STRIPPED DOWN
Spending the afternoon with Juliet was quiet literally the most fun Eric had had in awhile. Besides visiting the building his company would be tearing down and getting a virtual hard-on at the idea of destroying the place and erecting a new one, he had seen a lust for life in her that he hadn't picked up on before.
The great thing about New York City was that no matter how long you lived there, there was always something new to be discovered. Always a new stone to turn, a new corner to round, a new structure to admire...and an endless supply of smiles on Juliet Carson's face. The city looked good on her. It suited her and she suited the city. To look at her and to get caught up in her laughter, you would never know that she came from a horrible childhood in a small, forgettable town in Kentucky. As she took him by the hand with excitement and drank in random wonders of the city with childlike delight, Eric was the happiest he had ever been. In fact, he'd been noticing that quite a bit recently.
The pair liked to have frozen to death in the early November air, but neither of them cared. After having stopped for a late lunch which turned into cocktails closer to dinner time, they finally stumbled in the door of Juliet's apartment, breathless with laughter at a joke Eric had cracked and that Juliet had taken to a new level.
Removing his coat and collapsing down on the couch, Eric pulled his cell phone from his pocket after Juliet had disappeared into her bedroom. It was getting closer to time for the bachelor party to start and the truth was, he didn't really want to go. He didn't know if this made him a sap or a loser or any number of things that might get him made fun of, but he just didn't want to be anywhere else but with Juliet. Sure, he had just spent an entire night and an entire day with her, but every minute without her felt like way too much time. She was addictive and he needed his fix every hour of every day, it seemed.
The clicking of her high heels across the hardwood floor was a sound that would forever turn him on, he didn't even have to be looking at her. It was just the knowing, the mere visual of the way the sexy spikes elongated her legs and boosted her tight derriere, that made him salivate on command.
On instinct he turned around and peered over the couch, the sight of her walking into the room making his jaw drop and his heart stop. He was barely able to drop his phone clumsily onto the end table as his eyes and his head shamelessly followed the dark-haired woman as she slowed to a stop in front of him and looked down at him, her hands resting on her hips. "Holy fuck," he muttered in a whisper.
The dress was black and sheer. He could see straight through it and she wore absolutely nothing underneath. It had no straps and it barely covered her chest or her thighs and he resisted the urge to reach up and touch her in that moment. Besides the fact that it was sheer, the dress had a few strategically-placed cut-outs designed for the perfected art of driving a man insane. Leaving something to the imagination while leaving nothing to the imagination--Eric didn't even know that was physically possible. Her long, lean, sculpted legs stopped with a pair of platform heels with straps around the ankles and her hair cascaded in its natural waves down one of her shoulders. In an instant, his pants tightened and his breathing quickened as his eyes drank in every inch of her.
"Well," she smirked, raising an eyebrow. "I know it's getting near time for you to leave. And strip clubs can be so boring with their rules and restrictions and what have you. So I thought...maybe you might want to have a little unrestricted fun before you head out. For free. That way your night isn't a total waste."
He felt like an idiot, the way he couldn't form words. Waste? Tonight wasn't a waste. It was just getting started. And what the fuck strip club was she even talking about?
Before he could learn how to respond, he watched in agony as she walked--no, sauntered--across the room and turned on the stereo. Something soft and slow came on through the speakers. He had no idea what it was and he didn't care. All he knew was that the one lamp that shined in the otherwise dark apartment quickly created the perfect atmosphere and he bit his bottom lip in anticipation.
Her hips sashayed their way back to him and his anticipation only grew and grew--both figuratively and literally. Surprisingly, though, uncertainty flashed in her eyes and for a moment, her hidden innocence prevailed. "Is this okay?"
Was it okay? Was she fucking kidding? He raised his eyebrows and said to her matter-of-factly, "If you don't have your ass on my lap in the next two seconds, I may very well die of a heart attack right here. I'm not even kidding. Come. Here."
She grinned at him and she slid one of her knees onto his thigh as she swung her long hair to the other shoulder. Sliding a finger beneath the sheer seam of the bottom of her dress, he asked her, "Why do you even own this stuff anyway? I thought you never had men over?"
"Can we talk about that later? I'm kind of in the middle of something, here."
Fuck, she was sexy. The way she smelled, the way she felt, the way she moved on him...he was horrified when she didn't allow him to touch her. "Just experience it for a minute," she purred at him. "Then maybe if you're good..."
"Maybe, my ass."
"Maybe my ass," she smirked.
Eric was in love.
Things were beginning to get heated rather quickly. Juliet had turned herself on faster than she'd expected to and in no time at all, Eric's hands were all over her. She had peeled off his shirt and had just managed to release him from his denim prison when his cell phone rang. Eric couldn't have given a shit about that damn phone. He was content to let it ring. Juliet, however, was not. "You gotta shut that thing up," she breathed. "It's killing my mood. We don't want to kill my mood, do we?"
With a quickness, he picked up his phone and swiped his finger over it to ignore the call. He didn't remember even looking to see who it was before he slammed it back down on the end table and he didn't care. The point was, it wasn't ringing anymore and Juliet was lowering herself onto his dick and shoving her dress down past her breasts. Who needed a bachelor party? Eric was having a million times the Saturday night the rest of those chumps were having.
_______________
In most social situations, it was customary--and much more polite--to greet your company upon arrival before you did anything else. But not Travis. Travis had no shame and strip clubs weren't his scene, so he decided he'd earned his beer for merely walking in the door. Beth had been a little wary of his coming out tonight and, honestly, he had a nagging feeling that he should have just stayed with her. After all, they'd just had a pretty serious conversation the day before that he really would have rathered to continue than to be here on this sketchy street in this sketchy club where he could count the pole burn bruises on the dancers' arms and legs. But his friend was getting married and this was a celebration. If it wasn't for his buddy, he wouldn't even be on this side of the city.
Eric had insisted on meeting Travis there and Travis had to admit disappointment when he found he'd gotten there first. He shouldn't have been surprised. Kyle was a closer friend to Travis than he was Eric. Eric really just hung around because of Travis. But even still, it would have been nice to have not been the first one there.
After having retrieved his beer from the bar, he took a quick look around in search of the group he was meeting. The club was small--very small--and very dark, every corner seeming to be lit up with black lights, lighting up the dancers' neon outfits as they shimmied in the laps of various men. The mirrors along the walls left no mystery to be had and the "stage" was practically floor level, Travis swearing that his bathroom had to have been bigger than the platform the ladies performed on. The areas reserved for private dances weren't private at all and the lone ATM machine sat along a wall much too close to the bar and much too close to the bathroom--and the front door. Who had picked this place, anyway? Of all the classy, upscale, more popular clubs in New York City, who the hell had picked this hole in the wall for his friend's bachelor party? Poor guy. Travis almost felt sorry for him.
