Jamison (Beautiful Mine #3) (7 page)

JAMISON

“You want to come up?” I asked when we returned to our street. The sun had long gone down and the sky was dark as midnight. We’d spent all day walking the city, and in an instant, the day had come to an end. Streetlamps lit the space around us, casting shadows on our faces.

We stood outside my apartment building, just the two of us on a near-empty street. We’d walked many miles, sipping hot drinks as Sophie rambled on about anything and everything. If her feet ached in her boots, she never complained once.

Being around her pulled me out of my cold, gray world, and in a weird sort of way, she was kind of magical. I’d never met anyone who lived in the moment more than she did. Sophie Salinger was the living, breathing definition of living life to the fullest.

Her gaze turned up toward the windows above us as she thought about it for a moment. Her lips twitched to the side. “I want to, but I have to open the shop early tomorrow.”

I disguised my disappointment with a tight-lipped nod, never taking my eyes off her. “I understand. I have to work tomorrow, too.”

“I had fun today,” she said, her full lips spreading into a wide smile. Her entire face lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Me too.”

“What are you doing for New Year’s?” she asked, cocking her head to the side. “Vinny’s having this party at the karaoke bar down the street. Mia and I are going. You should come.”

For the last ten years, I’d painted the town red with Daphne each New Year’s Eve. I was looking forward to having a quiet one all to myself for once.

“Please?” Sophie said, clapping her hands together. “Don’t make me beg!”

I stifled a smile.

“I’ll sing anything you want,” she said, her brown eyes gleaming. “Anything. You pick it. I’ll sing it. Nothing off-limits. Not even the Macarena.”

I scratched my brow and shook my head. “I’ll think about it.”

She offered a fake-pout. “Well, I hope you decide to come.”

The wind picked up out of nowhere, blowing her hood behind her shoulders and her hair across her face, making her laugh.

“I’ll see you around, Sophie.”

She smiled and nodded, lifting her hood over her head and turning to sprint back toward her place before the wind blew her away.

***

I’d worn the cufflinks every single day the week after that. Each time I’d catch their reflection, I’d think of Sophie.

We were from two entirely different worlds, living completely different lives, and yet I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Sophie was like a good book. I wanted to get lost in her, in the idea of her. The idea of us. What could be, if only. I tried to imagine the way a girl like her might love. Deeply. Passionately. Without fear.

“Jamison.” The clicking of approaching heels and the nails-on-a-chalkboard voice pulled me out of my daydream. I spun around to see Daphne. “Are you going out tonight? For New Year’s?”

I shook my head as her eyes searched mine. “Staying in.”

“Shame,” she said, reaching her finger across the polished buttons of my jacket and grazing the outline of my embroidered nametag. “I’m going to a party at Hillary and Enzo’s. You want to join me?”

I shook my head again. “Thanks, but no.”

“What is with you lately?” she huffed. “You’re walking around in a daze.”

I grabbed a file from my desk and slipped it under my arm, glancing up at the clock. Daphne stepped into my space, inches from my face. The strong scent of her tuberose perfume that had once enraptured me now suffocated me.

“You okay, Jamison?” she asked with her soothing therapist voice. The energy was charged between us, though it was all coming from her end. She wanted to touch me, to kiss me again. She wanted to pick up right where we’d left off. I could see it in her eyes.

“Absolutely,” I said, brushing past her to leave.

“Did you have a nice Christmas?” she asked in an attempt to stall me.

I stopped and turned back toward her, my lips twisting into a smile as my day with Sophie came to mind. “I did. It was perfect.”

“My mom said to tell your mom hello,” she said.

I threw Daphne a look. She knew damn well I wasn’t on speaking terms with my mother. I spun back around, charging forward and heading back to work.

***

I slipped out of my suit after work and changed into jeans and a button-down shirt, layering a thick, navy sweater on top. By ten o’clock, I slipped on my jacket and shoes and headed down the street to Great Duets.

Even from half a block away, I could hear the thumping of music and I watched as drunk partiers stumbled out of the bar to catch fresh air and a few drags from a cigarette.

I brushed past them, entering the darkness of the bar. My eyes instantly scanned the room for Sophie, spotting her dancing away next to a corner table in her own little world.

“You came!” she shrieked the moment I approached her table. Her face lit and she threw her arms around my neck, pulling me down toward her. She shoved a half-finished beer in my hand, “Here, take this. I’m up next.”

I found a seat at the table next to Mia, hung my coat on the back of the chair, and sat back as the MC introduced Sophie and she hopped up on the stage.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into her lately,” Mia said with a wink, sitting back and waiting to be entertained.

I sipped Sophie’s half-finished beer as the music began to play. A cheesy background with a sunset filled the screen behind her as lyrics scrolled along the bottom.

Sophie’s velvet voice sailed from her full lips with minimal effort as she sang the opening line of
Landslide
.

“Woo!” Mia yelled out as she slipped two fingers in her mouth and added an ear-piercing whistle that immediately drew a laugh from Sophie mid-note.

Bar goers were all glued to the beauty on the stage, serenading the small crowd with a classic Fleetwood Mac tune. Random cheers, hoots, and hollers filled the space around me, and the second Sophie sang her last, final note, she collapsed in half with a hand across her heart, as if it’d taken all the energy she had in that moment, and the patrons erupted into wild applause. She stood back up, brushing the dark waves from her face and smiling as she slid the mic back into the stand and skipped off the stage.

