Sitting in the passenger seat of his Camaro, I’m
surrounded by the manly scent of Leather and Armani. My
heart is heavy as it pounds. We are headed back to his
apartment for one last night before he leaves.
Brandon took a promotion that is moving him to
Seattle. Tomorrow he leaves on a plane and I’ll never see
him again. My boyfriend, if you can call him that. Four
months, knowing that I don’t love him and he doesn’t love
me. He is the first man that I’ve ever had sex with. At
twenty-three years old, I decided that waiting on love that
might never come was going to take a back seat to my
“Hey, baby, you alright?” he calls over the low hum
of the radio.
I look over as he shifts. His blonde hair, those hazel
eyes. Mine for a while, for tonight.
Who am I kidding? He’s not really mine. I’m not
really his. I’ve never really been anyone’s.
We never said the L word.
I never asked him to stay.
“I’m okay. I’ll be fine.” I shrug and cross my
At the light, he reaches over and turns my face with
a finger under my chin. I look up into his eyes as he drifts
his fingers down my neck, bending for a kiss.
Hot, soft lips send an immediate ache to my core, as
it always does. He pulls away just as the light turns green.
“Was dinner alright? You want to stop and get a
drink somewhere before we head back?”
“Yes, a drink sounds pretty good right now.”
Twenty minutes later we’re in a quiet bar and he’s
handing me a glass of white wine.
“Here you go, Chloe.”
He sits close to me on a leather couch, in a dim
corner of the bar. I drink half my wine in one sip. It’s sweet
and cold, perfect. He sips on a dark beer and watches me
with soft eyes. He touches my hair, fingering a long lock.
“I’m sorry that... I wish...,” he starts. Another sip of
his beer. “I’m going to miss you.”
Then why are you leaving?
“ I understand. You have to go where your job takes
you. We both knew that this wasn’t serious. You aren’t
doing anything wrong.”
He nods, his hand in my hair again. I take another
drink. His touch sends a chill down my back.
“Just didn’t think that it would....” He stops again.
I turn my face to him, close enough for a kiss. “You
keep doing that. You’ve been doing it all evening.”
He smiles at me, orders another wine from a passing
waitress for me.
“You aren’t finishing your sentences.”
“So why don’t you finish one?”
He grins. “How about this one ? Voy a extrañar más
de lo que jamás admitiré.”
The Spanish is purred against my lips. His deep
voice tickling me down into places that make my face
flush. I’ve no idea what he says, it’s usually dirty.
It sounds beautiful in Spanish, even when I’m sure
He takes my lips in a soft kiss, which grows ever
deeper as we sit in this darkened corner, holding onto our
drinks. His free hand in my hair, my hand on his hard thigh.
I’m on fire knowing what’s coming when we get back to
I hear the waitress bring my wine and set in on the
coffee table, clearing her throat. Brandon pulls away, I
drain my glass and he hands me a second.
I drink the second slower, but that’s partly because I
move back in on Brandon and can’t keep my lips off his
long enough to take a sip.
Bursting through the door of his apartment, locked
in a kiss, my eyes flutter open and I see the luggage on the
floor. Boxes everywhere. He holds my face in two large
hands and I sink into his kiss, jumping into his waiting
arms to be carried into his bed.
His mouth, his hands, everything about him
caresses every inch of my skin. Muttered Spanish between
pants and moans, and it doesn’t stop until the sun comes
up. Pale light breaks around the curtains as I lay, sated and
rapidly realizing that it’s done. His plane leaves in a few
hours and neither of us has slept.
He’s leaving. He hasn’t asked me if I want him to
stay, and I haven’t offered it. I lay on him, my head resting
on his chest, my body over his, falling between his legs.
His hot hands stroke my long hair and my bare back over
and over again lulling me into such a drowsy state that I
can’t keep my eyes open.
“Can we take a nap?” I mumble.
“My brother will be here in a couple of hours. Why
don’t you go with me to the airport? Stay with me until I
have to go.”
Lifting my head, I see his hazel eyes on me. What
might have happened if it had lasted? If we stayed together
and he turned down the job? Would I fall for him? Would
he fall for me? Could this ever have been anything more
than us tearing each other’s clothes off?
I guess it doesn’t matter. I can ask what might have
been until it makes me crazy. I’d rather just get it over with.
We’ve spend most of our evenings together, especially
knowing he was going. Saturday night we both got totally
wasted drunk and had a night that I wish I could remember,
it sure started out hot.
“I can’t. You have a lot to do, and I need to get
He sits up, forcing me to do the same. I straddle his
naked hips as he presses his lips to my collar bones.
“Don’t go yet.”
Not don’t go. Don’t go yet. That yet is just the
reason I have to say goodbye to him. To this. To whatever
I want love. I want someone that would stay for me,
even if I don’t ask.
His hands drift up my sides, to my breasts. His eyes
move to mine.
“Don’t say goodbye. Go with me to the airport. Stay
with me for breakfast.”
I feel the lump choking me. I said I wouldn’t cry,
hating how much I already miss him and the way he looks
at me. It’s a waste of time. Knowing it will pass, I swallow
it down, closing my eyes and touching my forehead to his.
Inhaling, I take in the scent of him for the last time. The
feel of his body.
“I think we have to say goodbye. We knew that it
was coming. You’ll be happy and rich in Seattle and I’ll go
I can do this without crying. Be strong.
He sighs, and pulls me tight against his body,
holding me for one last, long moment. I curl my arms
around him and kiss him lightly.
Time to let him go.
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish