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Glad to see nothing’s changed. At least there’s comfort in familiarity…
“Oh, nothing,” I say with a sweet smile, but beneath it is acid. I roll my eyes when he looks away.
Brian leans back into the couch, slinging an arm across the back behind me. “So, my parents want to start making wedding arrangements. They’re wondering where yours are at in terms of budget.” He slurps on his beer.
My fingers stop mid-page turn. I knew the road I was headed down when I agreed to get back with Brian was leading towards a wedding. Our parents have made some sort of deal. Tying their money and businesses together would benefit them both. I was just hoping I would have at least a month before I’d be pestered with floral arrangements and dress fittings.
“I’ll have to ask them. Why don’t we all get brunch next weekend?” I ask sweetly, returning to my book.
“My mom mentioned something about lilies. You like lilies, right?”
I hate lilies, I think to myself, doing my best to remain in the semblance of contentment the book is giving me. All I want out of this is the trust fund, big house, and new car that was promised.
And the distraction from a certain ex-criminal.
“Yeah, lilies are great.”
“I’ll tell her you said that.”
The game comes back on, and I know the conversation is done. I’ll be spared until we have to discuss what’s for dinner, then after that watch a show of his choosing, and after that go to bed to have boring, meaningless sex with me on top and him attempting to talk dirty to me.
It’s a cycle. It’s predictable. It’seasy. I know what’s coming, and I’m in control of it. It’s certainly no tattooed ex-criminal in snug black t-shirts and skills in the bedroom that certainly outdo even the hunk in the book I’m reading.
But the book quickly gets too boring to read, even though it’s mid-steamy scene and his you-know-what is in tight, wet places. Desire rises up in me. Not for Brian, or the hunk in the book, but for someone else.
Slamming the book shut, I rise from my seat. “I just realized I forgot to take care of some important inventory at work. I’m going to run over and take care of that real quick.”
Brian barely looks away from the screen as he says, “Okay.” He’s barely going to even notice I’m gone.
Slipping my leather jacket over my casual, loose fitting t-shirt and jeans, I slip out the door and make my way to Midnights. I’m antsy in my seat the entire drive, for a multitude of reasons. For one, that desire has bubbled up into a familiar ache between my legs. Two, I’m making an estimated guess on who’s going to be in the office on a Sunday. I’m antsy to find out, teetering between both possibilities of it being empty, or occupied.
Pulling into the parking lot, I find my pace into the building to be far too speedy. I attempt to calm myself, to slow myself down, but find my legs working of their own accord as I turn the key in the lock and enter the building. The room is bathed in shadows. None of the overhead lights are on. Standing at the door, I debate turning around right now, not allowing myself to succumb to such whims, to do something outside of my realm of known, expecting something to happen, or to be different.
I’m frozen to the spot until an achingly familiar voice says from the bar, “Tired of Brian already?”
Kay is nursing a glass of his preferred vice. His hair is as disheveled as it was the night I caught him. He’s not in his trademark black clothes, but in a white t-shirt and blue jeans, and somehow, they’re even sexier.
“What are you doing here?” I ask him, as if I wasn’t coming here just to look for him.
“I could ask you the same thing,” he says, pulling out a stool next to him.
I try to hide my eagerness and make an attempt at apprehension, but I make my way toward him and take a seat. He rises at the same time I sit down.
“You look like you could use a drink,” he says, making his way around the bar, his words slightly slurred. He must have been sitting here long before I arrived, taking advantage of his free use of the liquor. “What are you having?”
“Whiskey on the rocks. Your choice of brand.”
Kay laughs to himself, as if he’s in on some personal inside joke that I’m not a part of.
“What’s so funny?” I ask, leaning my elbows on the bar.
“You came here looking for me, I came here hoping you’d come looking for me. You order a whiskey.” He adds ice to the glass, pouring a top shelf brand over it like he’s done it a million times before. “Very alike, you and I.”
“You’re drunk.”
Kay shrugs, an amused grin on his face. “Maybe.” He slides the glass over to me. “So join me.” Making his way back around the bar, he moves to sit next to me again, his arm brushing mine.
That small touch nearly unravels me completely.
