The Girl He Needs (18 page)

“I have no idea. What about calling your mom?” he asks as we peer into the window of a bookstore.

I slide my arm around his waist. “I haven’t spoken to my mom in about a year.” Why bother pussyfooting around it? Bring on the questions.

“Really? Why not.”

I move to stand in front of him. “You see...I ....” How do I say it? “Twice now I was headed for the altar and bailed. The second guy she didn’t like or, should I say, approve of. You think she’d just be relieved that I didn’t go through with it, but not my mom. My mom is angry that I left Max at the altar. She’s upset that I got engaged to this artist, she’s angry that she found out because my brother saw it on Facebook, and really fucking pissed off that I made a spectacle of our family name, once again, by dumping him on the way to Vegas a few days before the event.” I watch the questions cross Brinn’s face. His eyebrows shoot up higher with each incident until they nearly reach his hairline.

“You’d actually get married in Vegas?” He smiles.

I laugh. “I like you. You’re all right.” I know he wants to ask more but he doesn’t and I appreciate that. It’s not a story for the sidewalk in a tourist town.

“Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself.” He leans forward, gently swiping his lips across mine. It’s spontaneous and sweet and makes me want him more.

“Even though I have a potty mouth?” I say, using my sassiest two-snaps-girlfriend tone and bobbing my head for emphasis.

“It’s shocking sometimes. But hell, watching you take a guy out is too, so there’s that.” He shrugs.

“So guys are the only ones who are supposed to cuss? Like there’s a language for women and language for men? Language discrimination.”

We walk along the sidewalk, purposefully bumping each other every few steps.

“I know it’s a gender bias. I get that. But sometimes men like to have some things to themselves.”

“So you want curse words? You have a penis. We don’t have penises. That’s not enough?” I drag him into a shop of stones and crystals.

“Dammit, I dunno, and I’ve a feeling this conversation is gonna get me in trouble with the bunny in you.”

I laugh. “Seriously, what is it though?”

“Maybe the Neanderthal in me doesn’t like it. It can be unattractive.”

“So because I have a potty mouth, the attraction you feel for me is somehow diminished?”

“I wouldn’t say that.” He rubs his brow with the palm of his hand and shakes his head.

“What?” I ask as I step into his space.

He leans closer to me, his face mere inches from mine. His breath on my lips. “Can you imagine? What if my attraction
is
diminished somewhat? What would our sex be like if that wasn’t the case?” He’s wearing a shit-eating grin. “Just think of all the things I could make happen for you. Like multiple orgasms. Oh, wait. I’ve already done that.”

We stare into each other’s eyes. I’m reliving every single touch and in those seconds they cumulate into a rush of sweet and unlocked desire. My knees threaten to buckle as I watch his eyes turn a darker green and his pupils dilate. I know he’s thinking of us together. When I place my hand on his chest, his body vibrates beneath my palm.

“I suppose in the interest of science I should consider giving up naughty words for a few weeks. See what happens,” I whisper.

“Science would be appreciative, though I bet there’re some ‘naughty’ words that would be OK.”

His lips brush against mine, lightly at first and then again with more urgency. I grab his shirt and kiss him hard and fast, our tongues entwined. I push him away with the same force and step out of his space. Throwing him down in a store is not on my list of planned events.

“Mm.” I lick my lips then scan the counter for a lifeline. My gaze settles on onyx colored stones. “I should also grab some of these.” I scoop up a handful of loose hematite stones because they’re supposed to stimulate sexual energy. “In case this flame fades. Maybe they’ll help preserve some of my sexual energy for the future, just in case I bunny it all out now.” I want to crawl into this man’s skin and stay there until I’ve had my fill.

“Jesus,” he whispers. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Oh no, you don’t. I’ve got plans for us.”

“I do too, and I bet mine would make us both feel real good. Nice and relaxed.” He steps toward me but I step back.

“No, we’re sticking to the plan. It’s not every day you have a birthday.”

He shakes his head and scrubs his palms down his face. “I’ll meet you outside.” Before turning to leave, he tugs at his shorts. I quickly pay and find him leaning against my car.

