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MICAH
All stress leftmy body after reading that email. An email I plan to print and stash in the miscellaneous file for years to come. Not that I think Janine will try to pull something in the future. More as a reminder of my idiotic past choices and how they could have ruined what continues to bloom between me and Peyton.
Nothing will ruin what I have with Peyton.
My face hurts from the smile that won’t fade. But I will take the pain and smile twice as hard. Brighten the world with my pearly teeth and endless exuberance. This pain is the best pain. And later tonight, I don’t care what we do, but we sure as fuck will celebrate.
Peyton pulls into a space behind Roar. Soon as she throws the car in park, I whip off my belt, frame her face with my hands, and kiss the hell out of her. Kiss her until we both gasp for breath. She whimpers as the kiss breaks and it only makes my smile stretch wider.
I love how I leave her wanting more. Love how difficult it will be to resist temptation all night. Most of all, I love how it leads into the best seven-plus hours of foreplay. By the time we get home, her need for me will be ravenous. Even then, I may drag it out a bit longer.
“You head in. I’ll get the mail,” I say, then smack her ass.
“Best watch yourself, Reed.” The way my last name rolls off my tongue does crazy things to my body.
“Yeah? Why’s that, hellcat?”
“You’re not the only one who likes to play games.” Her lips kick up in a devious half smile, and then she winks. “See you inside.” She disappears inside Roar and leaves me standing in the lot, bedazzled and horny.
After fetching the mail, I head inside. Peyton has parked herself behind the desk and works on all the monotonous tasks. So, I head out to the main part of the club and prep for Karaoke Night.
Time flies faster than usual and soon the rest of the staff arrives, does their prep work, and we unlock the doors for the evening. Drinks get mixed and poured. Horrible renditions of songs I love get belted out. And my favorite group of people walks through the front door.
Although karaoke had never been a favorite pastime, I love that I see Shelly and my friends more than once a week now. Love that I have a chance to sit with them and catch up more often. With my odd work hours, it hasn’t always been easy to hang out.
Before long, Shelly and Cora skip off the stage after their third song. Everyone finishes their drinks, exchanges hugs, and says they will see us Sunday.
Last call is announced and the Wednesday crowd starts to thin. A few patrons linger to slam one more glass before calling it a night. The staff shuffles around the club and rushes to complete their end-of-night duties. Minutes later, the front doors lock and we clean up faster than any previous night. One by one, the staff clocks out and heads home. In less than thirty minutes, Peyton and I do the same.
“Food from the diner near the house?” I toss out.
“Sounds good. Maybe we can grab dessert too.”
It is on the tip of my tongue to tell her she is the only dessert I want. But I resist the urge and think of what I may do with said dessert. “Yeah, sure.”
I place an order online for burgers, fries, milkshakes, and half a peanut butter pie from the diner near the house. We drive across the Bay with the windows down and the music loud. Salty air licks our skin and whips our hair. Our fingers laced over the center console and thumbs brushing the other’s hand.
This right here… this is perfect.
Some of the simplest things in life are the most notable. Like a lover’s hand in your own. Listening to them sing with the radio as you drive down the highway. The glimmer in their eye when they give you a side-glance and smile. Those small details are ones I deem most precious. I hug them close to my heart and don’t take them for granted.
Lost in thoughts of us, I miss the moment Peyton pulls into the diner parking lot. Miss her pull into a space and put the car in park. But I don’t miss her laugh when she looks over at me with raised brows and wide eyes.
“You want me to get the food?”
I break contact with her and stare out the windshield. Bright neon lights spell out open in red as the smell of fryer grease hits my nose.
“Oh. No, I got it,” I fumble over my words as I unbuckle and exit the car.
In and out of the diner in less than a minute, we head back to the house with growling stomachs. Peyton parks behind my truck and I scoop up the bags. We amble to the front door, hand in hand, without a worry in the world.
We drop down on the couch and I take the food out of the bag, depositing take-out boxes on the table. She moves beside me as she has every night for weeks. And then it hits me. A new version of contentment. The ease at which Peyton and I have fallen into this new routine. Eating dinner on the couch with our legs crossed and knees bumping. Watching movies and television shows together as she curls into my side. Kissing and groping until we land in the sheets and sweat and moan our way toward ecstasy.
And I hope to do this every night and day with her in the future. Enjoy the simple moments. Like a shared meal or making breakfast together. Merge our lives. Become something bigger than who we are individually. Discover a new way to exist together. Find a happiness no one can dull. A happiness brighter than any star in the galaxy.
I finish my burger, set my empty take-out box on the table beside hers, hit pause on the show, then pull her onto my lap and hug her close. Peyton combs her fingers through my hair as I tip my head back and close my eyes. Being like this with her—vulnerable and more myself than ever—is the most freeing moment in my life.
Yes, I want to tear her clothes off and taste every inch of her right now. But the intimacy in this moment—her fingers lazy in my hair, eyes heating my skin, her coconut mint scent in the air, breath inches from my lips—I want it just as bad.
Intimacy without sex is somewhat new in my life. And I never knew how amazing it could be.
Her weight shifts and the heat of her breath hits my lips a beat before our lips connect. The kiss light at first. A tender graze of soft warmth. Her fingers stop in my hair and lightly tug on the strands as the kiss takes a gradual turn. From sweet and subtle to exploratory and eager to desperate and ravenous.
My hands at her knees inch up her thighs without hurry. The inclination to map her body, memorize every peak and path and adventure it takes me on, overwhelms me. To learn every perfection and imperfection and love them equally. To chart her freckles and name them like constellations. Discover each scar and kiss away any pain they cause.
