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He hated the airport.
All these people everywhere, it was so loud, he couldn't even think straight. He had been staring at his cup for the past ten minutes, playing out the last conversation he had with his coach when he felt it. The stirring that had long since been dormant, some deep part of him that made his stomach clench.
Fuck, it can’t be, can it?
He felt it the second she walked into the bar, it was like the air suddenly shifted, drawing his attention to her like a magnet. After all these years, he can still sense her presence. He honestly thought this childhood infatuation had run its course. He hadn't seen her in years, but man had those years been generous to her. She filled that dress up in all the right places, his eyes following the sway of her hips, simultaneously cursing and thanking the hoodie she wrapped around her waist for blocking his view. All that creamy flesh on display and all he wanted to do was touch it.
Leaning back in his chair, legs stretched out before him, he watches her, just like he did his entire adolescence. He watches as she approaches the bartender, giving him a flirty smile, and orders a Screwdriver, which she then downs pretty quickly, too quickly. Something happened.
What have you been up to, beautiful girl? Who put that look on your face?
He could see it in her red-rimmed eyes, her pink nose, and that firm posture in her shoulders. She could smile all she wanted, but he knew something was wrong. She orders another drink, shifting her long hair over one shoulder while she rummages for something in her backpack. She pulls out a worn paperback. A baseball cap sits atop her head, shadowing her beautiful face.
Always reading. He muses.
He remembers swiping one of her books when he was fourteen. He read through it in one sitting, in hiding, he knew he shouldn't have been reading it, the half-naked couple on the cover really tipping him off as being ‘inappropriate for young readers.’ That didn't stop him, though. He thought about that damn book for weeks after he slipped it back into her bag.
Settling in her seat, Melody opens up her current read, diving right in. He watches her, stealing these moments for himself, noticing the subtle changes in her posture as she relaxes into the book. He can't make out what she is reading, but he can only guess that it's a romance as he watches a ghost of a smile appear on her lips, her hand coming up to touch her chest, and then the blush that creeps over her skin.
She must have gotten to a good part.
“Fuck it.” Graham mutters as he pushes out of his chair, empty glass in hand. He approaches the bar with confidence. Standing right by Melody’s side, a little closer than should have been appropriate for strangers.
Close enough that he could see that the freckles on her shoulders had deepened in color and that some of those freckles had spread gracefully over her chest. He can also see down her dress, the tops of her breasts drawing him in. She didn't even notice his approach, her attention solely focused on the words on those pages.
What would it feel like to have that attention fixed solely on him?
God, she even smells the same, vanilla and coconut. That scent still does things to his body that he would rather not think about in a crowded bar.
He clears his throat, dragging his bar stool along the floor a little louder than necessary, trying to get her attention.
“At the risk of sounding cliche, can I buy you a drink?” He forces his brain and body to still, willing his hands to sit firmly atop the bar as he leans his body towards her.
Finally, that attention shifts to him and it’s electric, he can feel her gaze on him like a caress as it sweeps over his body appreciatively. Her cheeks staining pink when she finally met his gaze, her eyes going wide at the realization that she had been caught checking out a stranger. Those gorgeous swirls of green and blue threatened to swallow him whole. Satisfaction washes over him. He flashes her a smug smile.
How long had he waited to have her eyes on him, looking at him with the same hunger he always had for her?
“I don’t know, can you?” She pauses, pulling her cap lower on her face in embarrassment. “Oh my god, I did not just say that did I? I totally did, I’m sorry, I’m a teacher. It just comes with the territory, I guess.” She squirms in her seat. “You know, like when the kids ask, Miss, can I go to the bathroom, and then you say, ‘I don’t know if you CAN, but you MAY go… Shit, please buy me a drink so I can stop talking.”
God, she is gorgeous. This was a good look on her, face flushed and smiling, it seemed to have chased away any remaining sadness or hurt she had been carrying.
He turns to the bartender, signaling another sparkling water refill for himself and a Screwdriver for Melody. She closes her book. The very same book he had snatched from the coffee table six years ago. Graham quirks an eyebrow up.
“How’s the book?”He needs to keep her engaged. To keep her attention on him. Even if just for a few more minutes.
She looks confused at first, glancing down at her book, then back at him. Seemingly resigned to her embarrassment, she doubles down.
“Phenomenal! Thanks for asking!” Then, in a sultry whisper, she leans in, giving him an eyeful of cleavage, and adds, “Want me to read you my favorite part?”
Um, fuck yes, he did. He wanted to know what her favorite parts were, to hear her voice reading all those naughty things. He wanted to know what she liked, what made her heart race and her body tighten with a need for release.
Well, shit, she doesn't remember me. She has absolutely no idea who I am.
There was no way she would be so forward with him if she knew. Graham has an opportunity here, one he refused to miss out on.
Melody
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