But Kyle apparently didn't feel sorry for himself. His friends weren't difficult to spot as they erupted into a fit of laughter across the room. Room. That was a good way to describe the club. Just one, big room.
The men stood there, Kyle and Barry and Jesse and Terrell, along with a few others Travis wasn't familiar with, and they greeted Travis in an uproar as he crossed the room. He had to admit, it did feel pretty good knowing his friends enjoyed his presence so much. Turning up his beer, he looked around and asked, "Whose idea was this?"
"You've never been here before?" Barry asked. "This is one of the most notorious clubs in New York!"
"Yeah?" Travis asked. "Then how come I've never heard of it?"
"Well, it's not mainstream or anything like that," Barry said. "Word on the street is, they get by with a lot in this place because the authorities are more concerned with the more popular clubs in the city, so this one doesn't get busted as often. You wouldn't believe the shit I've seen and experienced in this place."
Travis looked around once more and curled up his nose. "I can only imagine."
"Hey, don't knock it till you try it," Jesse said. "We're gonna get Kyle's fingers wet a little bit tonight since he won't have the option for much longer."
As the other men roared with laughter, Travis raised an eyebrow at the curly-haired bachelor and Kyle only blushed. Poor guy. He was as nervous as he could be. "Yeah, I don't know about all that," Kyle said.
"Well, that's what we have Travis here for," Barry grinned. "If anybody can get the best ladies to show you a good time, it's him. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if he took a couple home for himself tonight!"
Travis smiled and shook his head as he turned up his beer once more. "I don't think so, gentlemen. I don't know if you've heard or not, but Travis Reynolds is officially off the market. And probably will be for a good, long while."
For the first time since Travis had arrived, Terrell grinned, breaking his silent streak. "No shit? Who's the lucky lady? Is it Beth?"
"It is," Travis grinned proudly.
"That's excellent, man, congratulations," Terrell said.
"You tied yourself down, are you kidding?" Barry said. "I'll be damned. Beth who, do I know her?"
"Doubtful. Her name is Beth Knight, she's an architect--"
"She's Juliet Carson's partner in crime," Jesse murmured.
Travis shrugged and nodded. "Well, that's true, yeah--"
"Oh, shit! She's that hot piece that's always with her! You scored that one?" Barry said excitedly.
Travis furrowed his brow, not particularly thrilled with the way his friend referred to Beth. "Are you surprised?"
Barry blinked for a moment, swirling his beer around in his bottle. "No, I guess not. So, hey, where's that brother of yours, anyway, let's get this party started already!"
"He said he'd meet me here," Travis said, catching Terrell's knowing eye.
"Well, it's getting late. I'll call him and find out what's up."
As Barry dialed the number and the group was approached by a couple of the club's ladies, Travis glanced around once more before Barry's naturally loud voice bellowed, "Eric, you bastard, where the hell are you? Eric? Hey, buddy, you there? Eric?"
And then the blood drained from Barry's face as he held the phone away from his ear. "Holy shit!" He said, suddenly managing a giggle. "You guys! You guys, check this shit out, come here! I think he tried to hang up on me!"
Barry put his phone on speaker as the men huddled closer to listen. Travis's eyes widened in horror and his stomach churned at the sounds that could be made out from the phone. "Eric!" The female voice cried out in garbled form through the phone's speaker. "Eric, yes! Don't stop! Don't stop, that feels so good!"
As the sounds of sex continued, the men howled in laughter and chanted encouragement into the phone. If Eric had tried to ignore the call, that meant his phone couldn't have been far away. Why the fuck couldn't he hear any of this shit? Why the fuck wouldn't they stop being immature assholes and hang up the phone already?
Terrell stood there, rubbing his neck, as uncomfortable as Travis was. The longer it went on, the more pissed off he became. "Who do you think it is?" Barry asked. "You think we know her?" Then he turned to Travis. "Dude, who the hell is your brother nailing?"
"None of your business," Travis deadpanned.
Barry laughed. "What is it, some big secret or something?"
"No," Travis said through his teeth. "It's just his business, it's not mine and it's not anybody else's. Hang the fucking phone up already, will you?"
"Fuck, no!" Jesse chimed in. "We're gonna see this shit through till the end!"
"That's my brother, man, come on!" Travis argued. "Stop being a bunch of fuckheads and hang up the phone already!"
"He's right," Terrell's deep voice agreed. "This isn't necessary."
"Hey," another one of the guys said. "If he was stupid enough to answer it, he deserves it."
Finally, Travis had had it. He reached in the middle of the group and tore the phone out of Barry's hand, hanging it up, and shoving it back into his chest. He knew coming out here was a bad idea. He should have stayed home. In fact, that was exactly what he was going to do.
"Hey!" Barry exclaimed angrily. "What the fuck, man? We were just having a little fun, it's not like it was serious."
"Yeah, well, that's my brother. And that makes it serious to me. You know, maybe he was right, staying home and getting laid instead of coming out to this shithole with you fuckers. I'm out, man. This is bullshit. Sorry, Kyle, congratulations on your wedding, dude."
"Hey!" Barry barked. "Hey, fuck you, guy! I always knew you'd eventually turn into a buzz kill just like your brother!"
Waving him off, Travis dropped his empty beer bottle into the trash can before heading out the door. Something in the fresh, cold November night air made him feel more alive, suddenly. More free, more...like an enhanced version of himself. Pulling his cell phone out of his pocket, he resisted the urge to call Eric to chew him out for being so stupid, afraid of what might happen if he answered. So, instead, he called Beth. "Hey, baby," he said softly. "Hey, I decided not to stay at the party. Can I still come over? I kinda want to finish that conversation we started. I've been thinking a lot about it..."
_______________
She stood at the altar of a large, ancient church made of stone and draped in shrouds of deep purple. The carpet beneath her was red as blood and the sun shone through the stained glass windows in blinding beams. Standing beyond her was a very tall priest. To the priest's left stood Travis, his golden hair pulled back in a ponytail, dressed in white riding pants, brown leather boots, white long sleeves, and a tan vest. A golden crown adorned with jewels sat atop his head.
Next to Travis stood Beth, her hair pinned back in long curls, her white gown flowing into a train on the floor. A smaller crown adorned her head and she stood on a step below Travis, her hands folded in front of her, her mouth smiling proudly.