We drive back to Daytona and spend the afternoon on the boardwalk playing arcade games like skeet ball, trying to squelch our current of sexual desire. Instead, we channel it into the competitive streak we discover we each have, get roped into a few games of beach volleyball outside the Deck
,
and walk along the beach enjoying the warm ocean water. We avoid talking about the psychic and spend the energy on more enlightening conversation such as our favorite foods and movies. To my relief, I find he doesn’t have a shellfish allergy and, with what I hope is a covert text to Jayne, move forward with my plans for the evening.

I drive him to my place where, thanks to Jayne, a picnic awaits us, including a birthday cake. The hurricane lamps glow, and the kaleidoscope colors of the setting sun are our backdrop.

Jayne’s placed a beautiful linen cloth and the tableware from my kitchen on the table. Two candles, a bucket of chilling champagne, and two covered dishes are out. She’s pulled it off better than I imagined. I probably owe her my kidney or something, but it’s a nice way to cap off his birthday. We’ve done something silly that he would never do, a fun day playing games—the dream of any kid—and the adult nice dinner out.

Brinn looks down at a side table that holds the cake. “You got me an airplane shaped cake?” Amazement and joy cover his face.

“Mmm. I wasn’t sure if you like chocolate or vanilla, so it’s strawberry. I’m told a Publix buttercream cake can’t be beat.” Apparently the grocery chain is famous for their frosting.

“It can’t. Wait until you try it.” His eyes are alight with pleasure as he looks from me to the cake.

“Well then, by all means, let’s eat so we can get down to the cake.” I gesture to the table with our food.

I light the candles before I lift the covers from the dishes. The full yet subtle aroma of creamy sauce and lobster greets us.

“That smells good. Lobster, right? Is that what all the shellfish questions were about?” He helps me into my chair and as he pushes my chair in, his hand grazes mine, leaving my skin tingling from the touch.

“Mainly yes, but it was nice getting to know you better. Like yesterday at the bar, I wasn’t sure what you would want to drink. You ordered a pilsner the first time I saw you and a Guinness last night, but that might have been a one-time thing. I like learning about you.”

“What were you going to serve if I had a shellfish allergy?” He’s done with his lobster and already eyeballing mine.

“I don’t know, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches? I was leaving that part to Jayne. She’s the one that helped me set this up.”

A quiet moment passes between us. He lightly places the utensils across his plate before clearing his throat.

He asks softly, “Is it hard?”

I’m caught off guard and I look around, wondering what he’s referring to.

“I’m sorry?”

“Leaving. Making friends with people and purposefully leaving. Is it hard?”

Unsure of my answer, I take a sip of my wine instead and roll the question over, revisiting the memories of the last two years.

Gently, I swirl the liquid in my glass and focus on the motion and say, “Honestly, I don’t think I stayed long enough to make those sort of friendships. It works out that I leave when things are on a good note and with social media, I can keep in touch with pretty much anyone. Trying to reconnect with Will is far harder.” I look at him.

“You’ve seemed to make a good friend with Jayne,” he says.

I nod and set my glass on the table. “Yeah, that happened quickly. It’s never happened before.” It’ll be hard leaving here. That realization renders me breathless and now I understand why I struggled so with my run. Even then, almost two weeks ago, I was feeling more comfortable here than anywhere I’ve been yet. The connections here are greater, not better, but stronger, and knocking me off my stride.

“But what about home? People you’ve known for a long time.”

I wonder why he’s asking these questions. This guy who dreamed of leaving but never did. His history is here and nowhere else, whereas I have left a piece of me, no matter had small or insignificant, in different places.

“Funny enough, I don’t miss anyone from home with the exception of some older relatives and my parents. I didn’t have a lot of friends there.” I roll my eyes. “But Lord, my mother. Why I miss her, I’ll never know. She drives me nuts. But by being away from them I have Will again and I
really
missed him.”

He leans forward, takes my fork, and finishes off my lobster.

“When he left I felt like a part of me was gone too. I felt so alone.” I’m lost in the images of my past. It’s like hearing an old song on the radio and being transported back in time. “What about you and Vann? Aren’t you close?”

