gone.
And this six minutes was going to be the death of me.
“Who says I’m going to let you do those things to me?”
“You do. With the way you’re eye-fucking me.”
I laughed. I couldn’t really argue that. He seemed to instinctively know that we were on the same page.
A customer came up to the register to check out. She set a Madonna record in front of me, a collector’s item, and her friend looked at Parker the same way I did.
She was eye-fucking him, too.
And I didn’t like it.
His eyes were still on me, watching my every move as I rang up the purchase.
“Excuse me,” the friend of my customer said. She was looking at Parker, but he was still staring intently at me.
“Are you Parker James?” she asked.
I glanced over at him, and he slowly turned to look at the girl. “I am.”
“Oh my God! I’m such a huge fan!” She was gushing. Annoyingly. Obnoxiously.
“Thank you.” It was a simple statement, and he turned his attention back to me. My hands shook slightly as I bagged the record.
“Can I get a picture with you?”
He sighed and leaned in close to me, touching his lips to my temple. A shudder ran the length of my body at his touch and the implication of it. He was showing this fan that he wasn’t interested in anything more than a picture. I respected that. It made me actually believe his words about his lack of action during his tour. He’d given me no reason to think he had lied, but I was a disbeliever by nature.
“Sure,” he said, stepping around the counter to fulfill his duties as the lead guitarist in an up-and-coming band.
A smile tipped my lips watching him. He maintained his distance even though she didn’t. He was respectful but direct, making it clear from the way his eyes kept moving in my direction that he only had eyes for one woman in the store that night.
It lit something inside of me that I’d never felt before. It made me feel cherished, treasured.
I’d never been treasured before. I’d been used, neglected, ignored, recycled, mistreated, possessed, obsessed, infatuated. But I’d never felt that special value of someone revering me. Wanting me. Loving me.
Parker gave me that, and he didn’t even know me. In some ways, he’d given me more in the couple of minutes we’d interacted than Damien had given me the entire time we’d been together.
Damien and I met in high school. He was a year older than me, a senior when I was a junior. He’d transferred in from another school, and we passed each other in the hallway on his first day. His piercing blue eyes had met mine, and I’d felt a strong pull to him like nothing I’d ever felt before him.
That’s how I knew that this connection to Parker was real.
I’d felt a pull at first sight before with Damien. But it was different. With him, it was all about friendship first. Feelings came later. Addiction came later.
But with Parker, the emotions I’d been missing for so long came first. They came before I’d ever even seen his face. They surged through me when I’d heard his voice in the alley defending me, and they’d implanted in my blood the moment our eyes met across the room.
My first words to him had been sexual, so it didn’t surprise me that he had certain expectations. I wanted it, too. I wanted to give myself over to him—eventually—even though I knew we would be bad for each other.
I’d be honest with him, and if he decided to risk it anyway, there wouldn’t be anything I could do to stop him.
I wished I was stronger than I was. I wished I could protect him.
But I was only human. My humanity had no chance against his sex appeal.
“Time’s up, Jimi.”
I glanced over at the clock. Eight o’clock on the dot.
“Let me just run in back and punch out. I’ll meet you back here in a minute.”
He nodded, allowing me to do my thing.
I headed to the break room and stamped my timecard through the machine. I yelled a hasty goodbye to Tim.
Poor Tim. He looked longingly in my
And this six minutes was going to be the death of me.
“Who says I’m going to let you do those things to me?”
“You do. With the way you’re eye-fucking me.”
I laughed. I couldn’t really argue that. He seemed to instinctively know that we were on the same page.
A customer came up to the register to check out. She set a Madonna record in front of me, a collector’s item, and her friend looked at Parker the same way I did.
She was eye-fucking him, too.
And I didn’t like it.
His eyes were still on me, watching my every move as I rang up the purchase.
“Excuse me,” the friend of my customer said. She was looking at Parker, but he was still staring intently at me.
“Are you Parker James?” she asked.
I glanced over at him, and he slowly turned to look at the girl. “I am.”
“Oh my God! I’m such a huge fan!” She was gushing. Annoyingly. Obnoxiously.
“Thank you.” It was a simple statement, and he turned his attention back to me. My hands shook slightly as I bagged the record.
“Can I get a picture with you?”
He sighed and leaned in close to me, touching his lips to my temple. A shudder ran the length of my body at his touch and the implication of it. He was showing this fan that he wasn’t interested in anything more than a picture. I respected that. It made me actually believe his words about his lack of action during his tour. He’d given me no reason to think he had lied, but I was a disbeliever by nature.
“Sure,” he said, stepping around the counter to fulfill his duties as the lead guitarist in an up-and-coming band.
A smile tipped my lips watching him. He maintained his distance even though she didn’t. He was respectful but direct, making it clear from the way his eyes kept moving in my direction that he only had eyes for one woman in the store that night.
It lit something inside of me that I’d never felt before. It made me feel cherished, treasured.
I’d never been treasured before. I’d been used, neglected, ignored, recycled, mistreated, possessed, obsessed, infatuated. But I’d never felt that special value of someone revering me. Wanting me. Loving me.
Parker gave me that, and he didn’t even know me. In some ways, he’d given me more in the couple of minutes we’d interacted than Damien had given me the entire time we’d been together.
Damien and I met in high school. He was a year older than me, a senior when I was a junior. He’d transferred in from another school, and we passed each other in the hallway on his first day. His piercing blue eyes had met mine, and I’d felt a strong pull to him like nothing I’d ever felt before him.
That’s how I knew that this connection to Parker was real.
I’d felt a pull at first sight before with Damien. But it was different. With him, it was all about friendship first. Feelings came later. Addiction came later.
But with Parker, the emotions I’d been missing for so long came first. They came before I’d ever even seen his face. They surged through me when I’d heard his voice in the alley defending me, and they’d implanted in my blood the moment our eyes met across the room.
My first words to him had been sexual, so it didn’t surprise me that he had certain expectations. I wanted it, too. I wanted to give myself over to him—eventually—even though I knew we would be bad for each other.
I’d be honest with him, and if he decided to risk it anyway, there wouldn’t be anything I could do to stop him.
I wished I was stronger than I was. I wished I could protect him.
But I was only human. My humanity had no chance against his sex appeal.
“Time’s up, Jimi.”
I glanced over at the clock. Eight o’clock on the dot.
“Let me just run in back and punch out. I’ll meet you back here in a minute.”
He nodded, allowing me to do my thing.
I headed to the break room and stamped my timecard through the machine. I yelled a hasty goodbye to Tim.
Poor Tim. He looked longingly in my
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