Forgotten Yesterday (13 page)

“A glimpse, maybe,” I speak. “I don’t know. You leave tomorrow, remember?”

My chest rises and falls against his as we let the silence weigh heavily. This is what we’re dealt. Yes, there’s a palpable desire between us. We both feel it. I know he does. I can see it all over him, right now.

“Yes, I do leave tomorrow, but I also know what you’re doing,” he sighs insistently. “So you can stop right now.”

“Stop what?”

“The excuses.”

“What excuses? The baby? The distance? There’s no way that thousands of miles between us tomorrow can be seen as an excuse. It’s there. You live in California. It’s a different freaking time zone.”

“You’re still so fucking stubborn and set in your head.”

“No, I just see the facts.”

“Well, you’re missing the most important one.” Brent places both hands on the window behind me, on either side of my head, caging me in. “That willful mind of yours clouds your judgment too much and you’ve never listened to what matters. Especially, to what you want. You were always trying to logic out the world and I know that’s what you’re doing now. And I can tell...” He tilts his head down, whispering into my ear, “That you still feel everything you don’t want to about me. You’re just scared that everything between you and I never went away, like you thought it did. Let me tell you something…I thought it did too, but it didn’t. So, stop fighting it.”

“You’re right,” I admit. “I am scared. I do still feel it. I feel
all
of it. Everything.”

“And so do I.”

Brushing my nose against his, I allow our lips to skate and skim hesitantly across one another. Brent’s breath raggedly flows out to meet mine.

I want to dive in and taste him.

I want to press myself into him.

I want to let him hold me close and never let me go.

I’m plummeting without a rope into that dangerous rabbit hole.

“What about tomorrow?” I ask, in an effort hold up my fight.

“What about now?” he insists.

What about now?
Now is the operative word. He’s here and so am I—and I so badly want to feel something I know only he can give me.

I decide. I surrender.

Inhaling acutely, I tilt my chin upward, touching my lips to his, waiting for him to accept my reply. He kisses me gently and then takes a step backwards.

“I do have to leave in the morning,” he concedes. “If you think it would be easier for me to go now, just tell me.”

“There isn’t going to be anything easy about you leaving, no matter when it happens.”

“I wish I could stay longer, but I can’t,” he tells me earnestly. “Really, I can’t.”

Reaching out my hand, Brent places his in mine and I lead him down the street. The streetlights from the commercial area fade into the background as we make our way into a more residential area, lined with large trees and fences along the sidewalks.

We travel about six blocks when my apartment building comes into view. My heart begins to race heavily and the blood in my veins warms my skin, causing a nervous shiver to erupt.

An invitation like this only means one thing. We both know this. However, I want this. I want any time I can get with him.

Maybe this is how my life is meant to be. Never feeling happiness for long periods of time, but learning to embrace those moments when they arise.

Dropping Brent’s hand, I walk up the short path to the front entrance of my building and pull out my keys under the entry light. I open the door, holding it for him to join me. He stands just outside, not crossing the threshold.

“Are you coming in?” I question.

“Is this what you want?”

“No.” I smile, sadly. “I don’t want you to come in and spend the night with me, knowing that you’re leaving in the morning. However, the idea of waking up tomorrow and realizing that I could have spent this time with you, and not done so, isn’t something I think I could ever forgive myself for.”

“So you’re willing to take whatever time we can get together?”

“Yeah. We can worry about goodbye, later.”

Fourteen

Closing my apartment door, I step around Brent and into the main section of the studio. Toeing out of my shoes, I flick on the ceiling light, revealing the small space surrounded by white walls with a few poster prints. It’s sparse, but I don’t need much. When I moved back to Chicago, I didn’t have much in the way of belongings and with my dad being in prison, I had to rely on my own resources to furnish the place. But most of my money is needed for school and rent.

Unbuttoning my coat, I make my way to the closet and hang it up.

“I can take your coat if you like,” I say to Brent as he stands in the center of the room.