On the opposite side of the altar, before her, stood Eric. He wore the same boots, the same pants, but on him, a long, thick, royal blue cape lined in gold, hung from his shoulders and brushed the floor below him. The same crown sat atop his head and he stood with one foot on the step in front of him as he offered his hand to her.
Looking down at herself, Juliet saw nothing but white, but looking up into Eric's blue eyes showed her warmth and comfort. Reaching out to accept his hand, he jerked his hand away as soon as they touched, his face now reading disgust and betrayal. "She isn't real," he said. "Her skin feels like fire, I saw the spark. She's only a princess on the outside. But inside..."
"She's a witch," Travis finished. "She isn't pure, she isn't holy. She isn't like the rest of us. She tricked you, brother. She tricked us all."
"You know what we must do with witches," the priest said. "It must be done."
"But she's so beautiful," Eric mused.
"That's how she gets you," the priest said. "Through lies and manipulation. Inside, she is the serpent. A black heart full of hate and ruthlessness. You must be rid of her, she's no good for you."
When she saw the flames licking at her feet, she woke up with a gasp, sitting up in the bed, still trying to smother the fire with her hands. Her heart pounded and she struggled to regain her regular breathing. Beside her, in the darkness, Eric slept deep and sound, never stirring at her sudden commotion.
Why was he here? Why didn't he go to the party? Was it guilt? Was it pity? That just because they had sex meant he was obligated to stay with her instead of celebrating his friend's upcoming nuptials? After all, she didn't plan on ditching Beth for him tomorrow. Was that what he expected in return? He made a sacrifice so she had to make one? Was that what this was?
Her mind going a mile a minute now, Juliet got out of bed and felt her way around in the dark, pulling on a pair of fleece pants and a sweatshirt. She ran her hand listlessly through her hair as she padded quietly into the kitchen and turned on the overhead light, letting it blind her to the point of alertness. Fishing her cigarettes from her coffee can that wasn't as inconspicuous as it used to be anymore, she opened the window, curled herself up in the window seat, and blew smoke into the cold, outside air. She shouldn't be doing this, smoking with Eric in the apartment. He didn't know she smoked. What would he think? Would it be a turn off? A deal breaker? After all, she didn't know how he felt about smoking. It was one of the many bases they hadn't covered yet.
At the moment, she couldn't allow herself to worry about what Eric thought of her smoking. Right now, she needed the cigarette. She needed it to calm her nerves. She needed it to help her forget about the dream she'd just had. She was the serpent. Princess on the outside, black on the inside. Eric couldn't touch her without getting hurt and yet he'd still tried to defend her beauty after Travis and the priest had already decided to burn her at the stake. Eric was good. A good, kind, caring man with a heart made of the purest of gold. And then there was Juliet--a woman who'd lived her entire life in the comforting arms of hate, resentment, and distrust. Her dream was right. She was no good for him.
In this fairy tale, he was Beauty and she was The Beast.
She sighed and rubbed her forehead, allowing her head to collapse into her palm for a moment. What did he see in her, anyway? God, she hated herself so much sometimes. She'd spent countless nights, night after night, wishing she could be more like Beth. That she could be normal, that she could date men and actually be interested in the man, and not just how he looked and what he might have below the belt. Anytime she desired any action, her dates were always the same, every time, without fail--dinner, drinks, back to his place for a little woman-on-top. Her dates never lasted more than a few hours. She never stayed over. And she faked her way through the conversations, never giving a shit about what they had to say. Caring would have been nice. Being genuinely interested in a man and his well-being would have been refreshing. But how could she show compassion to a man that she knew was in it for the exact same reason she was? How could she respect a man like that?
She couldn't. And she didn't.
And then here came Eric Reynolds. He swept her off her feet with only one look at her on the balcony she sat on in that restaurant. It was as if he was Romeo and she was Juliet--oh, God. She shook her head to herself and took a long drag of her cigarette. The Romeo to her Juliet, huh? How painfully cliché.
Except that the Capulet was a pure, clean, innocent virgin. The bitch.
Juliet hadn't even known Eric was in the room until he sat across from her on her tiny window seat in nothing but a pair of sweatpants, tucking a leg underneath him and gently removing the half-smoked cigarette from between her fingers. Taking a drag for himself, he blew the smoke out the window and he looked at her. "You wanna talk about it?"
She could only blink at him, speechless, as he took another drag. "I didn't know you were a smoker," she finally managed to spit out.
"I'm not," he replied. "Well, not anymore. I used to be, though. Been clean for about three years." Then he paused and looked at the cigarette and smiled. "Until now, anyway."
Her face fell and her shoulders slumped in defeat. It was already starting. She was a horrible influence on him. She was a witch. Poor Eric. That poor, sweet man. He should run while he still could.
"In case you haven't noticed, my self-control is unbelievable. Believe me, if I wanted to resist this, I would have."
"Why didn't you?" She whispered.
"Because I woke up and you were gone." He paused to take another drag before he passed it back to her. "That seems to be a pattern with us, huh? I did it because I'm willing to do anything it takes to understand you. To feel what you're feeling and know what you're thinking--"
"Why would you do such things to yourself?"
"Because I want to. And because you need me to."
"I don't need--"
"Okay," he interrupted suddenly. "Fine. Just say the word and I'm out the door. Right now."
She could only look at him. Her heart pounded with more fear than she'd expected it to. She didn't want him to leave. Please, good Lord, stay. Please stay.
"You can't say it, can you?" He whispered gently. "You can't tell me you don't need me."
She ran her hand through her hair and her hand trembled as she took a long, deep drag from her cigarette, letting the smoke blow out through her mouth and her nose. "This is insane," she said, her voice wavering as she shook her head. "You and I, we--we barely know each other."
"You're wrong."
"I'm not. Two weeks ago I--I met you in this very same bed and--well, up until last night, we hadn't spoken at all. How can I--how can you--how can we--?"
"Sometimes life has no explanations," he said. "Sometimes life just is. Sometimes life is just beautiful and sometimes fate is just fate. We are all of those things, Juliet. We need no rhyme or reason, we just work. We just are. And if you sit there and tell me that you didn't physically feel something in you the first time you looked at me, you're lying. Don't be a liar."
Juliet tucked her hand under her hair and rubbed the back of her neck, unable to look Eric in the eye. If he was right, then she was nowhere close to any answers than she was from the first moment. She was still just as lost and confused and insecure. It was so easy. All she had to do was let him in. That was it. That was all she had to do.
"You got another one of those?" His quiet voice asked her.
"Are you gonna resent me for this?"
He smiled and shook his head. "No," he replied with quiet reassurance.
