Complex Kisses (Here & Now Book 1) Read online

  “What was?”

  “Seriously? The way that clerk was flirting with you?”

  “She was? I didn’t notice. I was just happy we got you out without any trouble.”

  “Eric, she asked you for your phone number.”

  “Yeah? Isn’t that normal for a hotel?”

  “Why would that be normal? You weren’t even on the guest list, the room was under my name and they already had my number. And I can assure you, she did not lick her lips like that when she asked for my ID at check in.”

  “Huh. I guess it’s a good thing that you wouldn’t let me give it then.”

  “You think? Lecherous whore. What kind of woman does that? Hits on a man who’s clearly taken?”

  Taken. She doesn’t realize the magnitude of the truth behind her statement. I am completely taken by her. But she gets a wild panicked look when the words leave her mouth. Adorable.

  “Not that you’re taken. I didn’t mean it like that …” She tries to cover her slip-up. It doesn’t even faze me. I love that she wants to lay claim to me. Makes me half-way hard all over again.

  “I don’t know - I seem to recall something about a secret club. If I remember correctly, I was given full rights and privileges as part of my membership,” I say, taunting her as I catch her around the waist. Pulling her to my side, I speak truthfully when I tell her, “I’m yours as long as you want me, beautiful.”

  Her soft smile and beautiful blush let me know she’s happy with my declaration. Her confident stride as we walk into the café, my arm still wrapped securely around her, emphasizing her contentment.

  After the past twenty-four hours, it doesn’t feel like I’ve made a big admission. We’ve already shared a lot of intensely private thoughts and feelings with each other. Telling Jamie that I don’t want anyone else right now is just a given, in my mind. How could I possibly want anyone else when she’s around? The only thing I want is more of her. More of her mind, a lot more of her body, and I think I may want to take a part of her soul as well. I feel like I’m going to need a piece of her to keep with me when it comes time for her to leave.

  She wasn’t lying about the coffee. It’s better than average and after days of nothing but hospital sludge, it hits the spot perfectly. I’m also very happy to see that she doesn’t bother with one of those frou-frou latte, whipped foamy things with all the whip cream and drizzle crap on top. No, Jamie has a real coffee – dark roast with just a bit of cream and sugar in it. Coffee choice is probably not something most people would use as a judge of character but to me it says a lot about a person. Especially if what you order is ninety percent sugar and you call it coffee. That I can’t handle. Just admit that it’s a pop substitute and we’re fine. Calling it coffee is sacrilegious.

  With the bagels and coffee filling us up, the atmosphere is once again relaxed and content. My original goal of using Jamie as a distraction from my troubles has worked so well, I’ve almost forgotten entirely about the obligations I have waiting for me at the hospital. Not that I could ever forget about Caleb but my worry over him seems to have diminished. I have this odd sense of optimism that’s filled me up. I have no idea where it came from, or how long it will last. But I feel it - somewhere deep in my soul, I just know he’s going to be okay.

  “So, what’s the plan for today?” I ask.

  “I don’t know. Shouldn’t we be heading back to the hospital?”

  “Well, I was thinking. My brother and sister should be here by now. Caleb’s going to have company all day and he’s still got four more days until his transplant. Once we hit Day Zero I won’t be able to leave. At least until he’s out of isolation. I’m going to be caged in that hospital for days, possibly weeks after that.”

  “Day Zero?”

  “Yeah. Transplant day. We’re on a countdown. Like we’re dropping a fucking bomb or something.”

  “Well, that’s really ominous isn’t it. Sorry, I’m just ignorant to the whole thing. You say transplant and I picture blood-dripping organs, ice packed into coolers.”

  “It’s a bone marrow transplant. He’ll get an infusion into his center line – that big ugly catheter tube sticking out of his chest. And then we sit and wait and hope that the stem cells from the bone marrow start making new white blood cells for him.”

  “And he has to be in isolation?”

  “For a while. Infection is a really big risk. It’s all a waiting game. He’ll probably need a couple of blood transfusions, and he’ll get antibiotics as well. But it takes weeks before the new cells start to form.”

