Jagger Page 3

  We’ll never know.

  And now it’s all gone because the little time I had, has slipped away.

  If only we had chosen a different path...

  In the market, on the street, in the library, or in the park, in the misty mornings, or in the silence of the dusk...

  Maybe you would’ve found me.

  If only we had said the words that burned our lips or lingered in the rain or locked our eyes a moment longer...

  Perhaps I would’ve found you.

  I’ve always sensed you close to me, my love. Ephemeral like the shadow, and the brush of a breeze… Addictive, like the kiss of rain and warmth of sunlight.

  I know everything about you…

  The gentle touch of your hair slipping through my fingers, the softness of your breath fanning over my lips, the warmth of your heart beating next to mine.

  I know the music of your words and the brightness of your smile.

  Because in my mind, I touched your face and kissed your lips and read the story of your eyes…

  A thousand times.

  Life after life, I looked for you and waited for you.

  One day perhaps, but not this time.

  Another life.

  A better life.

  I’ll see you soon.

  I’ll miss you dearly,

  Alena.

  3

  “Are you ready?”

  I glance at the time.

  “It’s only three o’clock,” I say.

  Liv’s eyes crinkle with a smile.

  “Oh, oh... You mean for your birthday party? Why would I need to be ready?” I ask, distracted, my fingers running over the keyboard.

  She sinks into a chair and crosses her legs, her fingers drumming on the armrest. The skinny jeans and vintage T-shirt make her look like a kid out of high school.

  A few unruly locks tumble over her shoulders, a dash of mascara clinging to her curly lashes.

  “Aren’t you excited?” she asks, giving me a playful grin.

  I roll my eyes.

  “Um... Yeah...” I mumble, and she breaks into laughter.

  “You don’t sound excited at all.”

  “No, no. I am... I am...”

  She presses her lips together, her eyes filled with a smile.

  “You look a bit confused,” she says, pointing to my laptop.

  “That’s because I am,” I say, my eyes flying back to the computer screen.

  “Work?”

  “Yeah... Sort of.”

  “Anything I can help you with?”

  “Don’t you have work of your own?”

  “I do, but I’m taking a break now if you don’t mind,” she says, scoffing at me. “What seems to be the problem?”

  “I’m writing an article that’s, um... outside my area of expertise...”

  She gives me a puzzled look.

  “Jonas wants me to try my hand at something other than food, travel, and leisure,” I clarify.

  “That’s good,” she says, excited. “What kind of article?”

  I sigh. Her eyebrows arch slowly.

  “It can’t be that bad,” she says.

  “It’s about love...”

  I pause.

  “So what’s the problem? Have you forgotten how to type?” she tosses at me, amused.

  My eyebrows shoot up.

  “It’s the once in a lifetime kind of love. It’s about finding that one special person who makes you feel whole... all that crap,” I say, jaded.

  I halt again, anticipating laughter, a smirk, or perhaps a roll of eyes.

  She doesn’t say anything.

  “I know... It doesn’t make much sense to me either. Nobody’s looking for that kind of love these days. That’s why it’s so confusing. I don’t want to sound cheesy or ridiculous or worse... Old.”

  She looks at me, serious.

  “I think you’re wrong. People do want that kind of love...” she says.

  “But?”

  “There aren’t that many people to love that way.”

  “That’s precisely the point. For some reason, Jonas insists on this title. Anyway, I’ll figure something out. The other thing is, I don’t know much about it. I’ve never had that kind of experience. I’ve never had the butterflies. I’ve read stories about people doing stupid things in the name of love, but I was never one of them.”

  A smile sprouts on her lips.

  “You think it’s funny?” I ask, grinning.

  “You fret too much, Violet. Just write. It doesn’t matter how much you know. Trust me, most people know way less than you do.”

  “Yeah, probably...” I say, my smile fading away. “There’s something else though. Something I read recently.”

  She looks at me, curious.

  “Yes?”