Retrieving another cigarette for each of them, they took a moment to light them and take the first drags. "Do you resent me for not going to that party tonight?"
He furrowed his brow at her and crinkled his nose in disgust. "No."
"I mean, your friend's getting married. He would have wanted you there--"
"He's not a close friend. An acquaintance, really. If I wanted to go, I would have gone."
"Oh. Well, I just...um..."
"Did you want me to go? Has this weekend been too much, am I being a burden--?"
"No," she shot out, sounding more desperate than she'd intended. "No. No, I just--I feel like I tricked you out of going. And I want you to know I'm not that person--I think. If you want to go out with your friends, don't let me stop you--"
Eric chuckled, amused. "Because I'm supposed to say no while you're in the midst of seducing me. Got it."
"No," she smiled. "I'm just...you're not getting it--"
"Yes, I am," he said, his smile softening. "I get what you're trying to say. I don't feel tricked or manipulated or guilted or any of those things. I'm here because I want to be."
"Will your friend be upset?"
"If he is, he'll get over it."
The pair were quiet for a few moments as they smoked and blew their smoke out the window. Breaking the silence again, Eric asked, "So why are you out here?"
"What do you see in me? I mean--why me?"
"Well," he replied, flicking his ashes out the window. "The first thing I noticed about you were your legs."
"Oh, wow," she laughed, rolling her eyes.
He smiled back at her. "And then your smile. It was your smile that drew me in, I was done for. I didn't even know your name. I asked the waiter to get it for me and he rattled it off and looked at me like I had the IQ of a potato or something. How was I supposed to know you were famous?"
"I'm not famous," she replied, shaking her head.
"Then I stalked you," he admitted. "Well, I didn't actually stalk you in the true sense of the word, but I researched you, I kept up with you in the news--I had it so bad, Jules, it almost wasn't healthy. The benefit sort of came up by chance and Beth inviting me to your party--well, that was just fate. But over those months that I kept up with you, I learned what the headlines wanted me to know. I learned about your company and your charity work--I never delved into your personal life because that wasn't my business. Pictures of you on construction sites made me smile--any picture of you smiling was worth a thousand words to me. And to meet you in person is like...no headline could ever do you justice, Juliet."
She tucked her hair behind her ear nervously, her eyes darting around the room. "Um, I don't...I don't really know what to do with that."
"I'm not crazy. Please don't think I'm weird. But you blew me off that night and I couldn't get my mind off of you--Jules, I'm crazy about you. I have been since day one, it's like I'm under some kind of spell--"
She scoffed and took a drag of her cigarette. "Funny you should say that word. Spell. I had a dream that we were in a church. Or a castle, maybe. And you and Travis were princes and we all stood at an altar. And you touched me and I hurt you. And then you accused me of not being real and then you burned me at the stake."
"Juliet--" He breathed.
"It was just a dream, it's not like I can control it. But you know they say dreams are representations of things you're going through in real life--"
"I know where this is going--"
"But I am real, Eric," she said, her eyes beginning to tear up in spite of herself.
"Is that what woke you up?"
Juliet nodded. "I'm scared. I'm so scared to get too close to you because someday I might touch you and it will hurt you. Someday your feelings for me will change, I won't be the person on the inside that you think I am, even though--this is me." Her lip began to quiver uncontrollably. "I'm broken. And I'm complicated. And--and I don't know who I am anymore. But the only thing I do know is that you're the only man I've ever met that's made me realize that there is hope. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry if this is sudden or forward or creepy or whatever, but I'm so mixed up and I'm so confused..." Her voice trailed off as the tears began to fall, and she only grew angrier with herself for letting her emotions take over like that.
He scooted forward as best he could, plucking her cigarette out of her hand and putting both of theirs out, and then he took her in his arms. "Shh," he said, stroking her hair. "I'm not going to burn you at the stake," he whispered. "You're not going to hurt me when you touch me and I am certainly no prince. Unless I was a king. If we're going this route, I'd really rather be a king."
She managed a giggle into his chest and it felt good. He seemed to always know how to say the right things to put a smile on her face. "I only saw a priest. And you and Travis. And you had on this big, blue cape lined in gold--Travis didn't wear a cape."
"I'll take it." Then he pressed his lips into her hair in silence for a moment. "I understand your fears," he said quietly. "I'm afraid, too. But it's a good kind of afraid. You're always taking risks in relationships, Juliet. None of them are perfect. But, yet, they're all perfect in their own way. And maybe in an outsider's eyes what we have is new and unstable and imperfect--but it's perfect for us. Don't you think?"
She pulled away and she wiped her eyes and she looked at him. "I had never intended to be exclusive with anyone ever again. What I went through with my husband, that was--that was enough to swear me off of any kind of relationship for as long as I live, but--but where did you come from? I just...can't get enough of you and that's never happened to me before. Eric, I--I want to try. I want to try to be with you. You know, the way it's supposed to be. Just you and me. You know?" Then she laughed sheepishly and she looked around nervously. "Fuck, I don't even know what I'm trying to say--"
"You're saying what I've wanted to hear since the day I met you," he smiled.
"It won't be easy."
"I know."
"And I need to take this slow. Very slow. One step at a time."
"Anything you want," he said gently.
She stared at him for a moment before she suddenly let out a laugh that she could barely finish for her lack of breathing. "Oh my god, I don't even know what I'm doing right now. Are we--we're really doing this?"
"Yeah," he smiled back. "Yeah, I think we are."
Her grin widened as tears brimmed her eyes. This time not from sadness, but from the pure overwhelming of emotions that came over her. Happiness, fear, nervousness, and joy...she'd never felt so many emotions until she met Eric. She had never felt more alive.
"Why don't we go back to sleep?" He suggested. "There's only so much of this weekend we have left."
"Oh," she said, suddenly realizing what day it was. "About that. I'm going to need you out of here no later than nine in the morning."
"What?" He asked, caught off guard.
"I like you," she said seriously. "I like you a lot, I want to spend every minute of every day with you--except for Sunday mornings. Those are reserved for Beth. We've been spending Sunday mornings together for nearly ten years now and nobody's going to change that, not even you. Or Travis."
He blinked at her, fighting the smile that his eyes couldn't hide, and he nodded. "Okay. Okay, I can live with that. I gotta spend some time in the gym anyway, no sweat."
Was this what happiness felt like? Free and easy, as if you were floating on air, drunk on emotion, seemingly without a care in the world? Was being in a relationship really this easy? Had she been making a big deal out of nothing? Depriving herself for too long over false fears?
Juliet didn't know. But what she did know was that curled up in bed in this man's arms was the only place she ever wanted to be.
