Past Imperfect (8 page)

When she stands, her back grazes my chest and startles her. The heel of her right foot immediately slams down on my foot just before she whips around and kicks me in the shin.

“Fuck!” I yell, hopping back a few steps.

“Brad?” She removes her ear buds, sounding surprised and confused.

“The one and only.” The pain in my leg starts to subside.

“Are you okay?” She’s concerned.
Good.

“I’m fine. It’s nice to know you can handle yourself.” I pace back and forth a few times, walking off the rest of the pain in my leg before landing directly in front of her.

“What are you doing here?” she asks.

“I’m here for our morning run, unless you’d rather do another activity to get our hearts racing.” I wink.

“I thought I made myself pretty clear about this.” She points a finger back and forth between us.

“Well, I
know
I made myself crystal clear about this.” I mimic her movement with my finger. “Now, I’m here to get a workout. If you don’t want to go inside to do it, then get moving.”

I remove my sunglasses and Duke Baseball cap, handing them to her while I peel off my gray T-shirt and shove one end of it inside the back pocket of my red basketball shorts. Mabry’s chest visibly moves faster and she licks her lips as she stares at my abs and chest. She’s a huge fan of my torso. Her hands and lips have spent a lot of quality time in these areas.

Bending down close to her face, I speak in a low voice, “I hope I’ll be able to make it through the entire run. Just the thought of your sweet little ass bouncing down the street in those shorts is making me hard.” I give her
the smile
and walk away.

Once reaching the sidewalk, I turn and see her still standing in the same spot. “Mabry! Get your head in the game, baby. We got some sweatin’ to do,” I yell as I walk backward a few steps. Mabry stomps past me and slow jogs to warm up. I come up alongside her and ask, “You want me to stay in front so you can drool over my ripplin’ back muscles?” She picks up her pace and moves past me, not saying another word for the rest of the run.

After our run I go home, take a quick shower, throw on a pair of jeans, and my sapphire blue polo. Mabry loves this shirt because it matches my eyes. Once I’m through dressing, I head to brunch at The Sweetwater Café downtown. Mabry meets with a few girlfriends the first Sunday of each month for their book club brunch. Fortunately for me, Melanie who works in our office, and Mabry have become friends and fellow book clubbers. After talking to Melanie one day at the office, I got all the info I needed about today. That’s the power of
the smile
.

I walk in the door of the café and immediately spot Mabry at a corner table, with her back to me. She’s with three other ladies, one of whom is Melanie. I don’t know the other two. As I walk up, the two ladies I don’t know visibly straighten and give me flirtatious smiles. They look at each other, their eyes enlarge when they realize I’m heading directly to them.

“Hey Sweetness and ladies,” I say, my tone cheery.

Mabry looks up and blinks her long lashes a few times, as if she doesn’t quite believe that it’s me standing there. “Brad, what are you doing here?”

“You are just full of questions today.”

“Hey Brad,” Melanie squeaks out.

“Hey Mel.” She giggles at my greeting.

Two throats clear simultaneously. “Mabry, aren’t you going to introduce your friend?” the blonde asks.

Mabry looks at her friends, then me, then back to her friends before answering. “This is Brad. He works with me and Melanie.”

The blonde extends her hand. “Well, look at you. I’m Sylvie.” We shake hands.

“Nice to meet you, Sylvie.” I give her a quick wink and she giggles.

“And I’m Christine,” the redhead chimes in, extending her hand as well, and we shake.

“Nice to meet you, Red.” She pulls her hand back, raising her shoulders as she giggles.

I get the distinct impression the ladies have been partaking of the brunch drink special, Mimosas. “Brad, please join us,” Sylvie says.

“Oh yeah, Brad, join us,” Mel agrees.

“Please sit down, right here.” Christine slides the chair out that’s between her and Mabry and then pats the seat.

“Brad doesn’t want to join us for our book club meeting,” Mabry protests. “He’ll be bored.”