  “A young woman’s letter to her lover...”

  My voice breaks a little, and I begin to shuffle through a stack of papers, trying to conceal my emotion.

  “Here. This is a copy,” I say pushing the piece of paper to her. “The woman was about our age when she died, and this is what she wrote to the lover she never had the chance to meet.”

  She starts reading, and I swing my eyes to the window. In the distance, clouds gather, brewing a summer storm. I look at her after a few moments just as she places the letter on my desk, her eyes glinting with tears.

  “What if she was right? What if we cross our paths a thousand times and never know?”

  She gives me a small, sad smile, her eyebrows slowly moving up as the corners of her eyes are slanting down.

  “I’m sorry... That was just stupid. Forget about it. I don’t want to ruin this day for you. What time is the party?” I ask, regretful.

  The dimly lit driveway seems much longer than I remember. A faint light coming from the neighbor’s house spreads over my lawn, my long, wobbly shadow crawling over the sidewalk.

  Placing one foot in front of the other, I take one step at a time, testing the ground as if I fear a sinkhole. My heels pull to a sudden stop as I nearly lose my balance.

  I take a deep breath and wait.

  I can do it.

  The breeze blows my long tresses over my eyes as if I need another distraction. I comb my hand through my hair, brush it all back, and raise my eyes, determined to make it to the house.

  Yeah, the driveway definitely looks longer.

  I mostly blame it on the alcohol. Admittedly, I had one drink too many, and truthfully, I’m not used to drinking. That doesn’t mean I didn’t toss it down. It was Liv’s party after all and frankly, I didn’t give a damn it made me feel like shit.

  The thing is, when you rebel, the actions don’t necessarily need to make sense. They only need to make a point. My point, of course, being that I could do whatever the hell I want.

  Yeah... I don’t want to be a human caterpillar. I’ve been that crap for so long. No more. I was the shy kid who turned into the soft-spoken teenager who morphed into a top student and then into an exemplary wife.

  The perfect human caterpillar.

  Fuck that. It worked for Lorraine, and for my mom, but not for me, and it made me bitter.

  Most of my life I haven’t lived a day without appeasing someone. I was my parents’ perfect daughter before I turned into my husband's perfect wife. My parents were happy to hand me over to someone they’d trusted and liked, and my husband was content to claim me, clueless and untouched.

  I didn’t matter.

  It worked wonders for a while, but as the days became emptier and emptier, I turned brittle and old inside. And then one day, I woke up and realized I had no idea who I was. I’d never been on my own. I’d never learned anything about myself. I didn’t know what I could and couldn’t do, what I loved or hated. I’d never made choices only for myself or done something stupid, and I’d never been allowed to fail.

  And now I rebel.

  Pointless and a little too late if I'm honest, but that’s me. My timing always sucked.

  I teeter-totte
r to the middle of the driveway, an idea popping up in my foggy head. I should find a place to get some coffee or... something.

  Yeah, that’s a great idea. I don’t want to go home, Lorraine’s words still echoing in the walls.

  I glance at my phone, swipe my finger on the screen and squint at the little patch of light.

  Looking, looking...

  I’m searching for places that are still open, and a cab to pick me up.

  Keeping my eyes on the phone, I slowly stagger backward when a jolt goes through me as I bump into something hard.

  Who the hell planted a tree in my driveway?

  I jerk back, spinning widely on my heel as I almost fall.

  A surge of adrenaline rams through me.

  “What the fuck?” I snap, my arms flailing in the air, desperate to grab something.

  Anything.

  The man cuffs my wrist and clutches my shoulder, my swaying coming to a sudden stop.

  I step back and blink a few times, my eyes roaming on the bare chest of a tall man.

  What the hell? Am I delusional?

  Dragging my eyes up and down his body, I register the naughty details. The muscular torso, a tattoo on his forearm, the broad shoulders, and then the bumps of his ripped abs.

