AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Do you see your parents often?”
“Mostly on holidays. They were always around before I left for college and through my third year, but now they are taking full advantage of their empty nest, galavanting around the world with every chance they get.”
“Ahhh, traveling is the way to go.” His brown eyes light up at the mention of travel, but he changes the subject. “So you know what I do so I can afford to take out all the girls who ask me out while I’m working.” He tacks a smirk onto the end of his statement. “Have you been working while you’re here?”
My hands fly to cover my face in embarrassment. My skin heats under them, but I pull them away before I speak. “Does that happen a lot?”
“Nahh, it was a first for me. Can’t say I didn’t like it though.” Holy shit whatever little laugh to himself he did behind his smile was the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard. It came out more like a half cough, half laugh, like he was trying to hide it, or hide what he was thinking, but couldn’t. My new goal is to get him to do that again.
Before I get more lost in my thoughts, I answer his question. “I work one or two days a week at a café near the student union. Total dream, I know. But I got enough scholarships to pay for school and housing so it’s mostly to add to my travel fund. It works for now. Do you think you’ll stay here forever, like your parents?”
“Scholarships? I like a smart woman.” He adds a wink that makes me want to roll my eyes, but I bite the corner of my lip instead. “For me, Oregon is home. It has everything I love–camping, hiking, mostly outdoor hobbies. I think even if I went somewhere else, I’d come back here in the end.”
The rest of dinner flies by, and our conversation flows better as we keep talking. He told me a little about his friends we are meeting with after dinner. When we were dipping marshmallows into the chocolate pot, he told me a story about when they went camping, and his friend Marcus’ marshmallow caught on fire, and he started flinging his stick really hard to put it out—because blowing on it would have been too easy. It flew right into the tent, burning a hole through the fabric. Apparently they were too drunk by the time they went to bed to remember the hole, and the next morning they all woke up covered in welts from all the mosquito bites. It wasn’t that funny of a story, but the way Dean became so animated, waving his hands through the air, dramatically imitating Marcus and his flaming dessert made me nearly choke on my water. After a few more similar stories, I got the impression they have all been friends for a long time, since before college at least. When I asked, he said that he met Marcus in kindergarten, and Aden only a few years after that. I’m excited to meet them.
After dinner, Dean leads me down the stairs. When I turn toward his car, he gently reaches for my wrist and tugs me down the sidewalk instead. We only walk a few blocks until we stop in front of the entrance to a bar that doesn’t have a name on the outside. It’s dark and grungy looking, but that’s the vibe in almost every bar around here–at least from what I can tell walking by them, considering I turned 21 yesterday.
After showing our IDs to the bouncer, we walk in, Dean’s hand pressing into my lower back, softly pushing me forward. A bar lines the entire left side, and we walk toward the back of a room that is much longer than it is wide, until we get to a high top table with a couple guys standing around it. Dean does a cute hand grab and bro hug with his buddies that makes me swoon a little. I think the type of friendships people have say a lot about them. He asks me what I want to drink and heads off to the bar, leaving me standing there with two dudes. Greeaaat, his reunion with his friends distracted him, and he forgot to introduce me.
Welp, now is the time to try and make a good impression I suppose.
“Heeeyyy. I’m Maci,” I say, trying to sound as cool and confident as possible. If Dean is acting so casual about this hang out with his friends, I want to come off that way too.
The guy closest to me has shoulder length, slightly frizzy, dark brown hair. He’s wearing gray jeans with a black v-neck t-shirt. He introduces himself as Marcus, and I can’t help but smile at the thought of his fiery marshmallow flying away from him. He reaches around to side hug me, and it’s surprisingly not awkward at all. I'm immediately relaxed in his presence. The other guy reaches his hand across the table, introducing himself as Aden. His dark hair is short, the facial hair he’s trying to grow is a little patchy, and he’s got on a band t-shirt of someone I’ve never heard of. He smiles at me and even though these two guys give me a totally different vibe look wise than Dean, the level of ease I feel around them is comparable, especially after hearing a few good stories about them. Dean walks over with my whiskey sour, smiles at me, and rests his hand on my lower back, not realizing he never introduced me to his friends.
It’s so chill in here. Even though it’s already 10 p.m., no one seems too drunk, everyone chatting amongst themselves while they wait for the music to start. The screech of a microphone being turned on fills the room and halts all conversation as everyone looks to the stage in unison.
“YEEEAAAAH!” Aden yells from behind me with a fist pump. I know Dean said his friend was playing tonight, but I’m not sure which one he is, or if it's all three of the guys on the small stage in the front corner of the bar. They start playing, and thankfully they aren’t bad. It seems a little reggae and a little indie. It’s not what I usually listen to, but I love live music. And the company. I look over as Dean laughs at something Marcus has said, his messy, blond hair swishing across to the other side of his forehead and his dimples coming out strong. He pulls a toothpick to the corner of his mouth and starts chewing on the end of it. He’s still grinning, currently giving his attention to his friends, but his hand is still on my back where he scratches his fingers every once in a while, letting me know he hasn’t forgotten I’m there. It sends chills up my spine every time he does. I’m already addicted to the way it feels when he touches me and find myself waiting for his hand to come back whenever he pulls away.
I try not to stare, but it’s so hard not to. This man is truly the most gorgeous creature I have ever laid eyes on–despite the fact that he still comes off a little mysterious, and I can’t tell whether his “super chill” attitude around bringing me here with his friends is a good thing or something that doesn’t phase him because he’s done it a million times.
