by Vi Keeland
The shake was so thick I could barely get it through the straw.
“You need to suck on it harder,” he said with a smirk, wiggling his eyebrows.
He was the king of sexual innuendos. I usually didn’t play along but was in a different kind of a mood today. “I guess my mouth is just out of practice.”
He nearly choked on his own shake and that topic of conversation pretty much ended there.
Suddenly embarrassed at my boldness, I changed the subject. “So, you asked me why I decided to become a nurse. Why did you choose engineering?”
“From a young age, I liked to take things apart and put them back together. So, I guess it was the field that fit the bill.”
So, when he rips my heart out, he’ll be able to fix it.
I looked down at his sexy arms. “I am sure you get asked this all the time, but what are the meanings behind your tattoos, like the dragon, for example? That’s my favorite one.”
Squinting his eyes sarcastically, he said, “No…no one ever asks me that!” He chuckled. “Seriously, though, nothing profound. Everyone thinks there’s got to be some fucking deep meaning behind ink, but I just thought the dragon looked cool. The same goes for these.” He pointed to his right arm that sported various Celtic and tribal markings, along with crosses, roses and other artwork. “All meaningless, except for this one right here, the moon with my father’s initials on it. I got most of these when I was a teenager.”
I reached across the table and rubbed my index finger over the half moon tattoo that had the letters A.B.G. surrounding it.
“What does it stand for?”
“Alan Boyd Green.”
“What does the moon mean?”
He looked down at my finger, which was still brushing against his arm and said, “My Dad used to say this thing to me before he left the house or tucked me in at night. I would tell him I loved him then he would say he loved me too. But I would always ask him how much. He would say, ‘to the moon…I love you to the moon.’”
“That is so incredibly sweet.”
He was staring out the window. “Sometimes, I look up at the moon at night and think of him. I know that’s fucking cheesy…but I do.”
“I think that’s beautiful.”
I think you are beautiful too, and God help me, I want to kiss you so badly right now.
“He was this big biker dude, you know? But he had a heart of gold, and he would have been a great father to have growing up.” He lifted his thumb, pointing to the band he always wore around it. “This was my Dad’s wedding ring, actually.”
Wow.
“He knew that you loved him, Jake. I regret not telling my brother I loved him more like that.”
“We all have things we regret…decisions we make that we have to live with. You can’t dwell on them and beat yourself up for it. It doesn’t change anything.”
We stayed in that diner booth for at least three hours. We played more music from the jukebox, and I told Jake stories about growing up in the boonies; he couldn’t believe I actually drove a tractor and said he’d pay money if I let him come home and watch. He joked that he would pay more if I did it in a bikini.
Then, we shared a huge slice of “death by chocolate” cake. He had asked me if I wanted to go explore more of Chicago, but there was something so peaceful about this nostalgic place. I told him I preferred to just hang out here until we had to head back to the airport.
The sun had set, and the evening dinner crowd started to fill Bernie’s. Every time the bell on the door chimed, it reminded me I was one step closer to getting back on another plane. The anxiety started to build up again.
I took the last bite of cake, and with my mouth full, said, “This day really surprised me. I had no clue what you had in store, but it turned out to be one of the best days I’ve had in a really long time. To think I was dreading it. Now, I just have get through the flight home.”
“You can choose right here and now to stay in the present and let go of the fear or you can choose to engage it. Nothing can hurt you on that plane, unless you let it.”
I put my fork down. “How did you get to be so wise? Seriously, you’re like an 80-year-old man stuck in a hot, tatted body.”
What the hell did I just say to him?
His gaze was penetrating, and the amused smile on his face showed me that my admission hadn’t escaped him.
“So…you think I’m hot?” His smile was devious now. He was going to torture me.
I didn’t know what to say, so decided on an answer that made no sense. “Well, you know what I mean.”
“Are there other meanings for hot?”
“Jake—”
“You’re turning red…stop. I’m messing with you. You make it so easy sometimes.” He laughed and startled me when he reached across the table and swiped his thumb gently across my lip then licked his finger. Chills radiated down my spine as he did it.
“You had chocolate all over your mouth. It was cute for a while, but I didn’t want you leaving here like that.”
“Oh…thanks,” I said looking away, still embarrassed about what I had just admitted. I was also desperately wishing he had licked the chocolate directly off of my mouth, so I could taste him.
It was now completely dark out, and I knew we had to leave in a few minutes. I wished we could just stay here in this booth longer. Somehow we were able to drown out the whole world for the past few hours. He had me crazy in lust and had a way of making me want to tell him everything, like my deepest fears and desires. Sometimes, I made an ass out of myself in the process because if I was being honest…he was my deepest desire.
“Ready to go? We should get to the airport,” he said as he took out his wallet and paid the bill.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
As we exited Bernie’s, he put his hand on the small of my back again, and my breathing quickened immediately. Anytime he so much as brushed up against me, let alone touched me directly, my body responded, and lately, the effects have been cumulative; I was slowly wearing thin.
