Aly
On Wednesday, I’d just come in from letting Maverick pee and was changing into lounge pants and a tank when there was a heavy knock on the door.
“Who’s there?” I called through the shabby wood. No one ever popped over to see me, and I feared the worst. I wasn’t even sure what that was or meant, but all these creepy movie scenes where a stranger shows up at the door and slits some lonely woman’s throat came to mind.
“Jake.”
Now in a panic of a completely different kind, I looked down at my tank, at my braless nipples poking through the sheer fabric, and yelled, “One sec!”
I ran back into my room and pulled off the tank, shoved my boobs in a black lace bra, and threw on a navy long-sleeved T-shirt. Stepping out of the gauzy fat-girl pants, I wiggled them off my ankles and stuffed my legs into a pair of skinny jeans.
By the time I opened `the door, I was breathless and certain my mascara was running from all the sweating.
“Hey, what’s up?” I asked casually, as if Jake stopped by all the time. After all, we owned a pet together.
Jake stood in the doorway, his arm propped on the doorjamb. “I was in the neighborhood. I work right by here, and I missed Mav-man.” He stepped inside and bent down to scoop up the chocolate-brown ball of fur yipping at his feet, then kicked the door closed with his boot.
I was finally able to take in the sight in front of me. There was Jake, obviously freshly showered with his hair still wet and smelling of eucalyptus, wearing a pair of faded jeans and a T-shirt that read TEAM FIZZLE over his right pec with a muscle man curling two bowling balls.
“You like it?” he asked with a wink, noticing me eyeing his shirt.
“It’s interesting. Cute, I guess.”
“Good! Because I got one for you.” He whipped a T-shirt from his back pocket, a women’s version in lime green.
“Oh, thanks. It’s like Christmas come early with you. First a puppy, now a T-shirt.”
“I’m full of surprises, isn’t that right, Mav-man?” He rubbed his knuckles over the dog’s forehead, and the puppy’s tail went ballistic.
Hey, if I were a dog, my tail would be wagging too.
“The gym plays in this cosmic bowling league. It was all part of Camper’s plan . . . oh shit, I didn’t mean to bring her up. Anyway, she was in charge of marketing up until recently, and she had this big idea to boost company morale. In reality, it was probably another way to get her claws in me another two nights a month.”
“And this has to do with you being in the neighborhood how?”
“Because you’re on the team now. Camper’s gone and we need an extra player, so you’re it!”
I shook my head, worrying my bottom lip with my teeth. “I don’t bowl. I’ve never even done it, Jake.” We didn’t have time for entertainment like that when I was growing up, and I was never invited to the bowling parties of the kids whose houses my mom cleaned.
“It’s easy,” he said, dismissing my concerns. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
He set Maverick down on the floor and tucked the shirt back into his pocket. Then he came behind me, wrapped his left arm around my waist and brought his right under mine, pulling it back. He simulated me swinging back a ball and then swung our right arms in the air, making a whooshing sound as we pretended to let the ball go.
“You’re in good hands,” he said softly. His breath lingered at the back of my neck, and I felt his lips lightly brush below my ear.
“I was literally in comfy clothes when you came to the door,” I said over my shoulder, “ready for a night in with my dog and the TV. I haven’t watched anything in weeks, and now you want me to go bowling?”
More murmuring tickled my neck. He was still standing behind me with his arms around me, his erection touching my lower back ever so gently. I bit my lip, trying not to push back into his hard-on.
“I’m taking you bowling,” he said firmly. “You can watch TV tomorrow.”
I swiveled in his arms and faced him, wanting to taste his lips all of a sudden. I’d never felt more alive. My senses were running on V8 engines like his Hummer, churning out hormones and desires I didn’t even know I had.
“Bowling?”
“Bowling.”
“Okay,” I said, giving in all too soon.
“Let’s go!” He ran his lips over Maverick’s fur, sending a surge of jealousy through me, and placed him in the crate. “Put this on,” he said as he tossed the T-shirt my way.
Without a second thought, I walked into my bedroom and swapped shirts, then threw my hair up into a ponytail.
When we stepped outside, I was surprised to see Jake’s hulk of a truck double-parked in the middle of the street with the blinkers on, waiting on us. “You could’ve been towed!” I told him as I climbed into the passenger seat.
“Nah, I knew I was only going to be a few minutes.” He slammed the door shut on my side and ran around the front, hopping into the driver’s seat.
I cut a sideways glance his way. “A little sure of yourself, wouldn’t you say, Jake?”
