I command myself to break the laser tractor beam of Tori’s stare.
I was stupid to bring Harper to Pistol’s. I take a slow, deep breath and return my attention to Harper. “Did you say something?”
She gives me a wide-eyed look. “No. Are you OK?”
“Oh yeah. Fine. You finished?”
“Um hm…” She places the napkin from her lap on the table. “Ready when you are. Thanks. And remember, we’re splitting the ticket.”
The waitress stops by our table at this moment to drop the ticket on it. Harper makes a grab for the white slip of paper, but I scoop it up first. “On me.”
Tori and her friend are walking toward us. Hell, no. She is not going to ruin what has been a great weekend for me.
I hold out my hand to Harper and she hesitates. If she doesn’t take it, she leaves me standing here like a moron with Tori bearing down on me like a missile. The minute Harper places her small hand in mine, I want to fling her into my arms and kiss her.
My fingers fold around hers and I pull her to her feet.
Pistol’s restaurant is laid back and I head to the register in the lobby, where patrons can also buy souvenir items like shot glasses and t-shirts. I’m hoping to escape a conversation with Tori. My day is obviously on a quick downhill slide when Tori weaves her way through the tables to ensure our paths will cross.
“Hi Leo.” Tori’s body moves forward and for a second, I’m afraid she’s actually going to hug me. I’ve still got Harper’s hand linked to mine, but Tori’s never been very observant.
At the last second, her eyes flick to Harper and then down at our hands. Thank God.
“Hello Tori.” I grit my teeth rather than say more. I want to ask her why the hell she would come here. She hates this place and knows it’s my favorite.
Tori and her friend block our way past and I’m wondering if she’s going to force a conversation.
Finally, she sighs. “I can see you’re leaving. I’ll call you later and we’ll catch up. We have lots to talk about.” Tori steps to the side and looks at her friend. “We can grab Leo and his friend’s table, since they’re leaving.”
Her emphasis on the word ‘friend’ is threatening and leaves me dreading our next conversation. I squeeze Harper’s hand, whether to reassure me or her, I don’t know.
Like a natural disaster, Tori moves away, leaving chaos in her wake. I didn’t think she still had the ability to affect me. Being pissed means I still care, and I fight the anger that bubbles up inside me.
Harper and I walk to the storefront where I pay for our meal. Even though Tori is an entire room length away, I feel her presence inside my head. She’s done exactly what she wanted. Put herself back into my thoughts.
I open the door and Harper walks out onto the sidewalk. “What happened to you back there?”
I glance over at her. “What do you mean?”
“Did you grab my hand because of that woman? Who is she?”
Who is she. Who is she? Answering that question could be a thesis paper. I walk ahead enough to give me some space for a few seconds. Time to get my head in the right place, with Harper. Then I stop walking since I’m being an asshole.
“I’m sorry,” I say and put both hands behind my head, still not able to meet her eyes. “It’s a long story.”
“So tell me.”
“Harper,” I say and take her hand in mine. It’s warm and right. “I grabbed your hand because I wanted to hold it. But I can’t talk about Tori here. Not now. Give me a little time, OK?”
If she were Tori, she’d argue. She’d pout. She’d insist.
“OK. Tell me later, then.” Harper gives my hand a squeeze and meets my stride. My legs are much longer than hers, so I slow to keep our pace reasonable. There are no words between us as we return to the parking lot and get into my car.
By the time I pull into the lot behind our apartment building, Harper’s asleep. I gently wake her and again insist on holding her hand while we walk inside. I pull her into my apartment and she doesn’t resist.
I want to see her sitting among my things, immersing herself in my life like she has been for the past couple of weeks, so subtly that I didn’t even realize she’d become part of it. The development wasn’t anything forced or artificial and that’s what I like so much about her.
“Here,” I say, and lead her to one end of my sofa. I grab a blanket and drape it over her. Her eyes shine with something as she watches me arranging the folds of the soft material around her shoulders. My apartment is chilly and I only want her to be comfortable. But I also like touching the skin of her neck and jaw line.
I reach across and trace her lips with two fingers. Her breath hitches and her eyes flutter closed.
“What are you doing to me?” she asks.
“Nothing you don’t want. What do you want?”
She doesn’t speak. Instead, she pulls me to sit beside her. “I want to know about the girl at Pistol’s.”
“She’s my past.”
“Not really. It seems like she’s your present. She said she was going to call you.” Harper leans her head back and looks at the ceiling.
I sprawl my legs out and sling my arm along the back of the sofa. “I’d rather talk about us.” Our proximity is a cozy, more-than-friends position. I twist a piece of her ponytail between my fingers, wishing I could take the holder out and let her hair fall loose around her shoulders.
“You might say that girl is none of my business. But I don’t know anything about you.”
“Her name is Tori.” I rub my hand over the back of my neck. “We dated for a year. We broke up ten months ago. That’s the story.”
“Short story.” Harper gives me a lazy smile. “Come on. There’s more than that.”
“Tori and I had a bad break-up. Do you like that synopsis better?”
“She was happy to see you today.” Harper eyes me knowingly. She swats my hand so I’ll quit twirling her hair. “You’re distracting me. Tori wants to get back together.”
I imagine the cold, steel vault around my heart. Tori will never have the combination to unlock it ever again. “That isn’t going to happen.”
“Have you told her that?”
“Like a broken record.” I smile at Harper, but she continues to frown as if I’m doing something wrong. “Tori has problems.”
“We all have problems.”
“True. But hers are no longer my concern. I’m only worried about mine and yours. My current problem is I want to kiss you so damn bad that I can’t think of another thing. I want to kiss you when you’re not drunk and you know it’s my lips on yours.”
She shakes her head. “I knew exactly who I was kissing last night. I wasn’t that far gone.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Good. So, let’s try it again.”
“What?” she asks, her eyes wide and dark. “Now? As in this minute?”
I chuckle and lean in so close our breaths mingle. “This first.” I reach around remove the ponytail holder from her hair.
She pulls in air. “Oh.”
There’s a smell of something like raspberries and vanilla that makes me want to bury my face in her neck, but I restrain myself since she looks like a scared rabbit.
You’d think I’d just ripped off her panties or something. A corner of my mouth lifts involuntarily. “It’s only a kiss.”
I thread my fingers through her soft hair and grab the back of her neck to pull her forward. There’s the smallest amount of resistance from her, and then like a dam breaking, she’s meeting my lips.
I’ve never been this hungry for a kiss, for a way to feel how a woman thinks about me. My tongue pushes into her mouth and sweeps forward to tangle with hers. Her mouth is sweet and hot and intoxicating.
If a heartbeat can match rhythm with another, mine is searching for hers. Searching for a reason to find skin upon skin, heartbeat upon heartbeat. I push her gently back on the sofa and cover her body with mine. Her hands skate up, up, up my back and fist my shirt.
I moan into her mouth. Holy kiss of kisses. I silently pray: Please let me have a box of condoms in the bathroom. Don’t let my lack of shopping lists be the downfall of me now.