Use Somebody (34 page)

“Keep your eyes closed,” he whispered, and I had to squeeze them a little tighter to ensure they stayed shut.

Another thought formed, too. A flashback of our conversation at dinner tonight, and the way he looked me in the eyes when he said all he wanted was to see me happy. I hadn’t realized until now how badly I needed that—to have a friend without any hidden agendas. Who wouldn’t treat me like a doormat. Who wouldn’t abandon me… period.

But I knew how easy it was to be fooled by words, a clever line intended to win me over. He seemed so genuine… but didn’t they all, at first? A part of me wanted to believe him. But how could I? I’d made it perfectly clear that I wasn’t interested in dating. So why had he tried to kiss me? Wasn’t that an example of putting his motives in front of my own?

I was overthinking this—I knew—but this was important. He was asking me to put my trust in him. The question was: could I?

Halfway through the song, I felt a shift in the truck. He’d moved closer. Once he started to softly sing the chorus, I realized just how close he was. I remained still and kept my eyes shut, drinking in all the sensations around me. The scents of peppermint and spice. The warmth from his breath on my neck. His soft, velvety voice and his promises of caring and comfort.

I stiffened when he gently pushed my long sleeve halfway up my arm. But I did not stop him.

A feather-light touch on my forearm became a light caress. Goosebumps raised on my skin as his fingers delicately traced their way from my inner elbow to wrist, ever so slowly, back and forth again.

There was something in the way he touched me, with just the callused tips of his knuckles, that made me shiver in a way that had nothing to do with the evening temperature. A conduit of warmth, and electricity, and light.

It’d been a long time since anyone had touched me like this, and it felt incredible for just a small stroke of his fingers. I hadn’t realized how much my body was aching for human contact, as if it had been starved to death. And under his hands it seemed to come back to life.

Still humming near my ear, his hand paused briefly after it made another pass to my wrist, then he used one finger to draw tiny patterns in my upturned palm. A circle. A figure eight. It tickled a little.

By the time the song was coming to an end, I noticed Vance’s hand resting on mine, laying palm-to-palm between us. The contact was new and the heat of his skin against mine was alluring, like reaching for a hot mug on a cold winter night. I twisted my hand slightly so that they no longer aligned, then curled my fingers around his. He followed suit and gave me a gentle squeeze. As soon as his long fingers laced themselves with mine, I felt calm, at peace.

When the music faded, the only sound in the truck was our breathing. I opened my eyes slowly, first seeing our hands interlocked between us, then turned timidly to look at Vance. He sat frozen, still looking down at our hands in silent awe. In the glow of the fading sunset, his long eyelashes casted shadows across his cheekbones. As if he could feel my gaze, he looked up and his eyes—deep green and searching—found mine.

The only thought in my mind was a desire for something I called dangerous mere minutes earlier: hope… Hope that he didn’t let go of my hand. Hope that he wouldn’t break the connection and the warmth. Hope that he really meant all those things he said tonight.

But this one link wasn’t nearly enough. It was just a taste, a tiny sip, and I wanted more. My whole body felt cold, like it was being pulled towards the heat radiating from him. All five of my senses called out; reaching, wanting, needing him nearer; as his familiar presence slowly penetrated my walls.

So when he started leaning towards me, instinct took over, and my body moved closer of its own accord. Right then, I wanted him to take me in his arms, to kiss me, to make everything else go away. I wanted to forget about the past and mistakes and tragedy, and to believe—just for a moment—that someone out there really cared.

When our faces were only an inch apart, he stopped, and with a sad smile he whispered, “Still want to tell me that you don’t feel that way about me?”

His question snapped me back into reality. Because I had said that…
days ago.
And now I almost just…

Abruptly I straightened in my seat, speechless. What was wrong with me? Was it Vance’s touch that just made my body shudder? Was it me who moved to hold his hand? How did we get here? I’d been so strong and now—I let him get the better of me. I lost control.

I averted my eyes and stared out my window, cursing under my breath. It was a test, and my failure left me totally exposed.

His eyes burned holes into the side of my skull, challenging me, daring me to refute it again. Now would’ve been a great time to stop holding his hand, yet I couldn’t bring myself to let go. Unable to look him in the eye, I shut mine and rested my temple against the window with a gentle
thunk
. Quietly I mumbled, “This would be so much easier if you just took my word for it.”

He chuckled.

Perfect. Now he was laughing at me.
Smug goober
. How was I going to get him to take me seriously? Although after what I just pulled, how could I expect to be taken seriously? I let him seduce me with his words, his voice, his touch… I became putty in his hands in the length of one song.