  A long-sleeved white shirt wraps around his waist, and ties bellow his cute, flat navel. He wears tailored black pants, and the more I think about it, the less sense it makes.

  “Aren’t you supposed to wear that shirt?” I slur, pointing at him, moving my finger up and down.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be somewhere else?” he retorts, yanking his earbuds from his ears.

  He’s tucking his phone into his pocket, and that’s when I notice his ring. Surprise washes over me. I flick my head up and meet his luring eyes.

  “Shit. It’s you,” I say, a smile tickling my lips.

  He studies me for a moment before he shifts his gaze to the hedge behind me as I’m slowly leaning toward it.

  Like a fool, I start laughing, wiggling my fingers at him.

  “What the hell are you doing on my street?” I ask, stumbling through the words, poking at my purse with my phone several times before I finally get the damn thing inside.

  “Naked...” I add, jiggling my fingers at him again, giving him a cute smile.

  Cocking an eyebrow, he brazenly drags his gaze from the tips of my stilettos to the neckline of my strapless dress.

  His lips purse approvingly.

  “Where are you going?” he asks, narrowing his eyes.

  “To get a coffee... You didn’t answer,” I say, wagging my finger at him, and his face lights up with a cheeky smile.

  “I'll get you a coffee,” he says, his arm curling around my waist, slowly nudging me toward the house.

  “No, no...” I say, gently pulling away from him.

  He keeps his arm wrapped around me as I begin to step backwards and lean toward the ground again.

  “I’m not going anywhere, Mister. Not until you tell me, why are you on my street at...”

  I rifle through my bag, pull the phone out and bring it close to my chin. I blink a few times and squint.

  “...midnight.”

  The effort to focus my eyes messes with my balance, and now I’m well on my way to land on my ass. The other arm winds around me.

  “I live here,” he says, serious, his chin pointing to the house behind me.

  His soft, warm breath brushes my lips.

  Mmm, he smells so good.

  Spellbound, I hold his eyes, my hands sliding down his chest, my palms cupping his pecs, kneading gently. His skin is tight, his muscles hard. A dash of electricity rushes through me.

  “You what...?” I ask distracted, a sweet pull tightening inside my belly.

  He studies me in silence as if he senses the pleasure flowing through my body. A nervous chuckle escapes my lips.

  “You can’t live here... Because I do,” I say, pointing a finger to my chest, my logic utterly flawed.

  His eyes follow my finger, smoothly landing on my chest. I look down and gasp. Shit. My red dress is about to tear off my chest.

  I hook a finger beneath his chin, and tip his face up, and then I pull my dress up, struggling to cover my bouncing breasts. His gaze dips again just as my bra slips down for a moment, briefly revealing the top of my mounds.

  It’s only a split second, but long enough to make my skin warm. He raises his eyes as I push his arms away.

  “Let me go,” I mumble, fighting his lock.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” he says firmly as he grabs my arm harder.

  I breathe out a soft laughter.

  “Really? Who do you think you are, young man? I’m doing whatever the hell I want.”

  “That’s not what I was saying. You can do whatever you want, but you’re not going out tonight.”

  “Listen... You, pretty face... You’re not my mom, and you’re not my ex-husband. You can’t tell me what to do. Get it?”

  “Yeah... yeah. I get it,” he says as he snakes one arm around my waist, and the other behind my knees before he scoops me up and strides with me to the door.

  My protest fizzles out fast, and before I know it, I twine my arms around his neck, and hold onto him tight, my fingers kneading his muscles again.

  What is wrong with me?

  He smells fresh and young. So fucking young.

  “How old are you?” I ask.

  “Twenty.”

  “Oh, my God!”

  I gasp and jerk and kick my legs.

  Laughing, he tightens his arms around me.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you? Stop doing this!” he barks at me.

  “You’re so young...”

  “For what? Carrying your wasted body home?”

  I stop wriggling, a few moments of silence slipping between us.

  “I don’t want to go home,” I say with a soft, sad voice.

  “I got that, kitten.”

