His hand finds its way to the small of my back. My chin lifts slightly at the pleasure of his touch, but the light scratching of his nails over my shirt leaves me questioning … is he using this as an excuse to touch me because he wants to?
“Great looking couple,” older man says.
Embarrassed, I don’t make eye contact with him or Attractive Man again.
Brooks pulls me through the doors and onto the deck. Our arms rest on the railing as we look out at the river. Ducks paddle and splash, strutting across the water in perfect gliding motions. It’s cooler than it was when we were on the train, but not unbearably so, as there isn’t much of a breeze now. We seem to sip our coffee in synchrony, mini sips followed by setting the cups on the railing.
“I’m surprised you aren’t sick of coffee by now,” I tell him.
“Oh, trust me, some days I can’t stand it. Probably about as much as you can’t stand people thinking we’re a couple today.”
I smile, and decide to dig at him. “The old man didn’t think we were until you let him know otherwise.”
He rolls his eyes. Leans over the rail to look at a duck below. “Yeah, well, the guy he thought you were with seemed like a creep. Didn’t want him getting any ideas.”
A smirk spreads on my face. “He was hot. You sure you weren’t just jealous?”
He laughs, his cheeks reddening. “Well, you are gorgeous, but I don’t get jealous.”
Swoon. “Sure you don’t.”
His eyes narrow at me. “What’s that mean?”
Oh, God, I’m cracking. Dangling over a cliff, my grip slipping as I watch in terror. But as much as I need to backtrack, I can’t find the words or the will. “I don’t know...”
Suddenly, his face slackens. He’s peering closely at my eyes like they’re familiar.
“What?”
His mouth drops a bit as he leans closer. Suspicion? “It’s your eyes...”
Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. I should have gone for contacts. Without thinking, I’ve backed away from him. Turn my cursed blues to the river. “What about them?”
His fingers reach for my chin, gently guiding my face back toward his. He’s quiet for a few seconds before he smiles. Releases my face. “They’re amazing.”
“They’re just eyes,” I laugh, nervousness like sap in my words.
“No, they aren’t. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen eyes like that.”
Jesus. Maybe he did recognize them. Maybe he knows. Maybe his moment of silence was an absorption of how crazy he’d perceive me to be. He could be contemplating what to do, who to tell, where to have me committed. Fuck.
In the distance, the horn for the train sounds. Brooks hurriedly looks at his phone. “Shit! It’s about to leave. We can’t miss it.”
We abandon the coffees, and I feel like a bum for littering. He’s holding my arm, pulling me through the coffee shop, eyes fixed on us, out of the strip mall, and onto the sidewalk. His pace is a slow jog, but I still have trouble keeping up in my shoes. We move across the bridge, his hand squeezing me a bit too firmly, my heels skidding across the pavement. When the horn sounds again, he stops.
“Fuck it,” he pants.
I’d like to fuck something, I think.
“We’ll never make it if we don’t run, and you shouldn’t be running when you were sick this morning. We’ll just get a cab to my car.”
As he’s pacing the sidewalk, arranging for us to be picked up, I’m on a bench looking up the number for the train station. I ask them to hold the picture we’d taken. Say I’ll pay for it later. No way I’m letting our first photo be thrown in the trash. I’m going to keep it, masturbate to it, kiss it—all sorts of sexy things.
When our taxi finally arrives, my chat opportunity is stolen by the driver, unable to shut up about his Easter morning and how he couldn’t spend it with his precious little cherubs. Once we reach Brooks’s car and climb out, he’s nosy and asks what our plans are for the evening.
“Driving back to the ATL,” Brooks says.
“You’re not gonna wanna do that, son. There’s a bad accident going outta town. Big rig ran off a bridge. Road out’s backed up for miles.”
Brooks grips the top of the passenger door as he leans into the passenger window. “Seriously?”
The driver nods. “Best bet is find a place to stay. Sheriff said it’d be well after dark before they clear it up.”
Brooks’s fingers drum on hood of the car.
“There’s a good lodge over behind the Taco Bell, and we got a drive-in. Some movie called Cloverfield-something-or-other is playing. Scared the heebie-jeebies outta my wife.”
“They’re open on Easter?”
“Town lives off tourism. Everything is open.”
“Thanks, man.”