“No I won’t.”

“No he won’t. Besides it’ll be great to get a male’s perspective,” Sylvie states.

“He hasn’t even read the book,” Mabry counters.

“I’ve read the book.”

“He’s read the book. Sit down, Brad,” Sylvie orders.

“Waiter! Another round of Mimosas, please. Pronto,” Christine announces.

As I take my seat I have four sets of eyes, three smiles, and a scowl aimed in my direction. Our drinks arrive and we place our order. Once the waiter leaves, the discussion turns toward the book.

“So our book this month,
Impossible Perfection
by A. K. Stewart. What did y’all think?” Sylvie begins.

“I loved it although it made me ugly cry from seventy-five percent on,” Mel says.

Turning to me, Christine asks, “Brad, do you know what an ugly cry is?”

“Um… when you cry so hard that your face contorts into an ugly mess? Although, I can’t imagine any of you ladies even coming close to being unattractive.” I flash them
the smile
. Cue the next round of giggles.

“Unbelievable,” Mabry mumbles under her breath.

“Oh, don’t mind her, Brad, She’s been wound up and frustrated all week,” Sylvie informs.

A wicked grin involuntarily appears across my face as I look over at Mabry. “Well, maybe I could help unwind you.” Three deep sighs in unison come from the other end of the table.

“So, the book… thoughts on the book?” Mabry asks, trying to divert attention away from us.

“The book, yeah. I loved it. Nathan was absolutely perfect. He’s right up there with Christian, Caleb, and Kellan as best book boyfriend for me,” Sylvie states.

I continue to stare at Mabry and fight the urge to reach over and grab her hand. I haven’t touched her in a week and I crave the contact. I halfway hear the ladies chatter on, not paying attention to who says what.

“I wanted to slap that damn Abigail in the face, then punch her in the throat and then shake her.”

“I know, right? Why did she keep pushing sweet perfect Nathan away? I swear I screamed several times for her to get her head out of her ass, already. He told her a thousand times he loved her.”

“If there hadn’t been all the push-pull the book would have been the length of a pamphlet.”

“The twist almost had me throwing my Kindle against the wall.”

“Oh and Brantley… he was hot as hell even though he turned out to be a Smurffucker. I think there’s more to him. I hope the author writes a book about Brantley.”

“Brad, what do you think about what Brantley did?” The sound of my name breaks me from my Mabry trance.

“I’m sorry. What?” I look toward the other ladies.

“What did you think about what Brantley did to Abigail?” Christine asks.

“Well, I’m sure he had his reasons. People aren’t all bad or all good. I bet Nathan isn’t as perfect as he appeared. Brantley probably has deep issues.” I turn my focus to Mabry. “Maybe he tried to stay away, but craved her so much that he couldn’t think clearly. He needed that connection with her. He felt lost and lonely, and couldn’t imagine his life being anything but miserable if she wasn’t in it.”

There was complete silence at the table. Mabry and I lock eyes for a few seconds before she abruptly scoots her chair back. “Excuse me. I need to go to the ladies room.”

“Excuse me too, ladies,” I say, following after her.

As I round the corner I see her head into the ladies single restroom. I slip in behind her, closing the door and locking it.

“Brad, this is the ladies room,” Mabry says in a low voice.

“I know.”

“You’re not supposed to be in here.”

She walks to the sink and combs her hair with her fingers. She’s wearing a gray jersey halter sundress, exposing her soft shoulders. Her favorite color, orange, shoots up from the hem onto the flowing skirt that hits just at her knees. Simple silver hoop earrings and sandals complete her easy sexy look. It’s been a week since we had any physical contact. I can’t resist any longer, so I move in close, wrap my arms around her waist, and nuzzle her neck. Her body immediately molds to mine, leaning back against my chest. The electrical volt that passes between us is overwhelming. My pulse picks up and I feel Mabry’s doing the same.

