Joe
Cursing myself under my breath as I made my way to my truck, I couldn’t believe how narrowly I had escaped, only seconds away from humiliating myself.
Forgot? She freaking forgot that we kissed? What the hell kind of crap is that?
I really thought she was messing with me at first. At least, I hoped she was messing with me. That night she was drunk, sweaty and dressed more like she was on her way to a country club than a bar. But dammit all to hell if she wasn’t sexy as fuck anyway.
I stayed back and let her have her fun, but there was no way I was going to leave her there. I’m not an asshole. I will be the first to admit that yeah, I didn’t really notice her much at first. Okay, pretty much the entire night. I was getting vibes from the start that my normal charming ways wouldn’t work on her, so I just kind of kept to myself instead of engaging her.
Then she took that damn sweater off and all rhyme and reason left me. Her skin was glistening with sweat, her eyes closed with a smile on her lips that she wore simply because she was having a good time, not because she was trying to pretend. Something had changed in her when she started dancing, and the rigid and quiet girl she started out as turned into a desirable temptress.
She moved fluidly, and instead of her body moving to the music, it almost looked like the music was following her. It was captivating, and even though I knew she was one hundred percent off limits, it didn’t keep the guy downstairs from noticing.
When her small hands lifted in the air above her head, I pictured both of them wrapped around my cock, her fingers probably too small to reach all the way around with one hand. And when she turned her body in my direction and I caught a glimpse of her hardened nipples through her flimsy shirt, every inch of my body stiffened. Men all across the bar were noticing the same things I was, and jealousy began brewing something fierce.
I didn’t particularly like feeling jealous, and never really had before. Not when it came to women and feeling jealous in a possessive way. I didn’t do long term relationships and any girl I spent time with knew the score, and in general I didn’t sleep with a woman more than once. Not because I didn’t desire to, but because in my experience, the more you slept with someone the more attached they got. With no feelings involved to mess up the whole thing, I managed to stay friends with pretty much every woman I’d ever been with.
So if ex lovers found themselves in a monogamous relationship and had to disappear from my life, I waved goodbye and moved on. I never missed them or regretted not making a move. Never felt any kind of ownership over them, or any other kind of boyfriend type feeling. But knowing these men were ogling Carrie, lusting for her body the same way I was, made me unreasonably angry. I had no right to her. Hell, I’d been ignoring her all night, acting like a shallow asshole and not even trying to get to know her.
I forced myself to look away when she started dancing with another girl who tried to make out with her, and I planned to hide in the shadows until she was ready to go. But when her whole demeanor changed and I saw pain and anger flash in her eyes, I knew I couldn’t hold back any longer. I didn’t know what had caused it, but my protective instincts kicked in and I was rushing to her side before I had a chance to talk myself out of it.
I reached her just in time to get that asshole ex of hers to back off. Of course I didn’t know who he was at the time, but it was obvious enough that he was the cause of her change in mood. I could tell in the few sentences we exchanged that he was a self-serving prick, trying to lay claim to Carrie and pretend to be some kind of knight in shining armor for her. He didn’t care about Carrie, he just cared that she was getting attention from the men in the bar. I had no doubt that he would not have been a gentleman if she had left with him, and she would most likely have woken up regretting her night.
My intentions might not have been any more noble than his, but I didn’t have a history with her that was making her nails dig into my arm hard enough to break skin. No, her anger was directed solely at him, so if he thought for one second I was going to let her leave with him then he was fucking nuts.
Her kissing me caught me off guard in the worst way. As soon as her soft lips touched mine and her delicate hands wrapped around my neck, I wanted to devour her. I hesitated, though, knowing that she was only kissing me to make that douche wad jealous. It was a bad idea to make out with Stacy’s best friend, and I had every intention of pushing her away and telling her so.
But then she tried to pull away, and Joe junior didn’t like it one bit. A heartbeat later our mouths were moving and her hands were exploring me in ways that were supposed to be reserved for the bedroom. My body and mind warred with each other, going back and forth between doing the right thing before things got out of control and wanting to say consequences be damned and take her home to my bed where she could continue all the work her hands were doing, minus the clothes.
