Bar Crawl(25)

“I know what undivided means, Frankie.”

“You’re also a flirt. Flirting itself, alone in a vacuum, isn’t harmful. But we don’t live in a vacuum. And, it’s a slippery-ass slope from flirting to innocent touches to not-so-innocent touches. Wait,” she looked up, seeming confused again, “why are you scared of me?”

Shit.





Frankie





“Why are you scared…of me?” I asked again. “Enough to flee my house, even.” I chuckled softly, but it wasn’t funny.

“The fleeing,” he teased, “was more about me than you. We talked about that.”

“Okay, what’s the rest, then?”

“I’m scared of your judgment. And I’m afraid I’m not good enough for you. Fuck that, I know I’m not good enough for you.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

I mimicked his position, nudging my shoulder into his upper arm. “That’s an intense judgment to make, don’t you think? Either you think really shitty of yourself, or far too highly of me. Shouldn’t I be able to decide who is or isn’t good enough for me?”

“You’re brilliant,” he said as he stared at the floor. “You’re kind and smart and focused and, to boot, I’ve never once seen you flinging yourself around the bar like you’re for sale. You have excellent self-esteem…” he trailed off as I started laughing. “What?”

“My self-esteem is rather in question,” I admitted.

CJ tilted his head, a movement that cause me to look him in the eye. “Trust me,” he asserted. “You have amazing self-esteem. I’m a bar person expert, remember?” He laughed a little before continuing. “I’ve seen how women with low self-esteem behave at a bar. It’s not always promiscuity. But of all the ways I know them to behave, you’ve never done any of those things. You’re always engaged in conversation, smiling, and you genuinely seem to have a good time.”

“So, your fear, then…” I prompted, not sure he’d really said much on the topic.

“Is that I won’t measure up. That, at the end of the day, I’ll still be the meathead sex freak who bangs the drums.” He lowered his head again and took a deep breath.

Instinctively, I wrapped my arm around his back and rested my chin on his shoulder. “Sounds like that’s more you being scared of you rather than you being scared of me.” My chin bobbed against the slight shrug of his shoulders. “Hey,” I whispered, leaning back so he could lift his head.

“Yeah?” When he looked up, I was shocked by the striking vulnerability in his eyes.

I knew it had to be quiet in my house, since I owned no pets and we were the only two people there—and we weren’t talking—but the whooshing sound in my ears from my increased heart rate made it incredibly difficult to focus. “I’m not scared anymore.” My voice quivered slightly as I spoke.

CJ leaned forward until our foreheads were touching. His was warm, threatening sweat but not quite there yet. His voice was rough like gravel again, but soft in a whisper. “I’m still terrified.”

My hands rested flat against the tops of his thighs as I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. When I opened my eyes, CJ was still starting at me, perhaps even more intensely than before. I moved my hands up his sides and brushed my fingertips along his neck before resting them against the sides of his face. “Kiss me,” I said inside of my heavy exhale.

Action was his only response, and he pressed his lips into mine. It was softer than our previous kisses. Testing. Tentative. We kissed in these soft, pillowy pecks for several seconds before I brought my hand to the back of his neck and made him stay on my lips a few moments longer. I wanted more and, for some reason, I was no longer afraid to ask for it.

“Come upstairs with me,” I said between thick kisses.

CJ pulled back, his breathing still heavy as he studied my face. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want you to think that you’re the same. Because you’re not. You’re important to me, even if I don’t fully understand all that means yet.”

“But I want to, CJ. Don’t you want to?” I leaned forward and kissed his neck.

“So, so, so badly. So badly.” He took a forced breath and gripped my shoulders. “I don’t want to make a mistake with you. Even without my knowing, I’ve made several. I’ve spent the last two years watching people at bars and writing their stories, and there you were over the past few months, writing mine.” There was a muted panic overtaking his voice.

I shrugged. “Maybe we can write the next scene together.” I internally winced at how corny it sounded, even though I’d meant every word.

“Damn, you’re making it hard to say no.” His thumb ran over my cheekbone excruciatingly slowly.

I turned my head into his touch and kissed the palm of his hand. “So don’t say no, then.”

I stood, grasping his hand and tugging him to standing. CJ and I had been unintentionally courting each other for months. I could no longer deny my role. Each time I’d seen him at one of the bars, I made longer eye contact with him than the time before. It’s as if I were begging him to be ready for what I wanted. I had no idea if he was fully there as we walked silently up my stairs, but we were ready for this.