.

My eyes narrowed as a smile played on my lips. “So, uh, you’re here a lot for someone I’ve never seen before.”

“I was away for a few months, so that’s probably why you never saw me before,” Brandon said casually, sitting down with his back against the shelf behind us. He outstretched his long legs, crossing one over the other, and took the glasses off. “I probably left just as you were moving in.”

He was making himself comfortable, I realized, and I eagerly stuffed my book in my bag. “So, you’re not stalking me?”

“Nope,” he said with a slow shake of his head, and pushed a hand through his hair.

“Very convenient,” I said in a low voice before taking a sip of my tea.

“Hey.” He pointed a finger at me, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Seizing the opportunity to spend time with you does not constitute as stalking.”

“Fair enough,” I laughed, and let the topic die.

Jessie droned on with the book she had chosen about a handful of utensils on an adventure to the dishwasher. Would I have been rude to pull my book back out, I wondered as I yawned. Brandon noticed, and stifled a laugh.

“So, you love this as much as she does, huh?” He gestured towards Anna, still sleeping peacefully at my feet.

I snorted, already aware of how absurd it was that I spent forty minutes in a bean bag chair while she slept. But, I explained, it was a guaranteed nap for her and a surefire way for me to get some time to myself, even if it did mean being trapped in one spot while I listened to some of the worst stories I had ever heard.

"So, you’re saying you don’t love the classic tale of Spoony and his trusty companion Forky?”

I laughed at that, harder than was necessary, and told him a monkey could write a better story. A few of the other adults turned to shush us and we whispered our apologies before silently giggling like a couple of misbehaving kids. For another ten minutes, we sat there together, listening intently and making faces at each other at the cheesier parts.

When Story Time was adjourned, we stayed there on the area rug as the other kids and their accompanying adults fled the scene. Anna was still sleeping, and instead of waking her up as I normally would, I decided to take the time to enjoy his company.

Brandon combed a hand through his hair and completely against my will, my mind replayed a moment where I did that very act to those very strands of hair.

“So,” he said, as he pulled his legs to his chest and clasped his hands together around his knees, “I wanted to talk to you, but I really suck at crap like this. I didn’t want to make things awkward, so I’m just going to come out and say it, and we can go from there, okay?”

“Okay …” My chest tightened, and I expected the worst.

His brow was furrowed, squinting his oceanic blue eyes in frustration while my stomach practiced its cartwheels. “I don’t want to make a big deal out of it, but I did want to say I’m sorry for what happened the other night. It definitely shouldn’t have happened.”

I turned away from him, pretending to check on the sleeping Anna while my self-esteem cracked a little deeper. I mean, I didn’t think I was that horrible of a kisser, for crying out loud, and he certainly seemed to enjoy himself while it lasted.

But let’s not forget that Stephen is now gay.

“Well,” I said coldly, keeping my eyes on the rise and fall of Anna’s chest and trying not to feel too hurt by someone I hardly knew. “I’m not sure how to take that.”

Brandon turned to me then, a line forming across his forehead, and if I hadn’t known better, I would have thought someone just slapped him across the face. I felt my mission had been accomplished. “Oh, come on, Holly. You know what I mean. I was out of line. You were vulnerable, and it shouldn’t have … It should not have gone as far as it did.”

I turned to him, softening my expression. “Well, it wasn’t like I didn’t enjoy it while it lasted,” I said with a playful smile, lightening the atmosphere. “And don’t forget, I kissed you first.”

He surprised me by blushing, averting his eyes to the floor. With the opportunity presented, I allowed myself a quick glance at the soft lips I had the pleasure of enjoying just a few nights before. I smiled to myself, knowing that I was going to always remember the time I made out with a man who could have passed for the hottest member of a popular boyband.

“I remember,” he sighed, looking back at me, and that little half-smile made an appearance. He raised his cup of coffee. “Friends?”

I tapped mine against it. “Friends.”

And there it was. The nail in the coffin. I couldn’t help feeling the whole thing was a little bittersweet, in a pathetic sort of way. I barely knew him and I was actually sad that I would never kiss him again or tangle my fingers in his hair. But the conversation continued with him moving right into asking me what I was reading, and I settled into the comfortable way I could just be with him. He teased me for spending money on drugstore romance novels, and with a roll of my eyes, I thought, this is a good thing.

No, scratch that.

The best thing.