My whole body sparked to life and reacted in ways to her that I didn’t understand during that kiss. Pulling myself off of her was literally painful, but when dickbreath cleared his throat, I found the strength to pull back. I could feel her staring at me, but I couldn’t look at her. I knew what I’d see, and it would break my resolve, which was already paper thin.
Seconds later we were outside and she’s pulling away from me, like she couldn’t get away from me quick enough. A cold reminder that I was right and she had only been using me to make her ex jealous. It shouldn’t have bothered me. A hot girl making out with me at a bar and not expecting anything from me should have been a great end to the night, but it wasn’t. I was irrationally angry, and offended, and on the verge of doing something incredibly stupid.
Like scooping her up in my arms and doing it again when no one was around, just to find out if I reacted the same way to her the second time around.
Her bitchy attitude helped me keep it in my pants. Not because it was a turnoff, but because I wasn’t one to force myself on someone, and she was making it clear that she didn’t want to be anywhere near me. I figured she was just pissed about her ex and was taking it out on me, but a new emotion overtook me the whole drive to her place, and it felt a hell of a lot like insecurity.
I was brooding the whole drive, but she was such a feisty little firecracker the whole time that I found my bad mood slipping. Even when she would wake up for only a few seconds to tell me when to make a turn to get to her place. She was half asleep and still snapping at me, and fuck me, but it was cute as hell.
I didn’t think I’d ever noticed a woman being cute before, and glancing over at her tiny body curled up into a ball with her head cradled in her hands while she snored lightly brought a whole other onslaught of emotions I didn’t recognize. I resisted the urge to reach over and push a strand of hair off her face, because if I was being totally honest with myself, I was just looking for an excuse to touch her.
And damn, I wanted to touch her. More than just her hair or her cheek, though, and I had a feeling that one small touch wouldn’t be enough. It was a bad idea for a million different reasons to pursue anything with her, especially when I didn’t know how she felt about casual sex, but also because of our mutual friends.
Plus, if I made a move on Carrie and it pissed her off, then Stacy would have my balls. I could stare down the barrel of a gun and not flinch, but the thought of pissing off Stacy made my whole body shudder.
By the time we made it to her apartment, which didn’t take nearly as long as I wished it would, her hair and clothes were rumpled and she had a small amount of dried drool on her chin. Even with tired eyes and her skin sticky with sweat, all I wanted in that moment was to kiss her again.
She fought me getting out of the truck, she fought me while she was puking, and she had me banned from her building. And I still wanted to kiss her.
And now...now I find out she doesn’t even remember the kiss? I thought she was avoiding me because she was embarrassed, but finding out she simply just forgot about me? That stung. Bad.
After that night I didn’t set out to pursue her, happy to give her space to recover, leave her wanting more. I figured we would run into each other from mutual friends, and having never really pursued a woman, I thought my odds of getting another shot with her would be better if I let it happen organically.
I didn’t even contemplate the possibility of her not wanting a repeat. It was only about thirty seconds, but it was so earth-shattering that it had been about the only thing I could think about since that night. To find out that she didn’t even remember the kiss that had rocked my world had me feeling ten shades of pathetic.
Even more pathetic than those needy guys who went around begging women for a date, because I had gone and surpassed them. I’d spent an embarrassing number of hours pining over a woman who had all but forgotten me. Correction - literally forgotten me.
I’d turned down every woman who made advances on me since that night, not wanting to replace the memory of her lips on mine with someone else’s. I was such an idiot for letting a random girl I didn’t even know completely change me, all from one stupid kiss.
Well, now that I knew where she stood, I would be able to move on. No sense in continuing to obsess, and I was probably blowing things out of proportion anyway. I was off work today, having requested off knowing my emotions would be all over the place anyway just because of the date. The anniversary of my parents’ death.
Yeah, that was probably it. It wasn’t Carrie, it was just me being lonely and projecting onto her.
It was a bullshit excuse, but one I was willing to accept if it meant not adding to the pain and loneliness of the day. I may not have known what the hell to do about Carrie, but there was one thing I knew, and it was how to remedy feeling alone.