***
On the flight home, before takeoff, he grabbed my hand without my asking him to.
I think he could see my nerves starting to work their way up to panic mode.
This plane was bigger and nearly empty, and we had a large middle row all to ourselves. I was scared but didn’t feel as out of control as I was at the start of the first flight. It was nighttime, and somehow that was more calming than the sun pouring in.
“You think you can make it through takeoff without a tickle?”
I nodded. “Just don’t let go of my hand, okay?”
“I promise. I won’t.”
And he didn’t, for the entire flight. Even when we had reached cruising altitude, even when the flight attendant came by with drinks, even when he would reach into his backpack for something, he kept my hand in his. It was a small gesture, but it was the first time I truly felt that he was holding it because he wanted to, not because I needed him to.
It was dark inside the plane aside from some small interior lights. Sitting close to him in the dim lighting of our otherwise empty row felt intimate.
Jake came up with a game to get my mind off a patch of turbulence. “We are going to take turns shouting out a word, and then we both have to say the first thing that comes to mind.
I breathed out, still shaken from the constant bouncing of the plane. “Okay.”
“Ready?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“You first,” he said.
The first subject that came to my mind was “Chicago.”
Me: “Bernies.”
Jake: “Home.”
“Math,” Jake said.
Me: “Torture.”
Jake: “Fun.”
“Mrs. Ballsworthy,” I said laughing.
We looked at each other, amused and said in unison, “Fuck.”
He threw out his own name. “Jake.”
Me: “Bananas.”
&nbs
p; Jake: “Hot.”
I smacked him.
I threw out, “Nina.”
Me: “Spectacular.”
Jake: (Silent pause) “Let me think about that and get back to you.”
I whacked him playfully again.
We continued to play the back and forth game until the turbulence let up. He had succeeded in distracting me from it.
It had been a long day, and I decided to lay my head back and close my eyes, even though I was too nervous to actually nap. Jake was still holding my hand, and at one point, started rubbing his thumb softly back and forth across it. My eyes were still closed, but I was melting into the seat, quivering between my legs at the small but sensual gesture. I squeezed his hand in an attempt to communicate that I liked it when he did that. As he continued to brush across my hand with his thumb, I mimicked him and started rubbing my own thumb across his. Eventually, our two thumbs were moving in soft circular motions.
When I opened my eyes suddenly, I was surprised to find him turned in his seat completely toward me. I had assumed he was looking straight ahead with his eyes closed, like I was. Instead, he was just staring at me, and I seemed to have caught him in the act. Was he doing that the entire time our thumbs were making out?
His breathing was rapid, and he was looking at me like he was struggling to say something, like he definitely wanted to kiss me, like he wanted inside my soul, but something was holding him back.
He took his hand from mine and used it to push my hair behind my ears, sat up and then said, “You better put on your seatbelt. The light just came on.”
We said nothing else for the rest of the flight. My heart was pounding, but this time, it wasn’t because of my fear of flying. It was for fear of Jake. Because I had really thought that something was about to happen between us in that moment, yet in typical Jake fashion, he stopped at the tipping point. And those butterflies in my stomach? They were dead from exhaustion.
***
When I returned from the shower to my bedroom that night, in place of a paper bat on my nightstand, was a pair of plastic gold pilot’s wings that I had apparently earned as a brave flier. So, once again, Jake managed to make me feel like a child.
I was damn proud of myself, though. The feeling was bittersweet because even though our trip rocked, it created more confusion. After today, I was absolutely sure he felt something for me.
The next day, I’d leave for almost two weeks to go home for Christmas break. What I didn’t know was, once I returned to Brooklyn after the holidays, nothing would ever be the same there again.
CHAPTER 16
I was back at my parents’ house all of one day, and I was already itching to see Jake again. It was the weekend, so he would have been in Boston anyway, but it was psychological because I knew I’d be here for several days. It would be the first whole week since I had known him that we would be apart.
I felt empty and hopeless, and it was my first realization that I was truly becoming addicted to him. It was snowing heavily, and while I should have appreciated the beautiful white landscape outside the window, it just made me feel more trapped here.
I sat on the red suede couch, mindlessly flicking through cable channels, while really focused on thoughts of Jake’s thumb brushing against mine.
Then, my mind wandered to that night in his room when he basically kicked me out. I tried really hard in general not to think about that night, those words that came out of his mouth that were so brutally raw. I nearly had an orgasm from just replaying them alone and believed that he meant what he said about the things he wanted to do to me. He was trying hard to stay away. The thought both turned me on immensely and angered me.
At dinner, my parents grilled me about life in New York. They were pretty conservative, and if they thought I was shacking up with someone I wanted to have sex with, they would flip. So, I chose to continue to keep my feelings for my roommate a secret.