She rushed to our table and sat down, exhilarated and looking to me for approval.

“Well done.” I clapped my hands.

“You get to pick the next one,” she said, reaching for a plastic water cup on the table and quenching her parched throat. She crunched on an ice cube as she smiled at me. Our eyes locked like magnets unable to let go.

“You could sing the phone book, Sophie,” I said. “Pick whatever you want.”

She stood up and sauntered over to me. “Come on. Pick something. Live a little.”

She slipped one lithe arm around my neck and made herself at home in my lap, clearly the result of all the cocktails coursing through her system.

“Pick me a song,” she said, batting her thick lashes. “You like music, right?”

I laughed. “Yes, I like music.”

“So, it shouldn’t be that hard for you to pick me a song,” she said, her hand trailing down from my shoulder to my chest. I prayed she couldn’t feel how hard my heart was beating in that moment. My breath suspended. And without warning she jumped back up, pouting her lips at me. “Be that way.”

I tossed back the rest of the beer. I knew I was buttoned-up. I knew I needed to loosen up and have fun once in a while. I just didn’t know how. Growing up, I was treated like an inconvenient burden, parented by two selfish assholes who believed all children should be seen and not heard.

I’d spent most of my days holed up in my room, nose in a book, trying my hardest to keep quiet like a good little boy. God forbid I spilled my Legos on the wood floor and made too much noise. My mother would sic the nanny on me. And forget playing with my little brothers. Being the oldest, I was constantly told I might hurt them if I played with them. And never mind roughhousing. We were nothing but handsome little ceramic dolls, dressed up for family photos and paraded around at get-togethers and put away in our places each night.

“You want another drink?” I asked the girls as I stood to leave. They nodded, and I returned several minutes later with three Sunset Wheats complete with floating orange slices.

“You’re the best,” Mia said, reaching for one and raising it to me before taking a sip.

“Thanks, Jamison,” Sophie said, her dark eyes drawing me in.

“Where’s the stupid song book?” I asked. Sophie handed me a small, black booklet. I thumbed through it, sticky pages and all, as my eyes scanned the pages, finally deciding on Cheap Trick’s
“I Want You to Want Me.”

SOPHIE

TEN. NINE. EIGHT. SEVEN…

I glanced over at Jamison, sitting back in his chair with his sweater draped over the back. A few beers and he’d finally unbuttoned himself a little. I bit my lip. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the fact that I couldn’t get a read on him. Maybe it was the fact that it very well could be my last New Year’s, but I couldn’t help myself.

SIX. FIVE. FOUR…

I scooted out from the table, lunging at him like tiger in the wild.

THREE. TWO...

Jamison’s glassy blue eyes fell to mine as I lowered myself into his lap and slipped my arms behind his head, grabbing a handful of his sandy brown hair.

ONE… HAPPY NEW YEAR!

As the bar crowd erupted into chaos around us and streamers soared and confetti sprinkled, I lowered my mouth onto his. His full lips parted and his hands slid around my waist, gripping me and holding on for dear life. I closed my eyes, breathing in his expensive cologne and tasting the amber beer on his tongue as my fingers slipped through his soft hair.

I came up for air, my lips red and slightly swollen as they curved into an apprehensive smile. I half expected for him to gently nudge me off his lap.

I didn’t know him that well, but I knew for damn sure he wasn’t big into PDA. He was reserved and quiet, thoughtful and intentional. He didn’t do drunken-lap-make-out-sessions. He didn’t do karaoke. He didn’t even do Christmas. But he did it all. For me.

“You wanna get out of here?” I asked, my eyes searching his. In the darkness of the bar, his gaze served as the only beacon of light I needed. I slid off his lap and his hand slipped into mine somehow as he stood up. I briefly scanned the room for Mia, but she was nowhere to be found.

We slipped our coats on, not bothering to button them up and we pushed past the crowded bar and out to the street. Hands still locked, I skipped along, dragging and pulling him behind me. I wanted to be alone with him. I wanted to peel off those layers and get down to the basics with him. I wanted to feel his hands all over me. I wanted the weight of his stare as he pressed himself into me. It’d been years since I’d been with a man.

I pulled him into the foyer of my apartment, fumbling for my keys as we hurried up the stairs. Breathless, I stumbled into my messy apartment, tossing my purse to the floor and kicking off my shoes as I staggered backwards. Hair in my eyes and a devilish grin on my face, I slipped my jacket off, waiting for him to make the next move.

He stood frozen, paralyzed by the door, looking at me as if he’d never wanted anything more in his life. But something kept him back. I sashayed toward him, my fingers feverishly working the buttons of my blouse as I stood on my toes to kiss him. With all the height he had on me, I could hardly reach him.

Jamison’s hands soon found the back of my head. His fingers tangled up in my hair as he kissed me hard.

I slipped my blouse off and reached for his pants, tugging at the buttons and unzipping them as we landed on the unmade mess that covered my bed. The pitch black of my place swallowed us whole, the windows naked and uncovered, and the unobtrusive twinkle of tiny stars against a moonless sky provided the perfect amount of lighting.

I pressed my head back against the covers as Jamison tugged his sweater off and unbuttoned his shirt. The quick tugs as he pulled my leggings off sent jolts of anticipation through me from head to toe.