“Yeah, but it’s different. I’ve been Vann’s brother and his parent. I knew when he was born that it would be up to me to protect him. Pretty serious business for a five-year-old.”

“Was it terrible? Your childhood?” Will he meet me half way?

“Are we going to eat that cake or talk about shit that’s depressing as hell? Because if I had a vote, and I think I should since it’s my birthday and all, I’d vote on the cake.”

“Nice deflection.” I stand and bring the cake to the table, place a two and eight candle in the cake, and light it.

“How’d you know how old I was?”

“Just like I knew where you lived. I memorized your driver’s license, Brinn No- Middle Name McRae. Make a wish.” I step aside and present the cake with a flourish.

He turns his chair, and grabs me, fitting me between his legs.

Our eyes meet and a current of energy crackles and sparks between us.

“A wish, huh?” His voice is low and sexy.

“Make it a good one.”

With a quick puff, he blows out the candles. He slides his hands up my legs, beneath my shorts and a primal moan escapes me.

“I really hope it comes true.” I wrap my arms around his neck.

He stands and lifts me to straddle him. “There’s a good chance it will,” he says before kissing my piercing.

“I hope you didn’t waste your wish on me.” I arch as he travels kisses across my jaw and down my neck.

He lays me down on the platform chair and I tremble with anticipation. “Nothing about you is a waste.”

Today, for lack of a better expression, has sucked major balls. But even saying that doesn’t sound bad enough. Today, more than any day so far since living in Daytona, I want to pack my shit and hit the road. Turning my back on everything in this stupid state would be a wise move.

All because Will stood me up.

I knew it was too good to be true when he texted and asked if I wanted to hang out. All the previous offer’s I’d made to do the same were met with a quick and decisive no. But today he reached out. Today we were going to hang at the beach and I was going to work up the courage to ask him all the questions that’d been with me since he left.

Why did you leave?

Why wouldn’t you let me help?

Why am I so easy to forget?

But with my picnic basket loaded full of gourmet sandwiches and snacks, I sat on my blanket and waited over an hour past our rendezvous time. I’d even taken the day off from work.

Nothing.

I text him one simple question.

Will?

Sorry
is all I get.

I dump the food in the garbage by the boardwalk and ride my bike home so fast and furiously that I don’t feel the tears on my cheek until I pull into the driveway.

I don’t understand.

I thought I was done grieving for him, but every time he pulls away, it’s as if the wound is flayed open again.

I lose my shit in the shower. Sitting in the corner with the hot spray beating down I let it all out. Sob until I am deplete of tears or energy. I’m not sure which.

The only way to cope with this is to make a plan, so after my shower I boot up my laptop, and after a brief search, I find a cruise line job that I apply for. The timing is perfect as I have my lease until the beginning of September, which is when Mark’s daughter is scheduled to take over. In case I need further proof that Karma exists, the cruise line training is scheduled to start (if I get the job) that same week.

Planning doesn’t get more perfect than that.

The likely truth of this whole situation is that there is no place for me in Will’s life. The sooner I accept that the sooner I can get about the business of making my own life. Wherever that may be. I no longer need to seek him out and pick my destinations accordingly.

So for now, work will be a distraction I’ll take. Not willing to linger over my broken heart and somewhat energized by having a plan in place, I dress and set out to enjoy these last few weeks I have here. Starting with Brinn.

I’m pulling in the office parking lot as Brinn is walking out. I cut the wheel to make a sharp turn and park, my steering belt emitting a high pitch squeal. I do a thumbs-up and smile at Brinn through the windshield, laughing as he shakes his head at me.

“Hey,” I say, climbing out of the car.

He looks me up and down before he asks, “You got any spare clothes in that car of yours?”

I look down at my outfit. I’d kept my hair casual, capturing it in a long fat braid. My long jean skirt and white T-shirt are so simple they’re almost uninspiring. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing? Holy shit, this is conservative. I refuse to—”

He walks to me and puts his lips to mine, effectively shutting me up. Who is this handsome stranger who is at such ease with his public displays of affection? His phone rests beneath my palm, silent in his vest pocket. A little light of happiness charges through me, dissipating the aches. A little.