Bar Crawl (7 page)

“T
his really is a nice place, Frankie. Your folks must be pretty proud, huh?” CJ and I had moved from the kitchen to the living room, basking in the gorgeous late afternoon light that always graced the space.

“You’d think,” I deadpanned as I sat on the couch.

CJ sat on the other end, facing me across the empty cushion. “They’re not?”

I tilted my head from side to side. “They are. Well, my mom
really
is. I think she kind of basks in my accomplishments sometimes. She’s always proud of
me
, but I think sometimes she wishes they were
her
victories, you know? Anyway, she probably called fifty people the day I closed on the house. She was so braggy about it.”

CJ chuckled. “Braggy. Is that in the Oxford dictionary?”

“Should be.” I shrugged and laughed, in denial that I was joking about
words
with CJ. “But my dad, while proud, was a little more nervous. Women shouldn’t buy houses alone and all that.” I rolled my eyes, replaying that hours-long discussion in my brain.

“Why’s that? Is he worried about crime or something? This is Hyannis, for God’s sake.”

“Well, there’s that. But, he couldn’t fathom what I’d do if I needed to fix a leaky pipe, or God forbid a door fell off the hinges…” I trailed off, laughing to myself at the insanity of my father’s archaic thoughts. It was like he’d forgotten, in a split second, what a self-sufficient daughter he’d raised.

CJ looked around, then back to me cautiously. “What… What would you do?”

“I’d fix it, you asshole!” I reached across the couch and slapped his shoulder as I laughed.

He put his hands up in mock surrender. “Sorry! You’ll have to excuse me. This is by
far
the strangest day I’ve had with a girl.
Ever.
”

“Have you ever had a
day
with a girl?” I teased.

CJ clicked his tongue and nodded slowly, the corners of his eyes creasing as he smiled. “Fair enough. I guess I deserved that.”

A quick silence filled the room. I’d already proven I couldn’t read a single thought in his head, but I know my brain was swirling with questions. The first being what the hell we were doing chatting in my living room on a sunny afternoon having already made plans to eat dinner here?

“What?” CJ questioned, his voice turning slightly solemn. Seemed he could read my face.

“Why are you such a manwhore?” I blurted out, sounding as serious as I could. Because I was serious.

He knew I wasn’t kidding; his lips didn’t even twitch into a smile. They stayed flat as he ran his tongue across them. Not in the playful, showy way he usually did, either. “There’s no real good answer to that question, is there?”

“I guess not. I didn’t ask to trap you, though. I just…why the antics and the idiot girls—”

“Hey,” he cut in, “they’re not all idiots. In fact, most of them aren’t. They’re just out looking for a fun one night stand, and they know I’m their guy.” He shrugged and leaned deep into the overstuffed back of my couch.

“But
why
are you
their guy
?” I curled my legs to the side and rested my head against the back of the couch, meeting his eyes.

A flash of color ran across CJ’s cheeks as he forcefully rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on,” he moaned. “What do you want me to say?”

“Something real.”

His eyes shot to mine. “I’ve told you a
lot
of real things.”

“Good.” I shrugged. “Then you’ve had practice. Keep going.”

“You won’t believe me if I told you.” His head shook softly back and forth.

“Try me.” My heart raced in anticipation. I wondered if he could be honest with himself about his intentions—whatever they were—let alone be honest with me.

CJ smiled and leaned forward, resting a log-like forearm across the back of the couch. His fingers were inches away from my eyes, but I didn’t move. “There’s no reason.”

I squinted suspiciously.

“Seriously!” His eyes widened. “I’m not searching for anything. I don’t have a love-lost childhood, my parents are great, I’ve got lots of friends and am quite fucking fulfilled, thank you very much.” His tone was barely playful, but not accusing or defensive. “I just
really
like sex and I’m not ready for a relationship. Tell me you’ve never had sex for fun.” He arched an eyebrow.

My neck heated as I thought back to college. “That’s different.”

“Ha!” CJ’s forceful laugh made me jump. “
How
?
How
is it different?”

I clicked my tongue, pulling my head away from the couch and holding out my hands. “Because. I was a silly, hormone-filled college girl. No responsibilities other than to get through my classes in one piece—or the Dean’s List for good measure. That’s what you
do
in college, isn’t it?”

“I think you mean
who
you do,” CJ teased. “Why is it different now, though? Are you not still exploring? Or are you done figuring out who you are and what you want?”

“I’m an adult now. A real one. I have a career that I care about, and I probably shouldn’t be sleeping around. That would complicate my job prospects. Besides, I don’t even
want
to be sleeping around.”

CJ brought one hand up and lowered it slowly, mocking the volume I’d inadvertently taken on. “Calm down. I wasn’t attacking you. Why in God’s name don’t you want to sleep around? Do you have a boyfriend?”