  “Wow. He’s such a brave kid.”

  “He is. But my point to all of this - until Day Zero, I’m kind of useless. Maybe you and I could spend some more time together. We could stay out in the world a little longer. The hospital will still be there tomorrow.”

  “I like the sound of this idea. But I’d really like if you’d call and talk to Caleb first, just to be sure.”

  And so I do. When Caleb hears I’m spending time with Jamie, he responds with, “You better be talking about me the whole time”. He also makes me promise to bring her by, first thing tomorrow morning.

  Maybe it’s completely irresponsible. Maybe it’s stupid of me to be so cheerfully optimistic. Maybe I’m actually in really huge denial. Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Part of my day-to-day living has been to focus on the important things in my life. Today, spending this finite time with Jamie, feels gravely important. Knowing our secret club meeting could end just as quickly as it began, drives me to exploit the moment as much as I possibly can. And after this morning, things feel too perfect to fuck it all up with the depressing grey walls of that hospital.

  The sun is shining. The spring weather feels more like early summer. Life outside the hospital is vibrant and active. I need this. I need to be out where I can feel like a real person, instead of a zombie. I need to watch Jamie as she slowly sheds her fears and anxieties, and walks majestically into the world of the living. The world of the sick and dying will still be there, waiting. Jamie and I aren’t dead yet. We just need to remind ourselves of that.

  Jamie happily accepts when I suggest the beach for an excursion. As much as I enjoyed the little patch of forest that she took me to yesterday, I want to see the lake. I haven’t been to the water once in the five months I’ve been here. Considering my parent’s home is only a five-minute walk from the beach, it seems a little ridiculous that I haven’t managed a trip there on my own.

  “Do you think it’s too early for swimming?” I ask Jamie, as we stand on the boardwalk, looking out into the smooth, calm waters.

  “Ummm yeah,” she says, like I should know better. “You’d freeze your nuts off.”

  “You make it sound so enticing,” I joke.

  But, joking aside, the sun is hot and the water looks tempting.

  I was surprised to see so many people out in the middle of the day, in the middle of the week. Doesn’t anyone in this place work? But Jamie says it’s normal for this time of year. I guess they’re all as tempted by the nice weather as I am. Maybe they’re all hiding from work and school, the way that Jamie and I are hiding from the hospital.

  “I think I’m going to chance it.” After a few minutes of silently staring at the calm water, the sun beating down on our backs, I’m ready to dive in.

  “What?”

  “Come on, how many opportunities do you get to do something fun like this?”

  “Fun? You think jumping into an ice bath is fun? Eric, there’s no way you’re dragging me into that lake. Besides, we’re fully clothed.”

  “Jamie, Jamie, Jamie. I’ll make a deal with you.”

  “No! No more deals!”

  “I seem to recall our last deal working out in your favor. How many orgasms were involved? Two or three?”

  “Eric!” She looks around wildly, like someone might be listening in on our conversation. “That was different. Besides,” she says in a harsh whisper, “our last deal worked out in your favor too. I highly do
ubt this one will be enjoyable for either of us.”

  “So quick to assume. You know what they say about assuming …” I tease. “You can always say no, but you at least have to hear what my offer is first.”

  I can already see her getting ready to object again.

  “The deal is; you agree to getting in that water with me.” I hold up my hand to stop her attempt to interrupt. “You only have to go up to your knees. You make it that far with me and then later, when we head over to your dad’s place, I’ll help you make some new memories of your childhood home.”

  She looks a little skeptical of this offer - so I throw in an added bonus. “We could give that cozy little twin bed of yours some action. I bet I can fuck you hard enough to break that tiny bed. Want to find out?”

  She’s blushing again, and I don’t think it’s from the heat of the sun. And there goes the bottom lip, right between her teeth. Shit, if she’s not careful, I’ll be dragging her into the water and trying to make her come at the same time. Then, I’ll be dragging her to the bed and do it all over again.