I let my lips glide up and down her neck. “I’ve missed you so much, Sweetness.”

“Brad, please…,” she whispers.

“Please what?” I ask against her neck.

“Stop showing up.”

“I was invited to the book club brunch.”

“You crashed the brunch and charmed the panties off of everyone sitting at the table.”

“Everyone? Does that mean I could move my fingers up your thigh, under your dress, and inside of you without the obstacle of those pesky lace panties you wear?” I inch my fingers up her inner thigh.

“Brad…,” she moans breathlessly.

“You could watch yourself in the mirror as I make you come, Mabry. Watching you come is the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen.” My hand disappears under her dress. “God, I’ve missed the feel of you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” she whispers.

I feel her hips rock slightly against my hand as it continues to travel up her leg. I’m so lost in her body, her scent, and her voice that my emotions just start pouring out of me. “I love you so much, Mabry.”

My words snap her out of the moment. I feel her body stiffen and pull away from me. I remain standing in the same spot and watch her in the mirror as she walks across the room and turns to me. “Brad, I’m sorry. I can’t do this. I told you from day one there can’t be anything serious between us.”

“Why? Why can’t there be anything serious between us? You owe me a fucking explanation.”

“I don’t owe you anything. I’ve been upfront and honest from day one.”

I turn to face her. “Bullshit! You’ve been anything but upfront and honest with me. You want me as much as I want you and I don’t mean for just a quick fuck.”

“Is your ego so big that you can’t accept the fact that somebody doesn’t want you?”

“Yeah, I can accept the fact that somebody doesn’t want me, but I can’t accept the fact that it’s you,” I say before walking away from her.

I spend the rest of my Sunday cleaning my place, doing laundry, and trying to get Brad out of my head. I didn’t see him for the rest of the day. I know I keep telling him to stay away, but deep down I don’t want him to. I’ve missed being held in his arms and lying next to him. I’ve missed his flirting, charm, and that smile he believes gets him anything he wants. Which for the most part it does. I miss the way he makes me feel worth the effort. I’ve felt lonely in the past, but I’ve never had this ache inside like I do when he’s not around. Both times I saw him today I immediately felt lighter and excited. He is so much fun when he flirts. And when he looks at me with those warm beautiful eyes that hold so much honest emotion and tell me how he feels is when I melt. I almost gave in to him when we were in the restroom. It felt incredible to have his arms around me again. I feel safe in them. I just can’t subject him to my life in any real way.

I never knew what brought on my mom’s depression. To me she was fine one minute, and the next she was lying in her own blood. She may as well have slit my dad’s wrists that day too because he died along with her. I could never do that to someone I love, And I do… I do love Brad. What would I do if he got tired or bored with me, and left? I know he says he loves me, but he’s been with a lot of women. Does he even know what being in love is? Would it be too much of a trigger to open myself up and be that vulnerable? It’s hard enough now just pushing him away. If we were together and he left me, would I become just like my mom? No, I had to be strong and keep my distance from him. It was the best thing for both of us.

While repeating these thoughts, my anxiety builds along with the desire to bang my head. It’s seeping into me and difficult to ignore. I’ve succumb to it so many times this week. The stress of seeing Brad every day is overwhelming. Knowing how much I need and want him, coupled with the intense anger that I still hold against my parents, had me caving to the relief the physical pain and the numbness give me. I need a distraction. I have to fight the pull of it. The other night was one of the worst times I’d had in a long while. After my date with Ten and seeing Brad at my door I came in and immediately started banging. I don’t know the length of time in minutes that I banged my head against the edge of the counter. I never know the length of time in minutes. I measure the time frame in how dazed I feel. I thought once about setting a timer, an alarm, to keep it under some sort of control, but I never have. I scared myself that night. I banged so hard and for so long I think I blacked out for a moment. I remember the last strike and then waking up on the floor of the kitchen, with an intense throbbing in my head.