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Damn, I almost wonder if I look like a wildebeest all out of breath while he’s the one who exerted more energy. But the way Leith stares at me brings a memory from the one poetry class I took at community college. “Young love like drugs left us chasing our first highs”–Atticus.
Knowing I’ll never forget how Leith’s eyes settled on mine the first time he called me ‘hen,’ a blush ignites across my skin.
Leith rests his palm between my heaving breasts. “I can’t have you dying for me when I’m supposed to die for you.”
I swat at him as he cocks a smile. “You know I hate that, Leith. Nobody’s dying for . . .” His turquoise gaze moves away from mine. I grab the empty pint. “From one to ten.”
“A number hasn’t been invented for sex with you.”
“Of course,” I grin. “But you know damn well I’m referring to the beer.”
“The best I ever had…”
“Leith, me or the damn drink!” I cock my head.
“Both.”
“Both?” I gush as he peppers my face with the sweet taste from between my thighs. Leith presses tight against me as we laugh. The vibrations send shockwaves of his abdomen and chest against my softer body.
Sucking in air, I murmur, “Both?”
Gently, he says, “That’ll do, Chevelle.”
The opportunist that Leith is, he bites my bottom lip, hiking my legs over his. We have a visceral need to touch each other even during conversation. This desire came way before he started traveling for work. He says, “Hen, the two of us are gonna open a pub. Call it Chevelles.”
“My name doesn’t have the ring I’m aiming for. I prefer ‘Mia’s Place.’”
“Name like that, it’ll havefizzyjuice as a call to action on the windows. Nae Mia’s.”
I laugh relentlessly. “Um-hmm, with my name in the lights, you’ll have the place decked out with muscle cars. I’d rather it be classy.”
“Aye right, fancy.” He rolls his eyes. “Naenuggetsbelting tunes in their ale. A rightnaffplace.”
“Boring, really, Leith?” I pop his shoulder.
He laughs, taking on a serious stance. Leith rubs my cheek with his thumb. “So, we save more. Tell me how much you need, Chevelle.”
I catch his thumb in my mouth, show my appreciation for his kindness. When Leith groans deep down in his chest, I bite the bullet. “I’ll . . . bartend again.” I reply, tentatively. “Mia’s birthday is around the corner. I’ve been almost four years out the game.”
He laughs. Not one of those best friend laughs, but a ‘husband laugh’ where the final decision belongs solely to him. He’s vetoed my suggestion. The plains of his chest and abdominals are taut beneath my skin as I push him away. He’s been home for such a short amount of time, and yet an argument breaches our love story.