~
I had every intention of going out and getting laid, but by the time I made it back to my house I was beat. I could have just picked one of the girls lounging in my pool when I got there, but I was too tired to even eat, let alone have sex. Sex had never been as simple as a physical release for me, and I was in no frame of mind to please a woman right then. So instead of getting my mind off of Carrie with another woman, I fell onto my bed and passed the fuck out.
By the time I woke up, the sun was going down. I checked my phone to see if Carrie had text...you know...about Stacy, but she hadn’t. I could hear the makings of a party starting in my backyard, but I didn’t feel like mingling. Truthfully, my ego was still bruised from the blow it took earlier, and I needed time to feel sorry for myself before facing people.
An hour later, I’d done two hundred pushups, showered, done a load of laundry, and checked my phone five thousand times. I still hadn’t heard from Carrie, and I knew she would contact me if something was wrong, but I needed an excuse to see her again. Actually, what I needed was to stay away from her, but I’d already made up my mind at some point while letting my mind drift during my tedious distractions.
If she didn’t remember our kiss, it was simply from the alcohol. She needed to kiss me sober, and then she would feel the same way I had. In the least, maybe I would realize kissing her wasn’t as great as I made it out to be in my head and I could finally forget about it. Either way, it sounded like a solid plan to me.
I pulled out my phone and shot Carrie a quick text, checking in, before starting my truck. She responded almost instantly.
Stacy is asleep. I’m heading out now.
Took you long enough. Been waiting for an update all day.
I didn’t mean to come across irritated. Dammit. I should have thrown one of those little emoji guys in there. I’d never considered how a text came across to someone on the other end, and living in the land of I-don’t-know-shit was exhausting. I ran a hand through my hair and watched a little bubble pop up, indicating she was typing a response, feeling way more anxious than necessary to read whatever she said next.
Calm your pants, pretty boy. Stacy is a handful. I couldn’t even go to the bathroom without her yelling for me. If I didn’t have time to eat or even sit down for two seconds all day, then it would make sense that I didn’t think about texting you.
Ignoring the way her saying she hadn’t even thought about me stung, I sent her a text asking how I could help, then waited. Nothing. So I sent out another, offering to bring her some dinner. Nothing.
Screw waiting around, I was just going to go to her. She said she was heading home, and she lived about twenty minutes from me, so I headed her way. She wasn’t there when I pulled into her parking garage, which was concerning because she only lived fifteen minutes max from Stacy’s place.
Another thirty minutes went by before I saw her car pulling in. She didn’t notice me, and even through her tinted windows I could see how tired she was.
I made my way towards her car, which she’d parked about ten spots down from mine, and watched her look at her phone and roll her eyes before tossing it into her purse.
Stubborn woman. She wasn’t even going to reply to my messages.
I stood right outside her door, and she never once noticed me. I could have been a mugger holding a gun to her head, and she would be oblivious. I was going to have to talk to her about the dangers of being out at night and not being aware of your surroundings. Later. I wasn’t there for educational purposes. Unless me teaching her exactly how hard it would be to forget another kiss with me counted as a learning experience.
I started to greet her, but her tiny body slammed into mine before I could get the words out. She let out a high pitched squeak and fell backwards against her car, dropping her keys and setting off her car alarm.
We both bent to reach for them at the same time, and it wasn’t until her hand touched mine that she even looked at my face. I pulled the keys from her grip and turned off her car alarm while she stared up at me from her still crouched position.
When she finally stood, it hit me once again just how small she was. I had to be more than a foot taller than her, because even with her back ramrod straight, I still had to look almost straight down to see her. I hadn’t really had time to take in her appearance earlier, but I noticed she was still wearing the oversized sweatshirt that hung off her shoulder over a pair of sinfully tight jeans with furry boots.
“Why the hell aren’t you answering my texts, Carrie? You said you were heading home almost an hour ago and you live fifteen minutes from Stacy’s apartment. I’ve been waiting here, worried, for over a half hour.” Yeah, okay, I was being a giant dick, but I’d been worried. She was so damn stubborn, ignoring my texts and forgetting my kisses. Plus, it wasn’t fair for a woman wearing bummy clothes and no makeup to look so damn irresistible.
