Hard Beat(40)

She was right… at least when it came to the first few months or so. Then it usually turned to shit because work always took precedence for me. Relationships had always been fun while they lasted, but no one, and I mean no one, has ever made me think for one iota of a second of hanging up my credentials. The day that happens will be the day I know love from lust.

In the life of a foreign war correspondent, chances to distance yourself from the harsh reality of the modern world are few and far between (if they occur at all), so it’s not hard to recognize why it’s so easy for me to fall for someone while we’re ensconced in this self-imposed bubble. The lifestyle in the hotel where all the journalists reside is all about the status quo. It’s not like stateside where you and the person you are dating go to work separately, hang with friends or have individual hobbies, and then see each other occasionally on the weekend. No, here on the fringe of civilization, you live, work, breathe, and socialize with the person you’re interested in. It breeds an intensity between two people that’s unrivaled, an acceleration of feelings equivalent to months of dating when you’ve only been together for a few weeks.

And the fact that I’m thinking all of this with my head pressed to her hotel room door because I feel bad I pushed her away and hurt her feelings proves all of my overly introspective thinking right.

My God this place f*cks with your head. Although I’m sure the shots of Fireball don’t help either.

Just as I get a grip on my rambling thoughts, I fall forward as the door opens inward. I stumble inside, and all I see is her back as she’s walking away from me farther into the room. And f*ck me, she’s wearing short shorts that cling to her ass, highlighting every damn line of her legs, and a tank top so sheer in color, I swear I can see the bronze of her skin through it. Of course my mind immediately jumps to the thought of what the front of her tank looks like and if her nipples are pressed against the thin material.

I shake the thought from my head and kick the door shut behind me as she sits on the edge of the bed facing the window with her back toward me. “Save your breath, Tanner. I got your message loud and clear. I was only good enough that first night when you considered me disposable, but now that I’m here to stay…” She laughs derisively. “I’m no longer good enough for you.”

I’m definitely the * for putting that hurt tone in her voice. “That’s not it.” My words come out on a sigh when I continue to explain. “It’s a lot more than that, Beaux.”

“It’s BJ to you, Tanner.”

That simple statement stings deeply, and now that the taste of the rejection is fresh on my tongue, I don’t like it at all. I don’t know how to explain – what I need to say and what I want to say are two different things.

“Beaux…”

“No, you don’t get to Beaux me. You lost that right,” she says as she turns to face me, and damn it to hell, the sight of her is like a one-two combo punch. First her sheer beauty with her face bare of any makeup and hair piled on top of her head and two, that I was right about exactly what I’d be able to see through the damn fabric of her shirt. “You kissed me today like a man who wanted more and then walked away the minute you realized you wanted more. You know why? Because I got to you. I heard what you said upstairs loud and clear. But it’s the things you aren’t saying that I think you need to listen to.”

“You’re so far off base!” I’m practically stuttering in my rush to deny it, needing to refute what she’s said only because she’s hitting way too f*cking close to home.

“Keep telling yourself that.” She stands and takes a step closer to me. “You like me and yet you can’t admit it for some reason. You’re so damn busy trying to keep me at arm’s length because of your trust issues that you can’t see what’s sitting right in front of your damn face. As much as I want you, I won’t be coming on to you again. No. Not after what you said to me upstairs.” She pauses, and it’s like her words have knocked mine from my tongue.

She walks toward the window, then stops and turns to look me in the eye. “There’s something between us. You can’t deny that, Tanner – a blind man would be able to sense it… You’re so quick to accuse me of playing games, and yet you’re calling more shots than a bartender. Have sex with me and then get mad at me. Kiss me and stalk away like I’m at fault. I’m here to do my job, not get sucked into whatever this is so my head gets messed up and I can’t perform… So I think it’s best that you leave my room.”

With those final words she turns, slides into her bed, and turns the light off, effectively ending the conversation without giving me a chance to respond. And maybe that’s for the best, because she’s just unloaded so many truths on me that I don’t even know which one to focus on first. I just stand there in the darkness with her comments suffocating the air around me.

I’ve never been at a loss for words when it comes to a woman, let alone an argument, and yet I am right now and it’s unnerving. And exhilarating in an odd way to know that someone can see so clearly inside of you that you’re not sure you want them to see. But I guess I should expect this from her after what I saw through the lens of her camera – she already knows all of this.

“Stella was my one constant over the past ten years.” The confession is out of my mouth before I even realize it, and I instantly wonder if this is my apology in the form of an explanation, the comfort of the darkness around us allowing the words to come. She doesn’t say anything in response, but she stills in bed, and I know I have her attention.