Seven (6 page)

Me:
Here’s my address. Make it SEVEN.

At 6:59 P.M. the doorbell rings. I watch my eyes roll at Casen’s promptness in the reflection of the mirror next to my door as I finish applying my fire engine red lipstick. Rolling it around, I ensure every inch of my lips are covered. I take my time, making him wait, and finish up before finally opening the door at exactly seven P.M.

My steady nerves falter.

I wasn’t prepared.

My eyes trail up his body. His feet, donning the same boots he was wearing at Jedi’s last night; one shoe lace looser than the other. His dark-washed jeans, looking as though he ironed them just for the occasion, are straining to hold his large bulge beneath the zipper. Lifting my gaze, I find his chiseled chest suffocating in the long sleeved, navy blue button up shirt. The sleeves are rolled up just below his elbows which are currently leaning into the door frame.

When my eyes meet his, he is giving my tight, black dress the same once over I just subjected his body to. I watch his tongue slide over his lips, and my heart immediately starts to race faster than it did in the bar. I have to take a few calming breaths before I can speak, but he beats me to it. “Embyr,” he calls my name, danger laced in his tenor, as his arms fall to his side. “You look fucking delectable.”

My skin prickles, making my nipples harden. The tightness of them brings me back to the here and now.
I can’t let him have this effect on me
. I reach over and snatch my purse off of the end table, ready to leave, not giving him the opportunity to come inside.

He smirks, stepping aside, and looking into my apartment. “Moving?”

I turn around, finding Trinity’s boxes everywhere. “No. My roommate is.”

“The girl you were with last week?”

I nod and he allows me to pass but not hesitating to place his hand on the small of my back. Walking with newfound purpose towards the elevator, I ignore the burning his touch is giving me. He says nothing else as the metal doors open and we step in. I take my place in the back corner, leaning on the rail, and watch him press the first floor button before he spins around to face me. “If it’s ok with you,” he starts. “I want to take you somewhere kind of special to me.”

I smile. “That sounds great.”

He just nods, taking his own corner of the confined space, seemingly losing all of his previous confidence. Silence surrounds us and thoughts swirl around in my mind as I watch him. Here in the florescent lights, he looks the same as he did a decade ago. His high school muscles are amplified ten years and, if I didn’t completely hate him and his friends for what they did to me, I might still have that deep-rooted crush I used to have on him.

My freshman year—Casen was the one. The one that made me want to go to school every day. I had his name all over the insides of my notebooks. I would watch him walk down the hall with the PITCREW, day dreaming that he would come to my locker and kiss me, making all of my teenage fantasies come true. He never did. He was oblivious to my existence. He probably didn’t even know my name. That was until Ian and my “date.” Thus, the reason why we are here today.

Even if he didn’t participate in the “make Annie’s life hell” games, he is still just as guilty.

Guilt by association.

“Why are you so quiet now?” I ask him, breaking the barrier of silence.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he pierces me with the dark ocean storm brewing beneath his eyes. “I’m trying really hard to be a gentleman when all I really want to do is pin you up against the fucking wall.”

My breathing hitches at his words, and I swallow down the nervousness trying to build in my throat. I feel the blood rush to my cheeks.

“You’re a tough guy to pinpoint.” I observe.

“How so?” he asks, rubbing his chin with his thumb and pointer finger.

“Last week, you were aggressive. Yesterday, you seemed sweet. Tonight, you are a bit of both.”

He laughs. “I guess I’m a bit of everything. You know the ‘gentleman in the street but a freak in the sheets’ kind of guy.”

The air thickens around us with sexual tension. The doors pull apart, cutting the pressure. I watch the right side of his lips pull into a smirk as though he thinks he has affected me. He almost did.

Game on.

Taking a deep, confident breath, I breeze past him, grazing the growing erection begging to come out and play. “I guess you missed your chance.”

“For what?” he asks from behind me.

I stop mid-stride and turn halfway, meeting his stare. “To pin me against the fucking wall.” I can feel it as much as I hear the groan that emanates from between his lips, but the return of his cockiness has propelled me towards my mission once again.

We arrive thirty minutes later to North Avenue Beach. A popular spot during the summer but, right now, it’s pretty void of any beach goers. The wind is cooler by the lake, and I don’t say a word as Casen opens up his trunk and pulls out a few items. I offer to hold the blankets and sweatshirt so he can carry, what looks to be, a very heavy cooler. We walk the short distance and once we arrive at the sand, I bend down and pluck my shoes off of my feet, dangling them by my fingertips. Casen leaves his on, and once we take a few steps toward where Casen is leading us, the wind picks up, and a cold shiver runs through my body. I adjust one of the blankets so it shields me from the harsh cold. I’m not dressed for this kind of weather; I was unsure where he was taking me.

Casen stops just thirty feet from the shoreline, setting the cooler down, and taking the dark, purple blanket from my hands, before laying it down on the ground. The wind starts to die down, but I know that, at any moment, the blanket could fly away. He grabs my hand, leading me on top of the soft material and helps me sit down. I allow my legs to stretch out in front of me, and he covers them with the other, plaid blanket.

“I brought the sweatshirt for you, as well,” he tells me from above. “I would have had you change but I just love the look of that dress on you.”

I laugh. “You’re not going to see much of it,” I respond, pulling the sweatshirt over my head. “I’ll be covered up.”