“Everyone loves to bowl. I knew you’d come.” As we rattled down my street, pockmarked with potholes, he teased, “Should I play our song?”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t you roll your eyes. That song is growing on me. After all, it was written about you.”
He pressed his finger against the radio screen and the Gin Blossoms filled the truck. Bravely, I reached out to push his hand aside and started pushing buttons, looking for something else. This vehicle was worth more than everything I owned, and I had no right to touch anything. What if I broke it?
“Oh, leave it!” Jake shouted, covering the display with his hand, blocking my way. He pushed the screen again, then snagged the volume knob and turned it up, sending some seventies funk vibrating through the truck.
“Oh yeah, now we can get ready to bowl. It’s seventies cosmic bowling, did I tell you? Strobe lights and a disco ball, and a few John Travolta lookalikes.”
“Oh God.” I groaned. I was so in over my head.
“I mean John Travolta from his Saturday Night Fever days, not recent.”
“Well, that makes me feel better.”
“What’s wrong?” He turned down the volume and glanced my way.
“I’m fine, just a bit out of my element.”
“You’re wringing your hands like you’re going to your death.” He said it with a pained look on his face, the small crinkles next to his eyes not happy this time, but sad.
“No . . . no . . . nothing like that. I just don’t get out much, and I feel like you’re showing me the world just with sushi and bowling.”
“Good! Well there’s more to show you, babe. Sushi and bowling are just the beginning.”
My heart melted, turning to liquid butter with those few words. Just the beginning.
Once we’d parked in the lot for the bowling lanes, Jake opened my door and took my hand, spinning me under his arm before dipping me. “Ready to bowl seventies-style?”
Nodding, I put on my game face. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
I wasn’t at all prepared for what I’d find inside the bowling alley. A disco ball did, in fact, hang from the ceiling, shooting prisms of color everywhere. A DJ was set up in the corner with oversized headphones covering his ears, spinning vintage Donna Summer into the air.
I closed my eyes and let the familiar music wash over me. Suddenly, I was a young girl at home, my mom playing this album on our old record player, dancing as she dusted her way around our small dining room. “Someone left my cake out in the rain . . . ”
A big, warm hand ran down my back and wandered up again, then tugged on my ponytail, knocking me out of my trance. “Still good?” Jake asked.
“Yep. This music reminds me so much of my mom. She loved everything from back then. The men in their polyester leisure suits, Diana Ross and Donna Summer, and the Bee Gees. Oh God, the Bee Gees. How could I forget we used to dance to this music while cleaning?” I felt a bittersweet smile tugging at my face.
“You okay?” Jake caressed my arm, grabbing my attention.
“Yeah.” I swallowed, then met his eyes. “My mom has dementia. She doesn’t remember much, and I only hope I don’t forget any of it.”
“Well, listening to music is a good way to do that. Sounds to me like you’re gonna love tonight.”
He grabbed my hand and led me to the shoe rental. After procuring the correct sizes and swapping them for our street shoes, we made our way to the Team Fizzle lanes, where Jake introduced me to everyone.
His team was split into two groups of four, eight people in total. There were five guys and three women, including me. Two of the men were trainers and even bigger than Jake. The other women were front-desk greeters, and the last two men were sales staff. Fizzle was clearly a bigger operation than I imagined, and the people here obviously adored Jake.
But there was something slightly off. Jake seemed to give so affectionately to his staff, but whenever they complimented him, he silently shrugged it off, seeming uncomfortable. We were having too much fun for me to slip into analyze mode, so I tucked the impression away to pull out later. Not willing to be pulled completely outside my comfort zone, I drank beer while the others drank something called Moscow Mules in iced copper mugs, and we all danced between rounds of bowling.
When the Bee Gees came on, Jake grabbed me in his arms, literally tossing me up in the air and then catching me. “How’d you like that, Legs?” he teased, swinging me from side to side, then dipping me like earlier. But this time, he placed a quick kiss on my earlobe afterward.
Sadly, my balls were drawn to the gutters, but Jake kept knocking all his pins down, making up for his sorry excuse of a partner. My cheeks hurt from grinning so much when we finally said good night to everyone.
I leaned my head back into the plush leather as Jake drove me home. “It was a good night, thanks,” I murmured.
Half of me was asleep, but the other half buzzed with some unidentifiable lust. Thanks to two beers, I was looser than usual, less stressed and not as OCD. When I met Jake in jail, I’d never imagined him to have this fun side. Of course, he was all flirty and seductive despite being behind bars, but there was something pensive, almost sullen, about his mood, and it seemed to follow him everywhere.