I’m trying to simply enjoy the moment and not think too much about it, but I’m falling for this guy already. It’s so different than anything I’ve ever felt before, even with Grayson after nearly two years. It feels like there’s an electrical current pulling us together, like there are sparks flying, and I can’t quite tell if something will explode or if fireworks are going off. Am I crazy or does he feel it too?
The band continues playing for two hours. When they start packing their equipment, the boys head toward them, and I follow behind. After congratulating them on a good show, to my surprise, Dean turns and pulls me in front of him, introducing me asjustMaci. I’m not sure what else I expected him to say but it feels like a let down for no valid reason.
After a few more minutes of chatting, we walk outside. Was it this cold when we were out here before? It’s getting foggy out, and the streets are nearly empty from all the bar goers who have caught an Uber back to campus. We say goodbye to Marcus and Aden, and with his hand falling back to me like it's magnetized, Dean leads me back to his truck. It’s the only car left parked on this street that’s almost completely dark. I’m not worried about him driving, we each only had one drink. But I also don’t want to leave yet. I didn’t learn as much about him at dinner as I wanted to, and once we got to the bar it didn’t feel like we were spending time together, even though he included me in the conversation with his friends as much as possible. When we were talking, our conversation flowed well. I never felt like I had to find something to fill empty space. It was refreshing. It wasn’t particularly anything of substance though. It ended up being a bunch of random memories that were triggered from something the other person said.
I know I can’t learn everything in one night, and there’s no reason to rush it, but I find myself wanting more. I also find myself unsure what will happen once I get back home, wondering if he will want to see me again and if I’ll get the chance to keep discovering what makes Dean “Dean.” Staying here might keep me in suspense, but at least I can pretend the outcome is good if I don’t know what it is.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Deanunlocksthepassengerdoor for me, opens it and starts to walk toward the driver's side. I’m not sure if he notices I haven't made a move to get into the truck or if maybe he’s drawn back to me too. Either way, he takes the few steps until he’s back in front of me, staring into my eyes that immediately fix on his. Before I can say anything, his hand slides along my cheek, moving into my hair and gripping the back of my neck. I watch his eyes flash to my lips, then they are back on my eyes, as if asking for permission. But then he moves so close everything goes out of focus. My heart races. He hovers with the smallest distance between our lips before he closes it, pressing his mouth into mine, while simultaneously twisting my body so it’s pinned against his truck.
His kiss starts out as pure lust, pressing into me with a sudden, uncontrollable urgency, my lips parting for him as if they had no choice. His tongue swipes over my bottom lip before he deepens our kiss. As soon as he does, the tension I didn't realize I was holding in my entire body starts to melt away. I reach to his waist, pulling him toward me while helping me stay steady. His kiss that felt so desperate in the first few seconds suddenly calms as if he’s more in control. A flash of worry crosses my mind that he lost interest as quickly as he seemed to gain it, but he doesn’t make any sign to pull back from me. His urgency faded, but the intensity is still there. As his tongue moves in sync with mine, my thoughts start to fog. Even though I’m not, I feel intoxicated as he pulls my head closer to his face, as if it's not enough.
I need to come up for a breath, but I don’t want to break our kiss. I’m not sure I physically could even if I wanted to. This is by far the most heated kiss I’ve ever experienced, and I don’t want it to end. As if he’s reading my mind, he pulls back slowly, presses his forehead to mine for a split second, and whispers, “I just needed to do that.” He gives me one more soft kiss and turns away to get in his truck. I climb into my seat, holding onto the doorframe to steady myself. My hands are shaking and my mind is racing.
Before he starts his truck, I catch him running his thumb over his bottom lip. He glances my way, a look in his eyes that says he’s replaying that kiss over in his head like I am.
The drive back to my apartment is quiet besides the wind whistling through the cracked windows. It’s so cold that even with my jacket on, I’m shivering. He must notice because when we stop at a light, he rolls up the windows and reaches into his back seat, pulling a maroon hoodie forward. “Sorry, my heater is broken. You can wear this.” He holds it out for me, nudging it a little closer when he sees a hesitant look on my face.
“Thank you.” I slide it over my head, my body and heart warming immediately. It’s nearly one in the morning and completely dark out other than a few street lights by the time he pulls into the parking spot in front of my apartment door. He puts his truck in park but doesn’t turn it off before getting out. We meet in front of his truck and walk to my door, where I hesitate, digging for my key and holding it in the lock. “I want to come in,” his voice pierces through the silence of the night, “but I’m not going to,” he finishes his statement with certainty. Then he leans in to kiss me–a kiss in which I don’t think I participate in because I’m standing there shocked and processing what he said. Then he spins on his heel and heads back to his car. When he reaches it, he turns back around. “I had a good time tonight. See you around, Maci.” Without giving me a chance to reply, he hops into his truck and drives off.
I walk inside and close the door, leaning against it trying to sort through what happened. I’m shocked by how the ending to this night played out so differently than the few scenarios I had worked out in my head. Did my birthday wish for a perfect date really come true? I’ll definitely be wishing on candles every birthday from now on. I sink to the floor and lean against the door as I pull my hands into the sleeves of Dean’s hoodie.
Oh, oops, I forgot to give his sweatshirt back. It smells so good. It reminds me of when you’re camping, first wake and unzip your tent–like wood and fresh air maybe. I wonder if he let me keep it on purpose? That “see you around” comment he added in there is the only thing throwing me off, but I won’t try to figure that out right now because the second his lips touched mine, I felt something I have never felt, something that I don’t think I could describe well.
It was like when you have two magnets facing away from each other, pulling to be together but they get stuck at a certain distance. Then you turn them around and they fall perfectly together, creating a force that becomes harder to separate.