His question startled me. My eyebrows drew in to closely, that I knew if I looked up, I’d see them glaring down at me. “Do I have a—what? Are you serious?”

CJ looked around, his lips parting slightly, as if I’d been the one to ask the ridiculous question. “Yeah…”

“We kissed. Twice. Today.” My words came out in short spurts. I finally put it all together in one fluid sentence. “We kissed twice today.”

“We did.” He grinned. “And both times were amazing.”

I narrowed my eyes, cocking my head to the side. “Do you make a habit out of kissing other guys’ girlfriends?”

CJ shrugged. “It’s none of my business who has a boyfriend.”

My jaw nearly hit my knees as I flew to standing, making sure to smack his shoulder on my way up. “You’re a pig!”

“What?” he yelped back, towering over me as he stood.

I placed one hand on my hip and used the index finger of my other hand to poke his chest. “You don’t care if someone you’re hooking up with has a boyfriend?”

“If they don’t care, why should I? Are you honestly suggesting that I ask any girl who I hit on—or who hits on me, for that matter—if they have a boyfriend? As far as I’m concerned, when they come back to my place, that’s them saying they’re available.”

I froze in place, dumbfounded that this loophole had sucked me in. And swallowed me. “You… Because…” I had nothing. Frustrated, I walked to the kitchen and pulled down a wine glass.

CJ followed quietly, leaning against the island as I poured a glass of Riesling and took a long sip.

“I don’t intentionally go after girls who I know have boyfriends…if that helps,” he offered while he watched me.

My back was turned, but I could feel his eyes on me. I could hear it in his voice when his eyes reached my hips. A low purr seemed to blanket his words for a split second.

“And,” he continued, “if you’ll recall, I told you that the first night I saw you I didn’t hit on you specifically because I thought you were with your boyfriend. I’m not a total dickhead, Frankie.”

“Sorry,” I said as I set my glass down and turned around. “I’m just trying to reconcile the CJ in the bar with the CJ in the coffee shop who told me he’s writing a book.”

He twisted his lips with a light look in his eyes and patted from his chest down to his waist. “One and the same. I gotta say, though, I’m starting to get a little offended about your opinion of me.” His face fell slightly, sending my stomach with it. I hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings.

“Look,” I replied as I walked toward him, aiming to turn the situation around with sarcasm, “you’re offensive sometimes.”

CJ let out a raucous laugh that vibrated the counter beneath my hand. “I’m serious, though. Do I really come off like that much of a dick?”

I waved my hand through the air. “Only to onlookers,” I chided.

CJ grabbed the dishtowel near him and lightly whipped my hip with it. “Smartass,” he teased. “Let’s start on those scallops. I’m starving.”

I looked at the clock on my stove and realized more than an hour had passed since we’d been back at my place. In that whole hour he had managed not to hit on me. And I was a little unsure how I felt about that.

T
here we were, joking in her kitchen together. I think the last girl I joked that much with was my cousin’s best friend, Ember. They’d played in a band together for a couple of years and she thought I was horrid. So naturally, I’d taken every chance I could to remind her of why she thought that. She’d tease me for being vile, and I’d get on her for being such an uptight princess. I’d even called her Rapunzel for a while, which earned me plenty of dirty looks.

Still, apart from Ember and, of course, Georgia, joking around with girls wasn’t something I ever did. I took women
very
seriously—despite how it might look from the outside. I couldn’t help it with Frankie, though. Maybe I was relieved that she was finally giving me more than a few minutes at a time to speak, but I finally felt like I had some leverage.

Now that I had it, though, I wasn’t sure what to do with it. Watching her move around the kitchen, listening to her speak, and smelling a sweet and airy fragrance from her skin as she walked by left me with this weird feeling in my chest. I don’t know why I was surprised that I seemed to be falling for her. Even from the first time I hit on her, it felt different.

“What?” Frankie said, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Hmm?” I replied, trying to cover up that I’d been lost in thought.

“You’re staring.”

“Oh,” I sighed, “I was just thinking.”

“Is that tiring for you?” She stuck out her tongue for a quick second, then went back to the frying pan.

I chuckled. “Funny. I was actually thinking about how the night I hit on you…the first time…I was hoping you’d turn me down.”

I couldn’t read her face, since she was intently cooking the scallops, but I watched her shoulders tremble against a chuckle. “Why were you hoping I’d turn you down?”

“I wanted you to be different,” I admitted.

Frankie turned off the stove and moved the pan onto an inactive burner as she slowly slid the scallops onto a plate. She wasn’t laughing anymore. “Oh?” She swallowed hard. “How so?”

I shrugged in disbelief. I couldn’t keep my damn thoughts to myself around her. “I don’t know.”