Spending the afternoon with Juliet was quiet literally the most fun Eric had had in awhile. Besides visiting the building his company would be tearing down and getting a virtual hard-on at the idea of destroying the place and erecting a new one, he had seen a lust for life in her that he hadn't picked up on before.
The great thing about New York City was that no matter how long you lived there, there was always something new to be discovered. Always a new stone to turn, a new corner to round, a new structure to admire...and an endless supply of smiles on Juliet Carson's face. The city looked good on her. It suited her and she suited the city. To look at her and to get caught up in her laughter, you would never know that she came from a horrible childhood in a small, forgettable town in Kentucky. As she took him by the hand with excitement and drank in random wonders of the city with childlike delight, Eric was the happiest he had ever been. In fact, he'd been noticing that quite a bit recently.
The pair liked to have frozen to death in the early November air, but neither of them cared. After having stopped for a late lunch which turned into cocktails closer to dinner time, they finally stumbled in the door of Juliet's apartment, breathless with laughter at a joke Eric had cracked and that Juliet had taken to a new level.
Removing his coat and collapsing down on the couch, Eric pulled his cell phone from his pocket after Juliet had disappeared into her bedroom. It was getting closer to time for the bachelor party to start and the truth was, he didn't really want to go. He didn't know if this made him a sap or a loser or any number of things that might get him made fun of, but he just didn't want to be anywhere else but with Juliet. Sure, he had just spent an entire night and an entire day with her, but every minute without her felt like way too much time. She was addictive and he needed his fix every hour of every day, it seemed.
The clicking of her high heels across the hardwood floor was a sound that would forever turn him on, he didn't even have to be looking at her. It was just the knowing, the mere visual of the way the sexy spikes elongated her legs and boosted her tight derriere, that made him salivate on command.
On instinct he turned around and peered over the couch, the sight of her walking into the room making his jaw drop and his heart stop. He was barely able to drop his phone clumsily onto the end table as his eyes and his head shamelessly followed the dark-haired woman as she slowed to a stop in front of him and looked down at him, her hands resting on her hips. "Holy fuck," he muttered in a whisper.
The dress was black and sheer. He could see straight through it and she wore absolutely nothing underneath. It had no straps and it barely covered her chest or her thighs and he resisted the urge to reach up and touch her in that moment. Besides the fact that it was sheer, the dress had a few strategically-placed cut-outs designed for the perfected art of driving a man insane. Leaving something to the imagination while leaving nothing to the imagination--Eric didn't even know that was physically possible. Her long, lean, sculpted legs stopped with a pair of platform heels with straps around the ankles and her hair cascaded in its natural waves down one of her shoulders. In an instant, his pants tightened and his breathing quickened as his eyes drank in every inch of her.
"Well," she smirked, raising an eyebrow. "I know it's getting near time for you to leave. And strip clubs can be so boring with their rules and restrictions and what have you. So I thought...maybe you might want to have a little unrestricted fun before you head out. For free. That way your night isn't a total waste."
He felt like an idiot, the way he couldn't form words. Waste? Tonight wasn't a waste. It was just getting started. And what the fuck strip club was she even talking about?
Before he could learn how to respond, he watched in agony as she walked--no, sauntered--across the room and turned on the stereo. Something soft and slow came on through the speakers. He had no idea what it was and he didn't care. All he knew was that the one lamp that shined in the otherwise dark apartment quickly created the perfect atmosphere and he bit his bottom lip in anticipation.
Her hips sashayed their way back to him and his anticipation only grew and grew--both figuratively and literally. Surprisingly, though, uncertainty flashed in her eyes and for a moment, her hidden innocence prevailed. "Is this okay?"
Was it okay? Was she fucking kidding? He raised his eyebrows and said to her matter-of-factly, "If you don't have your ass on my lap in the next two seconds, I may very well die of a heart attack right here. I'm not even kidding. Come. Here."
She grinned at him and she slid one of her knees onto his thigh as she swung her long hair to the other shoulder. Sliding a finger beneath the sheer seam of the bottom of her dress, he asked her, "Why do you even own this stuff anyway? I thought you never had men over?"
"Can we talk about that later? I'm kind of in the middle of something, here."
Fuck, she was sexy. The way she smelled, the way she felt, the way she moved on him...he was horrified when she didn't allow him to touch her. "Just experience it for a minute," she purred at him. "Then maybe if you're good..."
"Maybe, my ass."
"Maybe my ass," she smirked.
Eric was in love.
Things were beginning to get heated rather quickly. Juliet had turned herself on faster than she'd expected to and in no time at all, Eric's hands were all over her. She had peeled off his shirt and had just managed to release him from his denim prison when his cell phone rang. Eric couldn't have given a shit about that damn phone. He was content to let it ring. Juliet, however, was not. "You gotta shut that thing up," she breathed. "It's killing my mood. We don't want to kill my mood, do we?"
With a quickness, he picked up his phone and swiped his finger over it to ignore the call. He didn't remember even looking to see who it was before he slammed it back down on the end table and he didn't care. The point was, it wasn't ringing anymore and Juliet was lowering herself onto his dick and shoving her dress down past her breasts. Who needed a bachelor party? Eric was having a million times the Saturday night the rest of those chumps were having.
_______________
In most social situations, it was customary--and much more polite--to greet your company upon arrival before you did anything else. But not Travis. Travis had no shame and strip clubs weren't his scene, so he decided he'd earned his beer for merely walking in the door. Beth had been a little wary of his coming out tonight and, honestly, he had a nagging feeling that he should have just stayed with her. After all, they'd just had a pretty serious conversation the day before that he really would have rathered to continue than to be here on this sketchy street in this sketchy club where he could count the pole burn bruises on the dancers' arms and legs. But his friend was getting married and this was a celebration. If it wasn't for his buddy, he wouldn't even be on this side of the city.
Eric had insisted on meeting Travis there and Travis had to admit disappointment when he found he'd gotten there first. He shouldn't have been surprised. Kyle was a closer friend to Travis than he was Eric. Eric really just hung around because of Travis. But even still, it would have been nice to have not been the first one there.
After having retrieved his beer from the bar, he took a quick look around in search of the group he was meeting. The club was small--very small--and very dark, every corner seeming to be lit up with black lights, lighting up the dancers' neon outfits as they shimmied in the laps of various men. The mirrors along the walls left no mystery to be had and the "stage" was practically floor level, Travis swearing that his bathroom had to have been bigger than the platform the ladies performed on. The areas reserved for private dances weren't private at all and the lone ATM machine sat along a wall much too close to the bar and much too close to the bathroom--and the front door. Who had picked this place, anyway? Of all the classy, upscale, more popular clubs in New York City, who the hell had picked this hole in the wall for his friend's bachelor party? Poor guy. Travis almost felt sorry for him.