“Uh, okay where to begin…” She trailed off, tapping her finger on her chin like she was trying to figure out how to respond. Then in the blink of an eye, her whole body went rigid and her eyes narrowed on me...and damn, did she wear angry well. It was hot. “First of all, don’t sound irritated with me when you’re the one who showed up at my apartment acting like a creepy stalker - uninvited. Second of all, not that it’s any of your business, but I hadn’t eaten all day so I stopped for a smoothie. Third of all, you asked me for an update, I gave you one. Whatever follow up messages you sent weren’t relevant.”
She put her hands on my chest and tried to push me away, which was laughable really. I wasn’t a bulky guy, but I was seriously way bigger than her. I watched as she pouted adorably and huffed in frustration, and there was no way I could avoid smiling. So damn adorable.
“Carrie,” I said in my cop voice that I reserved for delinquent juveniles when they needed a lecture. “I’m a cop, it’s my job to protect and worry about people, especially when it’s someone I care about. I’m sorry if you felt like I was being pushy or nagging, but I just needed to make sure nothing was wrong.”
She wasn’t buying it. “I told you nothing was wrong before I left. There was nothing else to worry about.”
“You didn’t answer me, I got worried.”
“You could have just gone by Stacy’s to check on her instead of coming to my apartment for an update if you were so worried.”
“I wasn’t worried about Stacy; I was worried about you.” She looked shocked at my confession, which confused me. Why was it so hard to believe that I would be worried about her? Yeah, we weren’t close or anything, but I was a decent guy and a cop. It’s my job to worry about people. “You said you hadn’t eaten or had a chance to rest all day. I was worried you fell asleep at the wheel or something.” The vulnerability I’d seen seconds before disappeared, and I saw her fists clench out of the corner of my eye.
“Yeah, well I’m not a child, I don’t need you to worry about me. Just because I’m small doesn’t mean I’m weak. I can handle a day with my best friend, who I’ve known a hell of a lot longer than you, by the way. I’ve also been driving for over ten years and have somehow managed to make it back to my apartment every night all on my own without getting lost or scared or crying out for mommy, so maybe you should worry about the people who actually need help instead of babying Stacy’s friends.”
She pushed me again, and this time I moved out of her way. She took fast, sure strides away from me, and I knew I should just let her go. I knew that, but my legs apparently didn’t, because I was moving and sidled up next to her in just a few steps.
When we got to the door of her building, I followed her inside and she stopped at a desk to talk to a man guarding the entrance. It wasn’t Mr. Martins from that first night, and he paid no attention to me, instead focusing on the tiny spitball marching towards him. I wasn’t entirely sure Carrie knew I was standing there, since she never once acknowledged that I was even following her. Until she spoke to the guard, that is.
“Fred, I need you to do me a favor and escort this man out of the building,” she told him with a firm nod of her head. I was already holding up my police badge before his eyes made it over to me, and I almost felt bad for the guy. He was obviously torn. He had a very angry little woman in his face, and I had a feeling he was trying to decide which was a worse fate - trying to force an officer out of the building, or getting kicked in the nuts by the tiny, yet terrifying, tenant.
When he didn’t move to follow orders, and instead gave her an apologetic smile and slowly backed away, she turned to face me, saw me holding up my badge and growled. Like, loudly. It echoed in the large lobby, and I was a little shocked that such a large sound could come out of such a tiny body.
She stomped over to the bank of elevators that were about four feet away from where I was standing, pushed the number eight, and turned to face me. The anger in her face was gone, and all that remained was exhaustion. It was clear all the fight had left her.
“Listen, I’m sorry for acting ungrateful. Thank you for being worried and making sure I’m okay, that was very thoughtful of you. I’m not normally such a bitch. Okay, that’s a lie, but I’ve been trying really hard to not be like that anymore and just two minutes near you and I’m falling back into old habits. So, if you’ll forgive me for behaving so juvenile, I would be very appreciative. However, I am very, very tired and don’t have it in me to finish this tug-of-war we seem to have going. So tell me what it will take to make you go away.”