Pathetic.

No wonder he was laughing. This was so beyond fixing now.

Growing irritated at his persistence, I tried to pull my hand away. “You never listen—I’m trying to be honest with you—”

“No,” he cut me off, gripping my hand tighter and not allowing escape. “You’re trying to deny what you feel. I could have just kissed you, Rosie, but I didn’t. I get that you’re not ready. But there is something here. Don’t you feel it?” His eyes pleaded with mine, imploring me to admit it. But the moment was over. I shut everything out—the peppermint, those words, his warmth, and sat behind my wall of brick and mortar, glaring at him.

“Why are you so stubborn?” I griped.

“Why are you?” he countered.

“Ugh!” I let out a frustrated grunt and broke our eye contact.

He sighed heavily. “Eventually, when you stop trying so hard to fight it, you’ll feel it too.” With that, he released me.

I glared at my hand, hating it for feeling so bereft upon the loss of contact. I balled it into a fist, squashing those feelings. Maybe Vance actually was a nice guy. But that just made me all the more determined to stay away. Nice guys were the hardest to lose.

“I won’t. And it’s not fair to you.”

“You’ve come a long way already.” He shot me a smile that revealed he wasn’t discouraged in the least. “You’re a mystery to me, Scarlett Rose. But one day I’m gonna have you all figured out.”

* * *

Sleep never claimed me.

Unable to shut my brain off, I laid awake for hours, tossing and turning and mulling over our conversation in his truck.

Tonight Vance had revealed his cards. He cared about me. He wanted my trust. And I think… maybe… he might have been curious about me as more than a friend, too.

I had grown comfortable with our routine: working together, kicking back at Honey’s, laughing about old teachers and crazy customers. We kept an appropriate distance. He had a girlfriend and I had a vendetta. ‘More’ had never been an option. The only thing I had to worry about was his attempts to sneak in a fist bump here or there.

Vance had a way about him that pulled people in. His friendship brought something special to my life that had been missing for a long time. When he was around, I had reasons to laugh again, reasons to come out of my shell. He made me focus on life’s little joys, see all the beauty that I’d been overlooking, and forget about the problems with this world.

Despite myself, I had come to like him.

I scoffed at the irony. Turned out he was not the safety net after all. He had gone from being my one and only trusted friend to being just another guy chasing what he wanted. Bit by bit he was throwing his bait out, patiently waiting for me to take a nibble. I wished I could pinpoint the moment when his motives had changed.

I was torn. Yes, things between us were shifting; they were no longer innocent and simple. But when I was brutally honest with myself, did I miss that?

For some reason, I couldn’t forget how nice it was to hold his hand. And how empty I felt when he let go.

I was once convinced that I could outlast Vance’s persistence with a little thing called willpower.

Oh, if only it were that easy.

No matter how strong I’d tried to be, there came a point where even my stubborn walls were no match for the forces of Vance Holloway. After our moments together the other night, during dinner and then in his truck, it was getting harder and harder to say no to him. He was wearing me down one touch at a time, until I could no longer bring myself to stay away.

That’s why, somehow, I found myself lying on a blanket over soft grass in the middle of the park, looking up at the night sky, next to the man I had failed to keep at a distance.

“It’s the classic fairy tale syndrome,” he remarked. “The prince. The sword fight. The castle. They say guys have a misconception of real women because of the media, but women have unrealistic expectations when it comes to men and romance, too.”

My lips tilted up at his theory.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to living with a beast if he agreed to share his library. But, no. I know what you’re getting at. I may have held that philosophy at one point, but I don’t want the castle or the happily ever after anymore. My idea of the perfect love has changed since then.”

“I already know I’m going to regret this, but what, pray tell, is the perfect love, oh cynical one?”

I ignored his sarcasm. “It’s one hour. One night. Before life comes in and screws it up.”

His nose scrunched. “A one-night stand? That’s your idea of the perfect love?”

“Not a one-night stand… A
moment
. A connection with a total stranger. When the moment’s over, and you never had a chance to learn their flaws or to see the relationship fizzle… that’s the kind of love you never get over. The great
what if.”

“But that’s not real. It’s blind.”

“Exactly.”

He turned his head to face me. “You ever actually been in love?”

“Yes,” I blurted, then turned pink at his doubtful expression. “So what? You have, too. How did that turn out for you?”

He didn’t waver. “It wasn’t meant to be. It wasn’t the real thing.”

I snorted.
He sure had me fooled.
“But it was real for four years. Thank you for proving my point.”

He chuckled. “Cut me some slack, Rosie. It was my first try.”

“Doesn’t change the truth. The perfect love doesn’t endure all or last forever. It exists in a moment. After that, eventually, it always, always comes to an end.”

I could feel his gaze on me. His voice lowered as our conversation took a more serious turn. “What would it take to change your mind?”

I stared up at the night sky, massive and infinite above us. The stars were out tonight, though only a few outshone the city lights. “I’d like to see it done right. Just once.”

“Part of faith means believing without seeing, you know.”

“I’m afraid I’m all out of faith,” I confessed quietly.

“In life? Or God?”

“Maybe both… why else would there be so much suffering in this world?”

He contemplated my question. “I don’t think we have a right to ask God that. There’s enough food and space on this earth for everyone. There’s so much to be thankful for. So much beauty… I think God should be asking
us
why there is suffering in the world. Not the other way around.”

He was right. It was us, people, hurting each other, pushing others down to get ahead. At least, that was the case in my experience. “Okay then. I’ve lost my faith in humanity.”

“But we’re not all bad,” he said. “Sounds like you’re just looking for someone to blame.”

I closed my eyes, despising that I sounded anything like my brother. “Fine, oh wise one. And how would you define the perfect love?”

“I don’t know yet.”

I scoffed and shook my head.

“What? There’s no shame in admitting I don’t have it all figured out yet. But I’ll tell you one thing—real love is more than one moment. It’s a whole
forever
of moments, good and bad. It’s seeing every unlovable detail about a person and loving them anyway. It’s a physical feeling, like there’s no such thing as being close enough. It’s choosing to be with somebody despite every obstacle or excuse you can come up with. It outlasts everything and overcomes all, no matter what, because you never stop fighting for it.
That’s
the perfect love.”

A thick lump lodged in my throat. Those words and concepts were foreign to me, but they touched me all the same.

“But you don’t have it all figured out yet, huh?” I teased. It sure sounded like he knew what he was talking about, to me.

We both grew quiet after that, no doubt both reflecting on our own past loves. I was more than a little jealous he had escaped his first failed relationship relatively unscathed. No solitude and Senses Fail, no cynicism, no drama; just ready to go out there and try again, still fully trusting in his heart.

Then again, maybe I just needed to look beyond their four-year history. A breakup must be easier to get over when it doesn’t end in lies or infidelity or catastrophic tragedy… but simply because you stopped caring.

“Oh look,” I pointed towards the horizon, “Orion’s Belt.”

Following my gaze, Vance propped himself up on an elbow and leaned over to look. He smiled as he spotted those three stars in a row twinkling above us. For a moment, I set aside the gloom of failed relationships and my lost faith, and we silently admired the beauty of the night sky.

Suddenly I became very aware of Vance leaning over me. Our bodies were closer than they should have been, his chest lightly brushing my side. I peeked up and over to admire his features in the dim moonlight. His brown hair looked so soft and thick curling over his ears. I got the urge to run my fingers through it again, just like the time I’d given him a fohawk. That was a nice change for one night, but this suited him best.

Funny thing about perception. All this time I never let myself see this side of Vance. Even as our friendship grew, I’d always kept him in a box—the “friend zone.” He was a goober. My goofy friend. A nice guy. But recently, with his wisdom, persistence and comfort, I was beginning to see him as something more. I was beginning to look at him like a woman looks at a man.

Deep green eyes sparkled beneath impossibly long lashes as he gazed up towards the heavens. His pronounced chin and cheekbones were relaxed in a content smile. Even the small sprinkle of freckles on his nose warmed something inside me. And his lips…
oh my,
those lips. How had I never noticed how perfectly smooth and soft they looked? So pink, and full, and incredibly…

Finally sensing my stare, he lowered his gaze back down to me.

Oh dear…
Had he just caught me ogling his mouth? I wasn’t sure. But like a preteen with her very first crush, I blushed anyway. Just in case.

We laid there facing one another, me on my back and Vance propped up, still as statues. A different kind of tension grew between us as we tried to read the other’s thoughts, the stars long forgotten.

Still braced with one arm, his free hand slowly lifted towards my face. I held my breath as he tucked a stray curl behind my ear, pausing to gently brush my earlobe with the pad of his thumb. We watched each other, both cautious but aware of something happening between us. He didn’t swoop in during my moment of weakness. He was giving me every opportunity to retreat. But I didn’t move to stop him.

His fingertip continued down the line of my jaw. It was a light, simple touch. But after refusing contact for so long, the pleasure it gave me was indescribable. Something bottled deep within me had been starved and neglected for eight long, lonely months. And it wanted out.