But Kyle apparently didn't feel sorry for himself. His friends weren't difficult to spot as they erupted into a fit of laughter across the room. Room. That was a good way to describe the club. Just one, big room.
The men stood there, Kyle and Barry and Jesse and Terrell, along with a few others Travis wasn't familiar with, and they greeted Travis in an uproar as he crossed the room. He had to admit, it did feel pretty good knowing his friends enjoyed his presence so much. Turning up his beer, he looked around and asked, "Whose idea was this?"
"You've never been here before?" Barry asked. "This is one of the most notorious clubs in New York!"
"Yeah?" Travis asked. "Then how come I've never heard of it?"
"Well, it's not mainstream or anything like that," Barry said. "Word on the street is, they get by with a lot in this place because the authorities are more concerned with the more popular clubs in the city, so this one doesn't get busted as often. You wouldn't believe the shit I've seen and experienced in this place."
Travis looked around once more and curled up his nose. "I can only imagine."
"Hey, don't knock it till you try it," Jesse said. "We're gonna get Kyle's fingers wet a little bit tonight since he won't have the option for much longer."
As the other men roared with laughter, Travis raised an eyebrow at the curly-haired bachelor and Kyle only blushed. Poor guy. He was as nervous as he could be. "Yeah, I don't know about all that," Kyle said.
"Well, that's what we have Travis here for," Barry grinned. "If anybody can get the best ladies to show you a good time, it's him. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if he took a couple home for himself tonight!"
Travis smiled and shook his head as he turned up his beer once more. "I don't think so, gentlemen. I don't know if you've heard or not, but Travis Reynolds is officially off the market. And probably will be for a good, long while."
For the first time since Travis had arrived, Terrell grinned, breaking his silent streak. "No shit? Who's the lucky lady? Is it Beth?"
"It is," Travis grinned proudly.
"That's excellent, man, congratulations," Terrell said.
"You tied yourself down, are you kidding?" Barry said. "I'll be damned. Beth who, do I know her?"
"Doubtful. Her name is Beth Knight, she's an architect--"
"She's Juliet Carson's partner in crime," Jesse murmured.
Travis shrugged and nodded. "Well, that's true, yeah--"
"Oh, shit! She's that hot piece that's always with her! You scored that one?" Barry said excitedly.
Travis furrowed his brow, not particularly thrilled with the way his friend referred to Beth. "Are you surprised?"
Barry blinked for a moment, swirling his beer around in his bottle. "No, I guess not. So, hey, where's that brother of yours, anyway, let's get this party started already!"
"He said he'd meet me here," Travis said, catching Terrell's knowing eye.
"Well, it's getting late. I'll call him and find out what's up."
As Barry dialed the number and the group was approached by a couple of the club's ladies, Travis glanced around once more before Barry's naturally loud voice bellowed, "Eric, you bastard, where the hell are you? Eric? Hey, buddy, you there? Eric?"
And then the blood drained from Barry's face as he held the phone away from his ear. "Holy shit!" He said, suddenly managing a giggle. "You guys! You guys, check this shit out, come here! I think he tried to hang up on me!"
Barry put his phone on speaker as the men huddled closer to listen. Travis's eyes widened in horror and his stomach churned at the sounds that could be made out from the phone. "Eric!" The female voice cried out in garbled form through the phone's speaker. "Eric, yes! Don't stop! Don't stop, that feels so good!"
As the sounds of sex continued, the men howled in laughter and chanted encouragement into the phone. If Eric had tried to ignore the call, that meant his phone couldn't have been far away. Why the fuck couldn't he hear any of this shit? Why the fuck wouldn't they stop being immature assholes and hang up the phone already?
Terrell stood there, rubbing his neck, as uncomfortable as Travis was. The longer it went on, the more pissed off he became. "Who do you think it is?" Barry asked. "You think we know her?" Then he turned to Travis. "Dude, who the hell is your brother nailing?"
"None of your business," Travis deadpanned.
Barry laughed. "What is it, some big secret or something?"
"No," Travis said through his teeth. "It's just his business, it's not mine and it's not anybody else's. Hang the fucking phone up already, will you?"
"Fuck, no!" Jesse chimed in. "We're gonna see this shit through till the end!"
"That's my brother, man, come on!" Travis argued. "Stop being a bunch of fuckheads and hang up the phone already!"
"He's right," Terrell's deep voice agreed. "This isn't necessary."
"Hey," another one of the guys said. "If he was stupid enough to answer it, he deserves it."
Finally, Travis had had it. He reached in the middle of the group and tore the phone out of Barry's hand, hanging it up, and shoving it back into his chest. He knew coming out here was a bad idea. He should have stayed home. In fact, that was exactly what he was going to do.
"Hey!" Barry exclaimed angrily. "What the fuck, man? We were just having a little fun, it's not like it was serious."
"Yeah, well, that's my brother. And that makes it serious to me. You know, maybe he was right, staying home and getting laid instead of coming out to this shithole with you fuckers. I'm out, man. This is bullshit. Sorry, Kyle, congratulations on your wedding, dude."
"Hey!" Barry barked. "Hey, fuck you, guy! I always knew you'd eventually turn into a buzz kill just like your brother!"
Waving him off, Travis dropped his empty beer bottle into the trash can before heading out the door. Something in the fresh, cold November night air made him feel more alive, suddenly. More free, more...like an enhanced version of himself. Pulling his cell phone out of his pocket, he resisted the urge to call Eric to chew him out for being so stupid, afraid of what might happen if he answered. So, instead, he called Beth. "Hey, baby," he said softly. "Hey, I decided not to stay at the party. Can I still come over? I kinda want to finish that conversation we started. I've been thinking a lot about it..."
_______________
She stood at the altar of a large, ancient church made of stone and draped in shrouds of deep purple. The carpet beneath her was red as blood and the sun shone through the stained glass windows in blinding beams. Standing beyond her was a very tall priest. To the priest's left stood Travis, his golden hair pulled back in a ponytail, dressed in white riding pants, brown leather boots, white long sleeves, and a tan vest. A golden crown adorned with jewels sat atop his head.
Next to Travis stood Beth, her hair pinned back in long curls, her white gown flowing into a train on the floor. A smaller crown adorned her head and she stood on a step below Travis, her hands folded in front of her, her mouth smiling proudly.