  He climbs the stairs and lets go of me. I push up to my feet, straighten my back, and brace my hand against the wall.

  “Keys,” he says, holding his hand out.

  I scoop the keys out of my purse and hand them to him. He unlocks the door and pushes it wide open before he grabs my elbow and nudges me inside.

  “Okay, okay... I’m not incapacitated,” I protest, moving as if I am.

  Holding onto him, I turn on the lights. My gaze flicks to him just as his eyes fly off my legs.

  “You live alone?” he asks, looking around.

  “Why?” I ask suspiciously.

  His eyes come back to me, flashing a mysterious smile.

  “No reason.”

  “What about you?”

  “Parents,” he says, evading my eyes.

  “I haven’t seen anyone next door.”

  “That’s because they’re not home.”

  “Oh... Where are they?”

  “Florida.”

  “Hmm... And you?” I ask, sobering up as he grabs my hand and slowly leads me to the couch.

  Without caring to answer, he spins me in front of him, places his hands on my shoulders, and gently pushes me down. My eyes stay locked to his as I lower myself to the sofa, my hands gliding down on him.

  By the time I sit, my fingers are stapled to his hips, and my gaze centers on his groin. Nervous, I look up at him and meet his hooded eyes.

  “What about me?” he asks, his lips slowly curving into a lopsided grin, flashing his pearly white teeth.

  It takes me a moment to regain my focus as I’m trying to remember what exactly we were talking about.

  Looking down at me, he spreads his legs slightly, and tilts his groin forward, his lips pulling apart as well. Teasingly slow, he runs his teeth over his bottom lip, and my heart skips beats.

  A rush of tingles swirls between my thighs.

  Dumbstruck, I stare at him as he curls his fingers around my neck, runs his thumb across my cheek, and deliciously slow, rolls it over my lips.

>   Heat starts eating at my skin.

  Gently, he cups my face, my lips parting in response. Tension grows inside my body. His eyes dip briefly as I clench my thighs and dig my fingers into his muscles, the smile he flashes more than telling.

  Oh... I know this.

  It has never happened to me, but I know what he’s doing.

  Slanting his gaze down again, he registers the slow arching of my back, the hard tips of my breasts, and my fingers stroking his thighs.

  His eyes glint with a mysterious smile before he smoothly pulls away and walks into the kitchen.

  I slump into the couch, my body soft and wet like a noodle.

  “What kind of coffee do you want?” he asks.

  “Any kind,” I murmur, the back of my neck damp with sweat.

  4

  “Your place is lovely,” Liv says, glancing out the window.

  It’s a quiet Saturday morning, not a cloud in the sky. The air is warm and dry.

  The sun is bright, and my neighbors are already at the beach. A soft breeze rolls into the house through the open doors.

  “We can eat on the patio if you want.”

  Liv’s eyes light up with a smile.

  “Okay.”

  She grabs the cups of coffee and the box of donuts as I collect the plates, the brown bag filled with bagels and a small container of cheese spread.

  We set everything on the wicker table. She slips into a chair while I make a second trip and bring out the napkins, forks, and knives.

  “Mmm, this looks good,” she says, fishing a bagel out of the bag.

  I pick one myself and take a seat at the table, eyeing the carb fest on the table.

  “Your neighbor has a pool,” Liv mutters before she takes a bite of the crispy bagel.

  “Mm-hmm,” I say, busy munching on a donut.

  Her eyes stall on Jagger’s pool for a moment, and I stay mum, not keen to share who’s living there.

  “Oh, by the way... Was everything okay last night?” she asks, flicking her gaze to me.

  I freeze.

  “Yeah... Why?”

  I flick the tip of my tongue out, and remove a dab of raspberry jam from my lips and the dash of icing sugar from the corner of my mouth.

  “I think you were butt dialing me,” she says.

  “I was??”

  “Yeah. I heard your voice, but you weren’t talking to me. Someone else was speaking in the background... A man.”