“So, honey, have you met any nice young men yet in the city?” my mother asked.
“No one special.”
Someone amazing.
“Do you think you need to get out more? Maybe join a college club or something? I bet you would meet a nice guy if you joined some kind of group.”
Unless he has piercings, a dragon tattoo, wants to make me come until I scream in every way possible and his name is Jake Green…not interested.
“Yeah, maybe,” I said with absolutely no feeling whatsoever.
My mother, Sheryl, always tried to offer up advice on ways I could meet men. Unfortunately, her judgment could not be trusted. Aside from the fact that she thought Spencer was the best thing that ever happened to me, she once tried to set me up with a co-worker’s son who, at first, sounded interesting on paper. He supposedly worked in “makeup” and resembled a famous actor. Very “Hollywood,” right?” It turned out to be a different story once I met the guy. He was a funeral embalmer, which although it weirded me out, I could have lived with, had the celebrity he actually resembled not been Pee Wee Herman. So, I kept my mother out of my love life.
After dinner, I went to my bedroom to daydream in private, while looking out the window at our neighbor’s holiday lights. We had stopped putting lights up after Jimmy died, but our neighbors, the Hardimans, had always put up the same exact decorations every year since I was a kid. Looking out at their front yard was nostalgic because despite everything that we lost when Jimmy died, seeing the same old pair of lit up reindeers and the same inflatable Santa was a glimpse back to the way things were in happier times.
The next night was Christmas Eve. It used to be a huge deal in my house growing up, with lots of presents under the tree and a huge nativity display outside. After Jimmy died, my mother scaled back significantly. All we had this year was a modest tree and two stockings—Jimmy’s and mine—over the fireplace.
Our plans were to go to a late afternoon mass at St. Margaret’s Church, followed by a small gathering of my parents’ close friends back at the house.
It was in the middle of mass that evening, when my solemn Christmas Eve took an interesting turn. My phone had been on vibrate when I felt it buzz against the pew. It was a text from Jake.
I didn’t want to be rude and read it during the sermon, but I couldn’t help myself.
So, I’m in the middle of a Christmas get together at my sister’s house, and she has Pandora radio on. That Divinyls song comes on, and now all I can think about is you. Thanks a lot.
What Divinyls song?
It was killing me not knowing what he was talking about. I managed to hold off on googling it until we left the church. Once in my father’s car, I searched “Divinyls songs” and found it: I Touch Myself. I knew the song but not who sang it.
Of course. Very funny, Jake.
I happened to notice another song by The Divinyls on the list. It was the perfect title of a song that would describe how he made me feel. So, I texted him back:
That’s funny, because there is a Divinyls song that reminds me of you too. It’s called Pleasure and Pain.
I was expecting him to respond in typical Jake fashion with a wise comeback.
Jake: ;-) So, what are you doing tonight?
Nina: Christmas is kind of sad at my house. We just went to church. Now, going home for some dinner. What about you?
Jake: Playing dolls with my nieces. Don’t tell anyone.
Nina: LOL. You never cease to amaze me.
About three minutes later…
Jake: When are you coming back to the city?
Nina: Not for almost two weeks.
Jake: Damn.
Nina: Are you gonna miss me that much?
Jake: Actually, yeah. I miss you already, to be honest. A lot.
Oh.
Nina: I miss you too.
Jake: Merry Christmas.
Nina: Merry Christmas.
After dinner, my parents stayed in the dining room eating roasted chestnuts with a few friends while I excused myself back to my room yet again. I lay
back on my canopy bed (don’t laugh) and closed my eyes, looking up at the glow-in-the-dark stars (don’t laugh) that I had stuck on the ceiling years ago.
All I could focus on was Jake saying that he missed me. And you know what? It was a hell of a lot better than focusing on how much I missed my brother. In fact, these past few months living in Brooklyn have been the first time since Jimmy died that I have felt alive again.
He brought me back to life.
He brought me back to life, and he could very well be the death of me all over again.
It would be worth the risk.
But he’s holding all the cards.
An hour later, it was about ten o’clock when my phone vibrated.
Did you see the moon tonight?
I smiled and immediately walked over to my window. The moon was not quite full but almost, and it was amazingly bright. Along with the snow on the ground and the holiday lights shining from across the street, the combination was astonishingly beautiful. It absolutely warmed my heart to think about Jake looking up at that same moon, thinking of his Dad tonight.
Nina: I would have never thought to look out at the moon on Christmas Eve, but I am glad I did. You always have a way of opening up my eyes to things.
Jake: There is nothing more I’d rather look at right now, actually.
Nina: The moon is beautiful.
Jake: I was talking about your eyes.
On reflex, I touched my hand to my heart, as if to stop it from leaping out of my chest. He had the ability to completely shake me to the core and transform my body to mush with a simple sentence. I needed to respond but couldn’t form a coherent word. He texted again before I could try.