On the opposite side of the altar, before her, stood Eric. He wore the same boots, the same pants, but on him, a long, thick, royal blue cape lined in gold, hung from his shoulders and brushed the floor below him. The same crown sat atop his head and he stood with one foot on the step in front of him as he offered his hand to her.
Looking down at herself, Juliet saw nothing but white, but looking up into Eric's blue eyes showed her warmth and comfort. Reaching out to accept his hand, he jerked his hand away as soon as they touched, his face now reading disgust and betrayal. "She isn't real," he said. "Her skin feels like fire, I saw the spark. She's only a princess on the outside. But inside..."
"She's a witch," Travis finished. "She isn't pure, she isn't holy. She isn't like the rest of us. She tricked you, brother. She tricked us all."
"You know what we must do with witches," the priest said. "It must be done."
"But she's so beautiful," Eric mused.
"That's how she gets you," the priest said. "Through lies and manipulation. Inside, she is the serpent. A black heart full of hate and ruthlessness. You must be rid of her, she's no good for you."
When she saw the flames licking at her feet, she woke up with a gasp, sitting up in the bed, still trying to smother the fire with her hands. Her heart pounded and she struggled to regain her regular breathing. Beside her, in the darkness, Eric slept deep and sound, never stirring at her sudden commotion.
Why was he here? Why didn't he go to the party? Was it guilt? Was it pity? That just because they had sex meant he was obligated to stay with her instead of celebrating his friend's upcoming nuptials? After all, she didn't plan on ditching Beth for him tomorrow. Was that what he expected in return? He made a sacrifice so she had to make one? Was that what this was?
Her mind going a mile a minute now, Juliet got out of bed and felt her way around in the dark, pulling on a pair of fleece pants and a sweatshirt. She ran her hand listlessly through her hair as she padded quietly into the kitchen and turned on the overhead light, letting it blind her to the point of alertness. Fishing her cigarettes from her coffee can that wasn't as inconspicuous as it used to be anymore, she opened the window, curled herself up in the window seat, and blew smoke into the cold, outside air. She shouldn't be doing this, smoking with Eric in the apartment. He didn't know she smoked. What would he think? Would it be a turn off? A deal breaker? After all, she didn't know how he felt about smoking. It was one of the many bases they hadn't covered yet.
At the moment, she couldn't allow herself to worry about what Eric thought of her smoking. Right now, she needed the cigarette. She needed it to calm her nerves. She needed it to help her forget about the dream she'd just had. She was the serpent. Princess on the outside, black on the inside. Eric couldn't touch her without getting hurt and yet he'd still tried to defend her beauty after Travis and the priest had already decided to burn her at the stake. Eric was good. A good, kind, caring man with a heart made of the purest of gold. And then there was Juliet--a woman who'd lived her entire life in the comforting arms of hate, resentment, and distrust. Her dream was right. She was no good for him.
In this fairy tale, he was Beauty and she was The Beast.
She sighed and rubbed her forehead, allowing her head to collapse into her palm for a moment. What did he see in her, anyway? God, she hated herself so much sometimes. She'd spent countless nights, night after night, wishing she could be more like Beth. That she could be normal, that she could date men and actually be interested in the man, and not just how he looked and what he might have below the belt. Anytime she desired any action, her dates were always the same, every time, without fail--dinner, drinks, back to his place for a little woman-on-top. Her dates never lasted more than a few hours. She never stayed over. And she faked her way through the conversations, never giving a shit about what they had to say. Caring would have been nice. Being genuinely interested in a man and his well-being would have been refreshing. But how could she show compassion to a man that she knew was in it for the exact same reason she was? How could she respect a man like that?
She couldn't. And she didn't.
And then here came Eric Reynolds. He swept her off her feet with only one look at her on the balcony she sat on in that restaurant. It was as if he was Romeo and she was Juliet--oh, God. She shook her head to herself and took a long drag of her cigarette. The Romeo to her Juliet, huh? How painfully cliché.
Except that the Capulet was a pure, clean, innocent virgin. The bitch.
Juliet hadn't even known Eric was in the room until he sat across from her on her tiny window seat in nothing but a pair of sweatpants, tucking a leg underneath him and gently removing the half-smoked cigarette from between her fingers. Taking a drag for himself, he blew the smoke out the window and he looked at her. "You wanna talk about it?"
She could only blink at him, speechless, as he took another drag. "I didn't know you were a smoker," she finally managed to spit out.
"I'm not," he replied. "Well, not anymore. I used to be, though. Been clean for about three years." Then he paused and looked at the cigarette and smiled. "Until now, anyway."
Her face fell and her shoulders slumped in defeat. It was already starting. She was a horrible influence on him. She was a witch. Poor Eric. That poor, sweet man. He should run while he still could.
"In case you haven't noticed, my self-control is unbelievable. Believe me, if I wanted to resist this, I would have."
"Why didn't you?" She whispered.
"Because I woke up and you were gone." He paused to take another drag before he passed it back to her. "That seems to be a pattern with us, huh? I did it because I'm willing to do anything it takes to understand you. To feel what you're feeling and know what you're thinking--"
"Why would you do such things to yourself?"
"Because I want to. And because you need me to."
"I don't need--"
"Okay," he interrupted suddenly. "Fine. Just say the word and I'm out the door. Right now."
She could only look at him. Her heart pounded with more fear than she'd expected it to. She didn't want him to leave. Please, good Lord, stay. Please stay.
"You can't say it, can you?" He whispered gently. "You can't tell me you don't need me."
She ran her hand through her hair and her hand trembled as she took a long, deep drag from her cigarette, letting the smoke blow out through her mouth and her nose. "This is insane," she said, her voice wavering as she shook her head. "You and I, we--we barely know each other."
"You're wrong."
"I'm not. Two weeks ago I--I met you in this very same bed and--well, up until last night, we hadn't spoken at all. How can I--how can you--how can we--?"
"Sometimes life has no explanations," he said. "Sometimes life just is. Sometimes life is just beautiful and sometimes fate is just fate. We are all of those things, Juliet. We need no rhyme or reason, we just work. We just are. And if you sit there and tell me that you didn't physically feel something in you the first time you looked at me, you're lying. Don't be a liar."
Juliet tucked her hand under her hair and rubbed the back of her neck, unable to look Eric in the eye. If he was right, then she was nowhere close to any answers than she was from the first moment. She was still just as lost and confused and insecure. It was so easy. All she had to do was let him in. That was it. That was all she had to do.
"You got another one of those?" His quiet voice asked her.
"Are you gonna resent me for this?"
He smiled and shook his head. "No," he replied with quiet reassurance.