  “Well, beautiful? What do you say to that deal?”

  “I think you’ve got your work cut out for you, baby,” she says lustfully. “My childhood bed is a double, not a twin.”

  Laughing, we race each other down to the shore. In no time, we’ve tossed our shoes and socks aside. Jamie tries delaying a bit by taking time to roll up her pant legs. When I hoist her up over my shoulder in a fireman’s carry, she squeals her protest. Only seconds later, it’s me wanting to squeal in protest.

  Fuck, that water is cold!

  “Shit!” I yell out, Jamie still up over my shoulder, is unaffected by the frigid temperature.

  Quickly, I make my way further out, until the water is up to my knees. The cold feels like a million tiny knives poking at my legs. I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from swearing out more obscenities.

  “What’s the matter?” She taunts, “Is the water a little chilly?”

  “Why don’t you find out?” I grunt, tipping forward, dumping Jamie out of my hold.

  “Shit!” She yells out as she hits the water, feet first.

  I’m not a total asshole – I didn’t throw her in – but she stumbles a bit on her landing and her ass hits the water before I can grab onto her, steadying her on her feet. But, even without her awkward landing, the water still hits her mid-thigh. Guess I didn’t really calculate for our height difference.

  “Motherfucker! Holy crap that’s cold!” She laughs and yells at the same time. It’s the foulest language I’ve heard out of her mouth, and it’s completely adorable. But I’m in just as much pain as she is. My balls are nowhere near the water, but they’re in jeopardy of freezing off, just like she predicted.

  “Sorry!”

  As I step toward her, I’m determined that I’m going to carry her back out of the lake of ice, when the little devil splashes me. Right in the face.

  “Oops, sorry,” she says, sarcastically.

  That’s it - she’s done for now. Deal or no deal, she’s getting it. When I bend to splash her back she takes off, running as quickly as she can through the frigid water.

  “I don’t think so,” I yell as I stride easily toward her. Height advantage has me easily catching her. Scooping her back up into my arms, I run back toward the beach, making sure to kick up as much surf as possible, soaking us both in the process.

  Our antics and wild, crazy laughter have attracted a bit of an audience. As we make it back to the sand we’re given varying looks of bewilderment and humor. Only one weirdo leers at Jamie in her wet t-shirt, but he doesn’t linger long after I hit him with my best, I dare you to, scowl.

  Most of the onlookers disperse when they realize we’re okay. We’re not being eaten by an imaginary lake monster - we’re just afflicted by our own stupidity.

  One older couple sticks around, watching us as we shake ourselves off like wet dogs, jumping around to warm up.

  “Looks like you were having fun,” the lady calls out to us.

  “I’m not sure if getting hypothermia can be classified as a good time,” Jamie laughs.

  Ignoring Jamie’s sarcasm, the lady turns to her husband. “Remember when we use to fool around like that?” Her tone, full of nostalgia.

  “What do you mean?” The old guy questions, playfully. “I chased you around the condo just last night.”

  “Oh, yes! That was fun.” I hear her respond slyly as they wander away. “Still, it’s nice to see young people being so carefree.”

  Carefree? Watching Jamie as she pulls her wet hair up into a messy knot on the top of her head, delirious smile plastered to her face, makes me feel more laid back and happy than I ever have. I realize, it’s not just Caleb’s illness that has me living an uptight and caged in existence – my life before he got sick didn’t leave any room for spontaneity. I haven’t been truly carefree since I was a kid, probably close to Caleb’s age. It’s a nice feeling to just let go. To put the worries aside for a moment. To not have a plan in place for every minute of every day. It may not be possible for Jamie and I to be completely carefree, but for the moment everything feels right. As long as we can keep ignoring the cloud looming on the horizon, everything else can be sunny and bright.

  Taking Jamie’s hand in my own, I drag her back up the beach to the boardwalk.

  “Come on, beautiful girl. I owe you.”

  * * *

  We spent the rest of the day with Eric trying to make it up to me for his water torture. I didn’t bother telling him that polar bear dips and dares with friends to see who’d be the first into the ice-cold water were annual events for me, growing up. May is actually a little late in comparison to most years in the past. And even though it’s been years since my last Hypothermic Polar Plunge (yes, that is literally the name of the event), today’s chilly water romp made me feel like an old pro.

  Eric seemed so intent on doing nice things for me – who was I to take away his repentance? He took me for a second round of coffee, to help warm me up, and spent hours strolling around the city, finding all my old haunts as well as discovering all the new places that sprouted up in the years since my departure. It’s amazing how many things have changed here. Yet, no matter how different things may look, it still feels exactly the same as the day I left.

  There’s a familiarity here, like a nostalgia. But it’s also much more. Something indescribable, like an odd sense of belonging. I don’t want to examine it too deeply but enjoy feeling it, regardless.

  We spent a lot of time talking too. Most of it was about basic things like music, movies, food, and hobbies. Eric is now painfully aware of my obsession with old school, cheesy romance novels. He now knows, if I see a book with a Fabio-looking man painted on the cover, I can’t pass it up. I endured at least fifteen minutes of bad jokes about searing loins and heaving bosoms. Of course, I couldn’t let his overwhelming knowledge of romance terminology go unrecognized. I threw a few bad jokes of my own right back at him.

  It wasn’t all light fun, though. We talked about meaningful things as well. He asked more about Hunter and my job – agreeing to disagree on how I should handle my boss. With Eric’s approach, I’m relatively certain that I’d end up unemployed. I’m not happy at work, but I’m not sure now’s the time to do anything about it. We talked about his old job too, and his sense of obligation to do the things he thought his parents wanted.

  It was odd for me to spend so much time just talking with someone. I feel like I haven’t had a real conversation in forever. Maybe that’s what happens when you’re a mom and all the other moms just want to talk about bedtime routines and play-date rules. Or maybe it’s just that I haven’t bothered making any real friends in the last ten years. One thing’s for sure - I’ve been starved for authentic, non-parenting conversation.

  There were topics that we definitely avoided, though. We didn’t mention anything about hospitals, or cancer. Next steps, futures, and moving on were not any part of our disc
ussion. We ignored all those big, important and impossible things. We focused on the things that made us feel good, the things that we had already come to terms with, the things we could manage.

  We also did a lot of hand holding. And kissing. Lots, and lots of kissing. Kissing him has become one of my new favorite pastimes, right above eating and arguing with Hunter but just below breathing.

  When we had enough of walking, we rescued our vehicles from the hotel parking lot and made our way to my dad’s house. I wasn’t as nervous or unsure going back to the house as I was the first time we were here. But it did still feel a bit odd walking through the door like I own the place. I hadn’t really put much thought into it, but I suppose I will own the place after my dad passes – assuming he hasn’t made a will leaving everything to a charity or some unknown, long lost relative. Or maybe he’s adopted a neighborhood cat that he wants to let live in the place, who knows. I’m doubting any of those scenarios, seeing as he’s not a very charitable person. But I’ve set my slight unease aside, determined to maintain the lighthearted mood of the day.

  Feeling hungry, we’ve rummaged around in the kitchen, coming up with a box of pasta and a jar of sauce. It’s not the fanciest meal but hunger seems to be the ruling factor at this moment.

  “Here, I found the colander.” Eric passes me my mom’s old yellow Tupperware strainer.

  “Wow, this stuff really is indestructible. I think my parents got this as part of a wedding gift. I think we used to have a small orange one too.”

  “It must have been the era, I think my parents had a similar set,” he says, rummaging through the silverware drawer, coming up with two forks.

  Working side-by-side in the kitchen, preparing a meal with comfort and ease, feels practically domestic. Natural. The way we move around each other - touching shoulders, skimming waists, caressing hands – it’s like a dance we’ve done a thousand times. Like we already know all of each other’s preferences and habits. I know we haven’t truly reached that level of familiarity but I can envision the possibility. My mind’s piecing together snippets of us living like this, years in the future.