“And so are you, but I’d say California.”
Not according to the license I had. “Sometimes.” I shrugged.
She smiled again. It was a nice sort of smile. I poured her another drink.
*
Kissing her was easy. Easier than I’d thought it would be. Easier than it should have been. Just like it had been easy for me to say yes when she wanted me to walk her back to her hotel. Just like it had been easy to go into her room.
I liked the way she talked when she said, “I want you to stay, Cooper.” I liked the way she said my name.
She tasted like tequila. That was my fault I guess. The way she kissed me was the way a hundred other girls, women, had kissed me. Like she was dying and I was salvation. Except I was the one who was dying.
But I wasn’t thinking about that. Promise.
Joan’s fingertips were smooth as she skimmed under my shirt, lifting the cotton from my skin. I wasn’t as kind with hers, tearing it over her head while I kissed her. That’s a difficult trick. Closing my eyes made it harder to keep kissing her. When I closed them, it made all the differences matter more. Her lips weren’t as full. She smelled like Chanel. My mother wore Chanel. Reese didn’t wear perfume. Joan’s skin felt too soft against mine, like she wasn’t real. Parts of her weren’t, actually. Those tits were fake, too perky, not soft enough. Not that it mattered. Except it did.
So I kept my eyes open. Just to remind myself.
My hand was at the zipper on her skirt while I debated if I could do it when she moaned against my mouth, “Make love to me.”
What an absurd thing to say. We’d known each other for an hour. I wasn’t planning on making love to her. I was going to fuck her. Making love required, well, love. I didn’t love her. Just like I never loved the girls, women, I found in bars.
“No,” I found myself saying. Gratefully, I allowed my hands to fall away from her body. I didn’t want to touch her. I didn’t want to touch anyone.
“What?” Joan tossed her hair back and grinned up at me waiting for the punch line.
I had no punch line.
“I…” had never left a woman waiting for me to fuck her. “I gotta go. I’m sorry.” And I meant it. I really was sorry. For everything.
“Are you serious?” She crossed her arms over her chest, unintentionally covering herself.
I didn’t blame her. “Yeah, really. I’m sorry.” For some reason, I just kept repeating that. I grabbed my shirt off the floor, nearly falling over in the process. I realized how very drunk I was. It really hit me once I was in the hallway outside her door. The walls seemed to curve in ways they shouldn’t have and the floor was bumpy. That had to be why I was stumbling. With one hand on the wall, I made it to an elevator. From there I staggered through the hotel lobby and found myself on a beach.
The beach was a good place to sleep. Sand was soft. It wasn’t until I sat on the ground and wrapped my arms around my knees that the tears came.
Chapter Five
The new plan was having no plan. No relying on planes to get me somewhere. No selling bright shiny metal to get there faster. No girl to hold my hand. No boy to watch my back.
I’d spent a few hours on the beach waiting for the sun to come up. When it did, my eyes were drier and I was almost sober. That would have to count as sleep.
Next was shower, clothes, food, coffee, find a gun, find a toothbrush. In no particular order. If I stumbled across a nine while I was walking toward food, I could just cross that off the list. Wasn’t counting on that though. I wasn’t counting on anything.
It’s easier to do when you have nothing.
After a lovely meal of coffee and dry toast that I actually managed to swallow, I was left to find a gun and a toothbrush. Scavenger hunts are fun. Of course, I knew where I could get everything on my list. Hell, I knew I could get more, but I was afraid. Afraid to face them. Afraid to look Ryan in the eye and tell him he was right,
Not according to the license I had. “Sometimes.” I shrugged.
She smiled again. It was a nice sort of smile. I poured her another drink.
*
Kissing her was easy. Easier than I’d thought it would be. Easier than it should have been. Just like it had been easy for me to say yes when she wanted me to walk her back to her hotel. Just like it had been easy to go into her room.
I liked the way she talked when she said, “I want you to stay, Cooper.” I liked the way she said my name.
She tasted like tequila. That was my fault I guess. The way she kissed me was the way a hundred other girls, women, had kissed me. Like she was dying and I was salvation. Except I was the one who was dying.
But I wasn’t thinking about that. Promise.
Joan’s fingertips were smooth as she skimmed under my shirt, lifting the cotton from my skin. I wasn’t as kind with hers, tearing it over her head while I kissed her. That’s a difficult trick. Closing my eyes made it harder to keep kissing her. When I closed them, it made all the differences matter more. Her lips weren’t as full. She smelled like Chanel. My mother wore Chanel. Reese didn’t wear perfume. Joan’s skin felt too soft against mine, like she wasn’t real. Parts of her weren’t, actually. Those tits were fake, too perky, not soft enough. Not that it mattered. Except it did.
So I kept my eyes open. Just to remind myself.
My hand was at the zipper on her skirt while I debated if I could do it when she moaned against my mouth, “Make love to me.”
What an absurd thing to say. We’d known each other for an hour. I wasn’t planning on making love to her. I was going to fuck her. Making love required, well, love. I didn’t love her. Just like I never loved the girls, women, I found in bars.
“No,” I found myself saying. Gratefully, I allowed my hands to fall away from her body. I didn’t want to touch her. I didn’t want to touch anyone.
“What?” Joan tossed her hair back and grinned up at me waiting for the punch line.
I had no punch line.
“I…” had never left a woman waiting for me to fuck her. “I gotta go. I’m sorry.” And I meant it. I really was sorry. For everything.
“Are you serious?” She crossed her arms over her chest, unintentionally covering herself.
I didn’t blame her. “Yeah, really. I’m sorry.” For some reason, I just kept repeating that. I grabbed my shirt off the floor, nearly falling over in the process. I realized how very drunk I was. It really hit me once I was in the hallway outside her door. The walls seemed to curve in ways they shouldn’t have and the floor was bumpy. That had to be why I was stumbling. With one hand on the wall, I made it to an elevator. From there I staggered through the hotel lobby and found myself on a beach.
The beach was a good place to sleep. Sand was soft. It wasn’t until I sat on the ground and wrapped my arms around my knees that the tears came.
Chapter Five
The new plan was having no plan. No relying on planes to get me somewhere. No selling bright shiny metal to get there faster. No girl to hold my hand. No boy to watch my back.
I’d spent a few hours on the beach waiting for the sun to come up. When it did, my eyes were drier and I was almost sober. That would have to count as sleep.
Next was shower, clothes, food, coffee, find a gun, find a toothbrush. In no particular order. If I stumbled across a nine while I was walking toward food, I could just cross that off the list. Wasn’t counting on that though. I wasn’t counting on anything.
It’s easier to do when you have nothing.
After a lovely meal of coffee and dry toast that I actually managed to swallow, I was left to find a gun and a toothbrush. Scavenger hunts are fun. Of course, I knew where I could get everything on my list. Hell, I knew I could get more, but I was afraid. Afraid to face them. Afraid to look Ryan in the eye and tell him he was right,
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