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The corner of his lip curled upward in a grin, and I felt my chest twist. That grin was so effective. I found myself hating Debbie even more. How could she see that grin, be able to kiss those lips, have the attention of this gorgeous man and then give him up willingly? What kind of arrogant bitch could do that?
I tried not to look at him, moving my attention to the bar. On the other end, I could see another woman. She was blonde and pretty. Big blue eyes. She was wearing a slinky evening gown and was sitting alone. Her eyes were burning into the back of Graham’s head.
It hit me. She was there for him. I let my eyes travel around the room and saw other people watching us too. People were whispering. Gesturing. They knew who he was, but they didn’t know who I was. I mean, I guess it was technically possible that someone could recognize me from off-off-off Broadway, but the likelihood of that in this city was very low. It was a lot more realistic that they would see this incredible, famous, successful baseball player sitting with a generic woman with unruly hair and wearing clothes that didn’t seem to fit the clientele of the bar she was in.
But Graham wasn’t paying attention to any of them. I didn’t even know if he recognized that any of them were there. He was purely focused on me. I got the impression he kept staring at my lips. I wondered if my lipstick was screwed up, but the mirror behind the bar showed it being in place and perfect.
“Yeah, well, I had a crush on you too,” I said, then slapped my hands over my mouth. “Oh my God, I didn’t just say that.”
Now the laugh I was expecting came, but instead of a cackling and mocking sound, it was a genuine, loud, singular sound. A laugh of surprise. Perhaps of vindication. I looked at him over my hands which were crawling up my face to cover my eyes, much the way my skin felt like it wanted to crawl off. My palms firmly shut over my lips so I couldn’t make the same mistake again. My tongue was a traitor, and I couldn’t trust my mouth being open.
“You did?” he asked. “How about that?”
“You had to know,” I said, suddenly turning myself back toward the bar and motioning to the bartender. It was going to be a many-drink-night. “Everyone knew. Everyone that noticed my existence, at least.”
“I didn’t know,” he said. “Honest. I had no idea. I wish I had.”
“I used to come watch your games,” I said. “You saw me a couple of times. You made eye contact with me. I know you knew I was there.”
“Then you avoided me like the plague after,” he said. “I would come looking for you, and you were gone. I figured you didn’t want to have anything to do with me.”
I scoffed incredulously as the bartender brought me a large, fruity drink. And another shot. Bless him, he could tell what I needed.
I downed the shot and shuddered as the alcohol burned down my throat. I needed it to steel myself. The fruity yumminess was simply a chaser for the whiskey. I took a long sip of that, loving the sweetness and feeling the flush of the alcohol as it coursed through my system.
I had two choices now. I could try to change the subject and maybe even end the night early, saving myself the embarrassment of him knowing what I wanted to say. Or I could tell him. Let it all out. Give myself the chance to empty out all the thoughts and feelings I’d had about him for so many years and get it off my chest.
“I wanted everything to do with you,” I said, emboldened by the alcohol and ten years of pent-up sexual frustration. It came out of my mouth in one big clump, like it wanted to be said so badly that the words were bunched up on top of each other. “I was such a nervous wreck back in high school. I didn’t have any confidence in myself. I was a socially incapable mess. I knew people, but I didn’t reallyknowpeople. They were friends, but aside from Tessa and Kat, none of them knew much about me other than my name and whatever class they shared with me.
“Then there was you. You were so cool. You were famous in school. You were dating the head cheerleader. How much of a cliché is that? You could do whatever you wanted; why would you want to talk to me? Why would you notice me, except when you ran into me in the hallway? Even then, you made me so nervous.”
“That’s crazy,” Graham said, shaking his head. “I mean, I know I was popular. I just wasn’t anyone special as a person, though. You met me. You knew that.”
“No, I didn’t know anything,” I said. “I knew you were an athlete and brilliant. And you were homecoming king! Come on! You were a walking, talking eighties movie heartthrob! I was just the nerdy, shy, theater kid. Who the hell was I?”
“Look,” he said. “I was attracted to you. I’ll swear on the grave of Cy Young, I was crushing on you from the minute we ran into each other in the hall and wondered where you ran off to afterward.”
“Well, I never had any reason to think that,” I said. “You were nice to me. That’s all. You weren’t showing any signs I could see.”
There was a quiet moment as he sat there, staring at me, like he was contemplating something. He took a deep pull of his drink and set it down and turned fully toward me again.
“Maybe this will be clearer,” he said.
He stood, and I turned toward him. What was he doing? He was closing the space between us quickly. His eyes were softer, and I felt myself focusing on his lips. They were full and parted ever so slightly. His head turned to the side a little, and I barely knew what was happening before he was on me.
Our lips crushed together, and I melted into it. The surprise fell away and pooled into a warm, excited heat that buzzed through my body and lit my nerves on fire. The kiss grew more passionate, and I felt like I couldn’t catch my breath.
12
GRAHAM
Ipulled back from the kiss and searched her eyes. There was a fire there, deep within. The same kind of fire I recognized in myself. Passion that welled deep and had only been stoked by our chance meeting in the bar years before. How many nights had she thought about our kiss? How many nights had we both dreamed about the other? On the same night?
Her eyes, soft and blue, were begging for another kiss. I could see it in them. And I had no intention of disappointing her.
I leaned forward to kiss her again, and she met me halfway. Our lips pressed into one another, and my tongue slid into her mouth. I could taste the sweet, sugary drink that she had been sipping, a ghost of fruit and alcohol on her breath. The kiss intensified immediately, and we pulled deep into each other, our bodies pressed tightly together.
Everything that had been held back for ten years had come to the surface, bubbling over, crashing into reality like a tsunami slamming into a beach. Like the unstoppable force of nature’s storms, it would not be stopped. It would not be held back. It would not be controlled.