The driver nods to us before pulling away. Brooks looks at me, apology etched in his forehead. “Looks like we’re stuck here awhile.”
I shrug, quelling my excitement at the thought of spending two hours with him in a dark car. “Guess we’re seeing Cloverfield.”
His head shakes as he checks his phone. “Doesn’t start for a couple hours. Hopefully they’ll have the accident cleared by then.”
“Okay. What are we supposed to do until then?”
“Could drive back to the property. Explore some, if that’s okay. I didn’t check out the grounds as much as I’d have liked.”
Maybe we’ll even stick our toes in the water and wrestle like old times. Maybe he’ll kiss me again, no childhood boundaries holding us back, no slut wedged between. Just me and Brooks.
Forever.
“Think you should let the realtor know we’re here?”
We approach the back of the house. “Nah. Owners moved up north. No one will care.”
My heels sink into the damp earth as we head to the river bank, the rushing water a welcome serenade. A small dock extends into the shallow water. He walks ahead of me and steps onto it, then reaches back and grabs for my hand.
“It’s a little unstable.” He smiles.
Our hands clasp again, and once I step onto the rickety wood and am secure, he lets go. Ugh. Dating is hard. I follow him to the end, our bodies barely fitting side-by-side, our shoulders pressed together as he stares at the moving water.
My eyes trail to his, but I say nothing. His are squinted, sun illuminating them brightly just for me.
“Yeah. I think this is it.”
“Really?”
His finger points to the water. “See those fish out there?”
“No. Where?”
He moves behind me, his right hand gentle on my shoulder, left hand pointing, as his voice moves through my ear and heats my clit. “Just before the big rock in the middle.”
My eyes circle the area. I finally see two fish spring from the water before plunging back in, droplets of water shooting into the air behind them. “I saw it! Two of them.”
He moves beside me again, this time our arms both down, hands so close, yet so far. Impatient, I take action, and begin removing my shoes. We’re going to splash, we’re going to wrestle, we’re going to love.
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing? Sticking my feet in.”
He shrugs. “Okay, then.” He takes off his own, pulling off his socks, too, before sitting next to me. The water is cold, a stark contrast to the direct sun. Our feet swing through the shallow water as we take in the serene view. It’s peacefully quiet, no one in sight. No sounds other than the whispered rush of the river and the dance of my heart.
Using my hands, I scoop water, bathe it over my legs. Playfully flick what remains at Brooks.
“What was that for?”
I do it again without answering him, this time aiming for his face.
He laughs, then wipes the spray from his eyes.
“That was for not taking me home,” I smile, “and for us being stuck.”
“So, you’d rather be home right now than on this beautiful river with me, huh?” The smile on his lips quickly fades. Could it have been embarrassment over the possible veiled admission of feelings?
“No. I’m actually glad I’m with you.” The last few words come out as a whisper. We stare at each other, his eyes drifting to my mouth as I bite my lip in anticipation of something that doesn’t come, because of the cruel ring of his phone. What is it with phones being against us?
“Sorry,” he says, Deacon’s name burned on the screen. He holds a finger to his mouth as he answers, a quiet command to stay silent. “Hey, man, what’s up?” Pause. “Yeah, I’m out here right now … Well, I didn’t want to interrupt your family stuff … Oh, you did? … Sorry I missed you. I walked over to the neighbor’s to see his new pool table.” He pulls the phone from his ear and looks at the screen again. “Hey, hold on, man. Got another call. Don’t recognize the number, so let me make sure it isn’t important.” He switches over. “Hello?” Very suddenly, his eyes grow wide, and he pushes up from the dock. “Oh, okay, yeah, just uh … just out looking at some property.” He walks to the bank again and paces in front of the dock—barefoot, his eyes briefly flitting to me. “Sure. Sure. Yeah, just let me know. Hey, can I call you later? … Okay, sounds good … You, too … All right. Seeya.” He appears to switch back to Deacon. “Hey, man, you there? … Deacon?”
He shrugs, then puts the phone in his pocket, his face painted at first with something I can’t decipher. But once he sits down again, it’s so tangible I can almost smell it.
“Who was that?”
He flashes me a half-grin. “Oh, that was just my brother wanting to meet up later.”
Brother.
My blood runs cold as truth hardens in my veins.
Brother, my ass.
That was a woman.
And Brooks Jansen? Well … he’s a fucking liar.