“Sure.” He meets me halfway and shrugs out of his black leather jacket. I take it from him and hang the heavy garment on the sturdiest hanger I can find. Wiping my clammy hands on my thighs, I return to join him.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” I ask, leaning against the kitchen counter. “Water? Soda? I’m out of milkshakes, but I do have ice cream.”

“Ha, ha,” he enunciates. “I’m good.” He twists around, regarding the apartment some more. “You don’t have any chairs.”

“No, sorry.”

“Where do you eat?”

“Standing up at the counter usually,” I tell him, tilting my head toward to the small bar ledge near the refrigerator.

He turns about looking all around and then takes a step toward my bedside table. Bending slightly, Brent picks up the paddle charm bracelet.

“You still have this?”

“Yeah.” I cross my arms, feeling a little defensive about being caught in my reminiscing. “I just found it recently.”

“Sure you did,” he responds in an unbelieving tone. He places it back on the table. “Now what?”

“I have a deck of cards,” I suggest innocently, knowing there’s only one reason someone of the opposite sex would be at my place at this hour. He knows it, too.

Brent raises his brows.

“What? I don’t know what we’re supposed to do. This is hard.”

“Get the cards,” he laughs.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. We can play a hand of strip poker. I know you’re dying to get me out of my clothes.”

As instructed, I take out a deck of cards from one of the drawers in the kitchen. My hands are visibly shaking.

I pull out the cards from the box as I make my way to the bed. Taking a seat, I cross my legs and start to deal. Even though I’m focused on the deck, I can sense Brent’s eyes on me.

“I was just kidding,” he says, still standing near my bedside table.

“Doesn’t matter. Take a seat.” I continue to deal. “If you’re afraid you’re going to lose, feel free to take off all of your clothes now. We can skip the game.”

 “Yeah, right,” he utters sarcastically. “I call bullshit.”

He’s right. I’m all talk. I can barely contain my anxiety or my excitement as they mix and curdle together.

Plopping onto the bed, Brent toes off his shoes and sits across from me, mirroring my posture. After each hand is dealt, I place the rest of the cards in the middle and pick up my cards to start.

“Do you have any sevens?” I ask.

“What?”

“Sevens. Do you have any? You know, the number that comes after six? The one that ate nine?”

“You’re a real ball buster, aren’t you?” he laughs.

“Sometimes. Only when I’m nervous, though.”

“I make you nervous?”

“What do you think?” I lay the cards face down in my lap.

“I think you can be a huge pain in the ass, but I already knew that,” he says with affection, resting his hand on my knee.
Forget nerves, now I’m on fire.
“Let’s play and see where it goes.”

He draws back and picks up his cards.

“So, do you have any sevens?” I ask again.

“I’m not telling you. That’s cheating.”

“No it isn’t.”

“Yes it is.”

“Do you want to play or not?”

“What kind of poker is this?” he questions, confused and smirking.

“Go fish,” I say, deadpan. Brent’s dimple twitches. “What? I don’t know how to play poker. So we’re playing strip fish. Deal with it.”

“Strip fish? Hmmmmm.” Brent moves the cards around in his hand. “Nope, no sevens. Go fish. Or should I say strip fish? How do we play anyhow?”

Setting down my hand, I slip off a sock and throw it to the floor. “If the other person doesn’t have what you ask for, you lose a piece of clothing.”

“And you chose a sock, first?”

“Yeah. It was a tough call. My feet get cold really easily, so don’t think I’m not suffering. This is real punishment.”

“Sure it is.”

Brent and I take a few turns asking each other for different cards, playing a game intended for kindergartners. He doesn’t question the rules any further, just plays along, totally kicking my ass.

After about fifteen minutes, I’m starting to question whether this was a good idea or not. This game is definitely working more in Brent’s favor. The only items I’m left wearing are my panties, bra, and a button-up blouse. Brent, on the other hand, has only lost his sweater and it’s not like I’m getting a good show either. His undershirt is blocking that view.

“Do you have any sixes,” I ask.

“Strip fish,” Brent replies.