Once he reached my chin, he tilted it upwards, lifting my mouth closer towards his. He put his weight on both elbows and held himself over me, cupping my face with his hands. Just holding me like he was holding something precious. Staring down at me as if I was everything he ever wanted.

It was all too much. I had to close my eyes. Even without sight, I could feel his desire. All I could think about was that I had never known intimacy like this, and it’d been so long… so long since I felt close to anybody at all. I was overwhelmed… near tears even. And Vance did all that to me. He made me willing to give a piece of myself that had been locked away. He awakened feelings I’d been too afraid to face.

And he hadn’t even kissed me yet.

My body ached in anticipation, needing more of him and feeling terrified of him all at once. A tiny voice in my mind warned me that once we crossed this line there was no going back. But I shoved it down. Was there still a reason behind it all? Or was I just saying no for the sake of saying no? The fear shrunk a little more with every passing second that Vance’s skin touched mine. In that moment, the only thing that mattered was him holding me like this.

When my eyes finally opened again, our faces were mere inches apart. I matched his imploring gaze, recognizing the mixture of restraint and longing because the sensations I was experiencing were one and the same.

With a slow lick of my lips I gave him my answer.
Kiss me
, I pleaded wordlessly, gazing steadily into his eyes. My reservations were forgotten for the moment. I just needed to feel a pair of lips against my own. This time I wasn’t going to stop him.

Ever so slowly he leaned in. I didn’t close my eyes until the very last second. At last his lips touched mine… gentle, steady and sweet in one lingering kiss.

From the moment we connected, I was lost in a sea of dizziness, my blood rocketing through every inch of my body on a hell-bent mission. It held all the excitement of a first kiss, wrapped in a familiar blanket of Vance—my best friend, someone I cared about and trusted. In his arms was exactly where I belonged. It warmed me from the inside out.

He backed up then, still hovering over me but not touching. Our soft panting floated on the silence as we stared into each other’s eyes. His eyes bounced between mine, assessing, as reality sank in…

Holy fireworks. That just happened. I kissed Vance.

And I was forced to consider that maybe a kiss really was capable of breaking magic spells, because it felt like coming home.

My gaze dropped to his mouth, remembering how perfectly my lips had fit there. And in response it came down hard on mine, with more urgency than before. This kiss wasn’t gentle like the first, it was wild and fervid and passionate. When he deepened the kiss, I couldn’t control the heat that erupted or the small sound that escaped my throat. Both seemed to encourage him.

His hands were everywhere, tangled in my curls, gliding over my face, clutching my shoulders, my arms, any piece of me he could get a hold of. He was practically vibrating with desperation, memorizing me like at any second his ability to touch me would be taken away.

I was just as affected by desire. Every sensation amplified, like seeing color for the first time after living in a world of dull grays. I took a moment to catalogue everything about him that drew me in. The minty taste of his breath, his spicy scent, the agonizing sound of his soft groans, the solid feel of him… everything was intoxicating. My heated skin craved his touch, equally aroused and afraid for the moment to end.

I arched into his arms and let him embrace me fully, pulling him closer as well. Our bodies pressed together until there was not an ounce of air between us. Two hearts thumped wildly at their close proximity, reaching out to feel the beat of one another. Lost in this moment, in this kiss, in us.

* * *

A warm exhale blew the hairs at the top of my head, and a hand followed to smooth it.

“Good morning, gorgeous.”

A smile already on my lips, I slowly opened my eyes and peered into the purple dawn creeping across the sky and chasing away the stars. A few birds had risen early to greet the new coming day with song.

I was still in Vance’s arms, using his chest as a pillow, our legs entwined. The blanket beneath us was damp with dewy grass poking through, but he was so warm. The sight of familiar trees told me we had stayed out all night in our park.

“I’ve been lied to all my life,” he said. “The best part of waking up is definitely not Folger’s in my cup.”

Blush crept across my cheeks as a memory of kissing Vance last night immediately came to the front of my mind. I couldn’t control my smile. The way he held me, the way he looked at me, the way he kissed me was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. My skin tingled again as flashbacks of his hands on me ghosted down my body. We must have been going at it for hours until we finally grew exhausted and passed out.

“Wow,” was all I could think to say. One arm tightened around me while the other played with my hair, lightly running his fingers through my curls. It must have been a mess but it felt so wonderful I closed my eyes again, at peace. And he let out a long, contented sigh.

“Wow,” he agreed.

We laid like that for a few more minutes, awake and embracing, basking in the glow of our newfound closeness. I couldn’t let myself regret it or dwell on costs and consequences yet. Together, in this park, for this moment, I would allow myself to believe we were just a boy and a girl, that relationships were good and that life was simple.