He sits down dangerously close next to me, pushing my hair behind my ear. “I know what is under there. I’ll use my imagination.”

I shiver at his words and he pulls back, just staring at me. “What?” I shift, feeling a bit self-conscious under his gaze.

He shakes his head. “Nothing.”

I scoff. “It can’t be
‘nothing’
if you are staring at me like that.”

He smiles, running his thumb from my left temple to the curve of my jaw. “You just look familiar is all or maybe that you remind me of someone.”

I attempt to hold my composure but my body stills and my heart skips over a nervous beat.
Could he recognize me? Was I stupid to think he wouldn’t?

“That’s not a bad thing,” he says, cutting my internal freak-out short.

“Oh!” I say, my voice surprisingly high. “No. I didn’t think it was bad. I just hear that a lot.”

Casen leans forward, lifting the top of the cooler and starts pulling out
Tupperware
containers of food. That would be something, huh? Two women, who look like you, walking around. I think one of you is all that the male species can handle.” I watch his smile as he goes to work setting out the grape, cheese, crackers, and some sandwiches down between our legs. That smile could bring me to my knees with the flash of his perfect teeth and deep dimples. I don’t think he ever even realized how many girls fell for him because of it.

He pours me a glass of wine and hands it over. He flips the cooler top over, exposing drink holders to set our glasses down. I take a long sip, allowing the coolness to slide down the back of my throat before I speak. “So, Casen.”

He tilts his head, and watches me while making us each a plate. “So, Embyr.”

“What do you do?” I ask, trailing my fingers along the rim of my glass. Something I come to find as a habit.

“I work for the Chicago Fire Department. I’ve been there for about six years.” He smiles pensively, showing how much he loves what he does.

“So, what… you rescue kittens from a tree for a living,” I joke.

He chuckles, his eyes glistening against the candlelight. “Something like that.” Casen sets a plate on my lap. I put my wine glass down and sit up. He does the same and then asks, “So, what do you do?”

I finish the two grapes I shoved in my mouth before answering, “Up until a few days ago, I worked for Strickland Consulting. I interviewed for a job the other day, but it turns out, he no longer needed someone anymore.”

My curious eyes watch as he halts a cheese-topped cracker halfway to his mouth before slowly placing it back onto his plate. “Strickland Consulting?” he asks his voice deep. “As in Patrick Strickland?”

I try to appear indifferent, my free hand coming up over my heart. “That’s the one. You’ve heard of it?”

His stare pierces me, and if it were a knife—I’d be dead. This look is something that I wasn’t expecting. It’s cold. Angry. It could make any man cower in a corner. “Yeah, I’ve heard of it.” The tension in his voice is unwavering. “I went to school with that asshole.”

I give him a fake chuckle, attempting to lighten up the suddenly tense mood. “I guess you two didn’t get along then, huh?”

I knew that they didn’t like each other anymore. I know something happened after high school that caused them to part ways, but I never found out what it was that did their friendship in.

“No.” Casen shakes his head. “We were great friends in high school . . . up until junior year.”

My brows furrow in confusion. Junior year? That was the year they all started to fuck with me. That was the year they started ruining my life. “What happened?” I try to ask casually, but the thought of finding out what took place between the two of them has me anxious.

He breathes out a sigh of disgust. “We didn’t see eye to eye. I mean we hung out together on the weekends, but he was a bully. Did some pretty disgusting shit to a girl we went to school with and our so-called friendship was never the same.”

I don’t say anything as I wait for him to continue. Maybe he will take some of the blame for not helping me.

He doesn’t.

“I’m sorry that happened,” I deadpan.

Casen leans back, picking his food up again. “Not your fault. Just crazy how small the world is.” He shoots me his signature smile. “Who would have thought that the woman I’ve spent many nights, going to sleep thinking about, worked for that tool?”

“Not me,” I joke. But for a brief moment, I’m intrigued, wondering what he does when he thinks about me at night.

“So, why until a few days ago?” he asks, picking up his glass and taking a long sip.

I shrug my shoulders again. “I guess he never stopped doing disgusting shit. They arrested him for stealing client’s money.”

His eyes go wide as he chokes on his soup. “Serious?”

“Serious.”

He shakes his head, pieces of his hair falling onto out of place. “I guess karma is a bitch.”

“I hope so,” I mutter under my breath.

He picks up his sandwich and asks before taking a bite, “Do you have to find a new job right away?”

“It’s not that I have to find a new job. I want to,” I tell him. I don’t need the job, necessarily. Wesley’s hush money keeps my bills paid pretty well. I just want something to keep my mind busy.

“If you’re interested,” he begins, but trails off. His eyes watch me, maybe to see if he is about to over step. “The police department, next door to the firehouse, is looking for an administrative assistant.”

I smile widely. “I’d love to get that information.”

Casen purses his lips. “With that smile, I’m not sure I want to give it to you,” his voice, taunting.

“Why’s that?” I tease back, leaning in.

“Those police officers aren’t bad looking guys. I wouldn’t want you to get rid of my sorry ass for a boy in blue.” he muses.

“We’ve only been on one date.” I shrug nonchalantly.

“Well, I know I want more.”

“And, if I don’t?”

He laughs, his eyes crinkling. “You do.”

“You’re cocky,” I say, amused.