Sighing, I set my cards down on the bed and reach up, undoing the top button of my shirt. This is the breaking point of the game. Brent tries to be modest, but I can feel him following my hands as they undo one, two, and then three buttons, revealing the lace bra underneath.

Inclining towards me, he touches the pendant around my neck. “Is this?”

“Yes.” My skin shivers and it’s not from the chill in the air. “It is.”

Brent flips over the round gemstone a few times, his attention elsewhere. I become static, waiting with my fingertips on my shirt buttons while he examines all of the gem’s facets.

He settles back to where he’s seated and releases the necklace. Automatically, I continue undressing, making my way down the line of closures. Coming upon the last button, Brent lays a hand on top of mine.

“Wait,” he murmurs.

He gathers up the cards, including his hand and mine, and sets them on the nearby table. Rising from the bed, he walks over and flips off the light switch near the entry. I sit on the bed unsure of what’s happening, listening to Brent’s footsteps until his silhouette stops in front of me, outlined by the faint glow coming through the window. He waits, standing next to the bed, silent for more than a comfortable moment.

“Brent?” I shift, tucking my feet under me, sitting on my heels.

Wordlessly, he unbuckles his belt, shoves his pants to the ground and steps out of them. Brent takes a seat on the bed, dressed only in his t-shirt and boxers. My heart pounds, no hammers, hard in my chest. In the span of three seconds, my stomach flips about a million times. There’s no sound other than my audible breathing.

Brent’s hands find the button at the bottom of my shirt and he begins to close up my blouse. I watch his intent and concentrated face as he fastens it up higher, over my stomach and then my chest. When he reaches the top button, he pauses. Dipping his head, he kisses the place where the ruby lies against my skin and then seals it behind the fabric, closing the last button.

What is going on in his head?

“Hang on,” he says, rising and leaving me alone on the bed. Brent shuffles through his pants and takes out his phone. “I need to set my alarm for the morning.”

“Right,” I drone, confused about what’s going on. He’s leaving in the morning, there’s no question about that, but his behavior in the last three minutes has me befuddled.

Once he’s finished setting the alarm, Brent pulls back the comforter, sliding into bed and I join him under the covers. Lying on our backs, we stare at the ceiling.

“So…” I start hesitantly. “I guess we’re not...?”

Brent adjusts himself so he’s lying on his side with his head resting on the pillow. “When I leave in the morning, I don’t want either one of us to regret tonight in any way.”

I shift so we face one another, inches apart. He thumbs a strand of hair from my cheek and then plants his lips on my forehead.

“Is everything okay? I thought...”

“I know. I did too, but I...” He sighs. “Things are already complicated enough, don’t you think?”

“Yeah. They really are.” I clear my throat. “Are you okay, though?”

His hand reaches out to find mine under the sheet and carefully fingers its way up my arm, coming to rest on my shoulder.

“No. I’m not.”

“Brent—”

“Shhhhh, I’m going to kiss you,” he tells me firmly.

Propping himself up, Brent leans over and softly lands his lips on mine. It reminds me of how careful and gentle he was the first time we kissed, long ago by the lake. Then, we were two kids just trying to figure each other out. Drawn to each other for reasons neither one of us could understand.
Maybe we’re still in there?

His mouth moves hesitantly and slowly across mine, with noticeable restraint. I palm Brent’s jaw, realizing this is the first time I’ve touched him intimately, despite the fact that we kissed earlier. Resisting him, since he made an appearance in my life once again, has been a constant struggle. I’m letting go of that fight, allowing myself to
want
him.

Brent’s tongue grazes my teeth with apprehension, but I quickly meet it with my own, rubbing them together. He sucks on my tongue and a moan escapes simultaneously from both of us.

Nobody kisses me like this.

Nobody has ever made me feel like this,
ever
.

Brent traces his hand down my physique, landing on my hipbone. His fingers flirt with the lace strap of my panties and I press my breasts into him. I don’t care about what he said before, there’s no way I could regret being close to him right now.

Reaching around his back, I pull at his shirt, finding the elastic band of his boxers, and slide my hand underneath, palming his firm ass. Brent groans, pushing his lower half against me.