“Maybe Playboy CJ is ready for a little more than a one night stand, and that scares him?’ Her voice was the pitch of a teacher asking a student if they’d like to share their secret with the whole class. She smiled almost mischievously as she turned to the island and handed me a plate full of seared scallops and asparagus.

I shook my head. “No, that’s not it.”

“Oh.” Frankie’s lips pressed into a straight line and she seemed to avoid looking at me for a few seconds. Inside her downcast eyes, I swear I saw disappointment. She looked up with a tight smile and gestured to my plate. “Try it. Tell me how you like it.”

I wanted to correct myself, but I wasn’t sure how. I wanted to tell her that I was, in fact, looking for something
more
, but I couldn’t, because I didn’t know what
more
was. Instead, I tasted the buttery heaven of her scallops and moaned in appreciation.

“You like?” she asked hopefully, sliding a scallop into her mouth.

“Jesus,” I moaned again, “this is like food porn.”

Frankie coughed as she laughed between bites. “Always back to the sex with you, isn’t it?”

I shrugged, refusing to open my mouth any further than necessary to allow food in. It would only cause the grave to grow deeper, and I had to buy some time to figure out how to get out of the spot I’d already put myself in.

After several minutes of silence, broken only by my sounds of gratitude and satisfaction over the food, Frankie spoke up as she stared into her wine glass.

“Do you think you’re a sex addict?” she asked in what appeared to be complete seriousness.

I nearly choked on my last piece of asparagus. “Excuse me?”

“I’m serious.”

“I can tell.” I wiped my mouth and set the napkin on my plate. “But why?”

She shrugged, looking almost timid about the question. “You seem like such a nice, normal guy. I mean, college and the computer degree. You’ve got money and a successful band career, and you don’t appear to do drugs or be an alcoholic. But…the women. There is
always
a woman on your arm. Typically a different one. I’m willing to bet there’s a well-worn walk-of-shame path from your door to nearly every bar parking lot on the Cape.”

My eyes must have bugged out several inches, because she instantly covered her moth.

“Shit!” she yelled into her hand. “I’m not usually this rude. I promise. I don’t even swear this much.
Ever.
I’m a teacher for … Jesus…” She stood, taking our plates with her to the sink. After dropping them in the basin, she stood with her hands on the edge of the counter. She titled her chin down and took a deep breath.

Leaving my seat, I walked over to meet her and placed my hand in the middle of her lower back. I’d been meaning to do that. “Don’t be sorry. You’re right, you know. Until today, you’ve only seen that one side of me. I can’t be mad at you for drawing painfully obvious conclusions, can I?”

“Why are you showing me the other side? The writer side. The articulate side. Especially…” Frankie looked up at me as she trailed off, seeming to consider if she wanted to continue her thought.

“Especially what?” I refrained from kissing her again, like I so badly wanted to. I wanted to listen to what she had to say.

“If you don’t want a girlfriend.” Frankie chewed her lip as she brought up my insinuation from earlier that a girlfriend was the last thing I wanted. “People only share things they usually try to hide with their friends or significant others. Do you want to be friends with me? Is that what…all this…is about?”

I exhaled sharply—almost comically—through my nose. “I don’t want to be friends with you.”

Frankie turned from the counter then. I didn’t move the position of my hand, which meant once she was facing me, my hand was now resting on the soft curve of her waist. She kept her eyes on mine and I watched color bleed into her cheeks as if someone had a dropper of red coloring somewhere and dripped some on her skin.

“Then,” she said softly, “what do you want to be?” She swallowed hard, and I did the same, unable to look away from her.

The sliver of air between our bodies was so thick with anticipation; I knew I had to either kiss her or back away to avoid the suffocation that threatened. There was a high inside that moment, though—one I’d never experienced before. I barely ever paid attention to kissing girls, never mind the moments leading up to the kiss. I almost wanted to stay there forever with Frankie—suspended in the moment of our expectations—before any of them could be put to the test. She blinked, though, and reminded me that I had a move to make, and I’d better make the right one.

“I want to kiss you again,” I admitted in a whisper, barely recognizing my own voice. It sounded the same, I guess, but the words themselves were unfamiliar to my tongue—their meaning causing it to swell slightly as I leaned in.

Frankie’s lips parted as mine brushed up against hers. Before the kiss was complete, her mouth moved against mine. “You scare me,” she whispered, a slight tremble behind it.

“You scare
me
,” I whispered back as I moved my hand to the back of her neck and pulled her mouth against mine.

There was a moan. Not completely from her, and not totally from me. It was just the release of the moment between us, fleeing into the atmosphere around us in relief as we took our time with each other. No crowds. No sidewalks. And, for the first time in my life, my second thought
wasn’t
to take off her clothes.