Even when I ran into him at the bar at Roman’s with Camper, there was a touch of melancholy I couldn’t put my finger on. But tonight was different. He was looser, happier, more easygoing, and I loved it.
Yet as we neared my place, some of the tension seeped back in. His face was pulled a slight bit taut, and I watched his hand white-knuckle the steering wheel. We made our way toward my neighborhood, the streets littered with college kids swaying and laughing, but when we reached my building, Jake drove right past it.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I’m looking for a parking spot.”
“Oh.”
“I thought I’d help you take Maverick out. It’s late, after midnight, and I don’t want you wandering the streets.”
“Oh.” What the heck was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I form a simple sentence? “Um, I go out at night here all the time. Really, I’m fine.”
“Not when I’m here, you don’t,” he murmured as he navigated the truck into a spot a block away from my place.
I opened my door before he could get there, but as soon as I stepped out, he wrapped his hand around my elbow and guided me to the sidewalk.
A group of rowdy guys wearing matching fraternity sweatshirts stumbled out of a building. “Hey! You two havin’ fun?” they called out, obviously drunk, barely able to put one foot in front of the other.
“Take it easy, guys,” Jake warned.
“Okay, big guy, we’re jus’ asking,” one of them slurred.
“Well, ask someone else,” Jake said firmly, and hurried me up the steps to my building. At my door, he took my key and the lead with opening it up, then turned to me. “Why don’t you stay up here and I can let the little guy do his thing?”
“Jake, this is my home, remember? We had this talk. I’m going.” I tossed my purse on the table and opened the crate, picking up Maverick and nuzzling him to my face as I whispered sweet nothings in his floppy ear.
“Come on.” Clearly Jake was back to Mr. I’m-In-Charge. He leashed up the dog and held the door open, locking it behind us. We strolled the other direction this time, away from where the drunken dudes were, and let Maverick do his business.
“I can take it from here,” I announced when we made it back to my steps.
“No such luck,” Jake whispered into my ear, then tucked a loose piece of hair back into my ponytail.
We walked in silence back to my door, Jake’s hand burning an imprint on my back, even though he was barely touching me. For the second time, he took my key and opened the door, letting the puppy loose to scurry to the corner and flop down on the rug.
“Aly.” He seized the back of my neck and pulled my lips close, almost touching his but not quite. “You don’t have to be so tough.” With each word, his lips brushed along mine, his voice a low mumble, yet reverberating throughout the room.
“I am that way,” I murmured back. “Tough.”
“You don’t have to be with me.”
I didn’t have a chance to respond as Jake’s lips landed directly on me this time. We were kissing as we walked backward until my back landed against the far wall. Jake grasped my ponytail and tugged my head back just a little, adding a tiny bit of exquisite pressure.
If you’d asked me a week ago if I thought pain could be pleasurable, I would have been adamant the answer was no. But not now, because this tiny bit of pain was delicious. Pulling back my head exposed my neck, and Jake tore his mouth away and ran his tongue all the way down my face, over my jaw and straight to my clavicle. He sucked on a spot I hadn’t realized was so sensitive as he moaned, “Aly-cat.”
My hands seemed to have a mind of their own as they slipped under his T-shirt. Up the wide expanse of his back they went, fingering each of his well-defined muscles that rippled like waves under my touch. When his thumb ran along the bottom seam of the lime-green TEAM FIZZLE T-shirt, tickling my abdomen, I tried to suck in my belly, to make it feel more muscular like the bodies he was probably used to groping.
“Stop, I like it,” he told me as his thumb continued to map my stomach. “Stop doing that.”
“Jake, wait,” I said breathlessly, and he froze. “It’s too much. I’m not ready for this. You being here, your hand up my shirt after just showing up.”
He cleared his throat and reached down to adjust himself in his pants. “I know. I’ve got to stop. I don’t want to, but I will.”
“If it makes you feel any better,” I said with a sad smile, “I don’t want to either. But this just isn’t me.”
He planted a kiss on my cheek before granting me a sneaky, gorgeous smirk. “Me either. I usually don’t stop, but with you I think waiting is going to be worth it.”
No longer melted butter, I was now full-on dripping off the plate and onto the floor butter.
“Good night. Thanks for a great time,” I told him with a smile.
“It was fun, but next time, I’m keeping you to myself. Good night, Legs.” Another kiss on the cheek, a wink and one more smirk, and he was out the door.