Retrieving another cigarette for each of them, they took a moment to light them and take the first drags. "Do you resent me for not going to that party tonight?"
He furrowed his brow at her and crinkled his nose in disgust. "No."
"I mean, your friend's getting married. He would have wanted you there--"
"He's not a close friend. An acquaintance, really. If I wanted to go, I would have gone."
"Oh. Well, I just...um..."
"Did you want me to go? Has this weekend been too much, am I being a burden--?"
"No," she shot out, sounding more desperate than she'd intended. "No. No, I just--I feel like I tricked you out of going. And I want you to know I'm not that person--I think. If you want to go out with your friends, don't let me stop you--"
Eric chuckled, amused. "Because I'm supposed to say no while you're in the midst of seducing me. Got it."
"No," she smiled. "I'm just...you're not getting it--"
"Yes, I am," he said, his smile softening. "I get what you're trying to say. I don't feel tricked or manipulated or guilted or any of those things. I'm here because I want to be."
"Will your friend be upset?"
"If he is, he'll get over it."
The pair were quiet for a few moments as they smoked and blew their smoke out the window. Breaking the silence again, Eric asked, "So why are you out here?"
"What do you see in me? I mean--why me?"
"Well," he replied, flicking his ashes out the window. "The first thing I noticed about you were your legs."
"Oh, wow," she laughed, rolling her eyes.
He smiled back at her. "And then your smile. It was your smile that drew me in, I was done for. I didn't even know your name. I asked the waiter to get it for me and he rattled it off and looked at me like I had the IQ of a potato or something. How was I supposed to know you were famous?"
"I'm not famous," she replied, shaking her head.
"Then I stalked you," he admitted. "Well, I didn't actually stalk you in the true sense of the word, but I researched you, I kept up with you in the news--I had it so bad, Jules, it almost wasn't healthy. The benefit sort of came up by chance and Beth inviting me to your party--well, that was just fate. But over those months that I kept up with you, I learned what the headlines wanted me to know. I learned about your company and your charity work--I never delved into your personal life because that wasn't my business. Pictures of you on construction sites made me smile--any picture of you smiling was worth a thousand words to me. And to meet you in person is like...no headline could ever do you justice, Juliet."
She tucked her hair behind her ear nervously, her eyes darting around the room. "Um, I don't...I don't really know what to do with that."
"I'm not crazy. Please don't think I'm weird. But you blew me off that night and I couldn't get my mind off of you--Jules, I'm crazy about you. I have been since day one, it's like I'm under some kind of spell--"
She scoffed and took a drag of her cigarette. "Funny you should say that word. Spell. I had a dream that we were in a church. Or a castle, maybe. And you and Travis were princes and we all stood at an altar. And you touched me and I hurt you. And then you accused me of not being real and then you burned me at the stake."
"Juliet--" He breathed.
"It was just a dream, it's not like I can control it. But you know they say dreams are representations of things you're going through in real life--"
"I know where this is going--"
"But I am real, Eric," she said, her eyes beginning to tear up in spite of herself.
"Is that what woke you up?"
Juliet nodded. "I'm scared. I'm so scared to get too close to you because someday I might touch you and it will hurt you. Someday your feelings for me will change, I won't be the person on the inside that you think I am, even though--this is me." Her lip began to quiver uncontrollably. "I'm broken. And I'm complicated. And--and I don't know who I am anymore. But the only thing I do know is that you're the only man I've ever met that's made me realize that there is hope. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry if this is sudden or forward or creepy or whatever, but I'm so mixed up and I'm so confused..." Her voice trailed off as the tears began to fall, and she only grew angrier with herself for letting her emotions take over like that.
He scooted forward as best he could, plucking her cigarette out of her hand and putting both of theirs out, and then he took her in his arms. "Shh," he said, stroking her hair. "I'm not going to burn you at the stake," he whispered. "You're not going to hurt me when you touch me and I am certainly no prince. Unless I was a king. If we're going this route, I'd really rather be a king."
She managed a giggle into his chest and it felt good. He seemed to always know how to say the right things to put a smile on her face. "I only saw a priest. And you and Travis. And you had on this big, blue cape lined in gold--Travis didn't wear a cape."
"I'll take it." Then he pressed his lips into her hair in silence for a moment. "I understand your fears," he said quietly. "I'm afraid, too. But it's a good kind of afraid. You're always taking risks in relationships, Juliet. None of them are perfect. But, yet, they're all perfect in their own way. And maybe in an outsider's eyes what we have is new and unstable and imperfect--but it's perfect for us. Don't you think?"
She pulled away and she wiped her eyes and she looked at him. "I had never intended to be exclusive with anyone ever again. What I went through with my husband, that was--that was enough to swear me off of any kind of relationship for as long as I live, but--but where did you come from? I just...can't get enough of you and that's never happened to me before. Eric, I--I want to try. I want to try to be with you. You know, the way it's supposed to be. Just you and me. You know?" Then she laughed sheepishly and she looked around nervously. "Fuck, I don't even know what I'm trying to say--"
"You're saying what I've wanted to hear since the day I met you," he smiled.
"It won't be easy."
"I know."
"And I need to take this slow. Very slow. One step at a time."
"Anything you want," he said gently.
She stared at him for a moment before she suddenly let out a laugh that she could barely finish for her lack of breathing. "Oh my god, I don't even know what I'm doing right now. Are we--we're really doing this?"
"Yeah," he smiled back. "Yeah, I think we are."
Her grin widened as tears brimmed her eyes. This time not from sadness, but from the pure overwhelming of emotions that came over her. Happiness, fear, nervousness, and joy...she'd never felt so many emotions until she met Eric. She had never felt more alive.
"Why don't we go back to sleep?" He suggested. "There's only so much of this weekend we have left."
"Oh," she said, suddenly realizing what day it was. "About that. I'm going to need you out of here no later than nine in the morning."
"What?" He asked, caught off guard.
"I like you," she said seriously. "I like you a lot, I want to spend every minute of every day with you--except for Sunday mornings. Those are reserved for Beth. We've been spending Sunday mornings together for nearly ten years now and nobody's going to change that, not even you. Or Travis."
He blinked at her, fighting the smile that his eyes couldn't hide, and he nodded. "Okay. Okay, I can live with that. I gotta spend some time in the gym anyway, no sweat."
Was this what happiness felt like? Free and easy, as if you were floating on air, drunk on emotion, seemingly without a care in the world? Was being in a relationship really this easy? Had she been making a big deal out of nothing? Depriving herself for too long over false fears?
Juliet didn't know. But what she did know was that curled up in bed in this man's arms was the only place she ever wanted to be.