Page 4

Lark

I swear I could forget all my problems with enough time spent with her.

Not that that would solve any problems or fix the mess my life has become.

I sit at the bar, wondering if I’ll see her again. Last night had been amazing, and I’d asked her to stay. But she refused, saying she needed to get back so Shana wouldn’t worry about her. I accepted her reason, but felt like there was more to it – more she wasn’t telling me.

As I sip my whiskey, I scan the room, looking for her smile, listening for her laughter, searching for the sense of peace and satisfaction she brings me.

The beauty of paradise means nothing to me now, and the sunshine, volleyball, swimming… it all pales in comparison to spending time with her. I’d rather drink and drown my woes, but I’d hate to miss her thanks to whiskey.

“Another whiskey?” The bartender doesn't wait for an answer. He knows.

“Thanks,” I say with a nod, as he refills my glass. The liquid amber catches the sunlight, shining like gold. I take a sip, letting it burn down my throat, trying to scorch away her taste. But it's no use. I can still smell her, taste her, feel her…. See her. I’m in bad shape – I even dreamed about her. It’s not like me to get hung up over some woman.

But there she is, behind my eyelids, laughing, wrapped up in sheets that smell like sex and sin.

It almost feels like the cheery bright world, sounds of laughter and happiness, the way couples seem to be touching and kissing all around me is just the whole world mocking me. I set the glass down a little too hard and whiskey sloshes over the rim. I need to get ahold of myself.

“Are you expecting someone?” The bartender raises his eyebrows as if he has some idea of the turmoil rolling round and around my mind.

“Maybe.” I clear my throat and shift in my seat. “Or maybe not.” I really don’t know. Some part of me hopes she’ll show up and come sit beside me, but some part of me knows that’s not a good idea. She’s wormed her way under my skin and that’s dangerous.

He nods, as if he understands. Maybe he does. I have no doubts that this bar has heard more secrets than most therapists. I take another drink, letting the memories from last night play out in my mind amidst the sounds of scattered laughter and the occasional burst of noise from the street outside. Her. Just her.

I don't say anything else. What is there to say? That I can't shake her from my head? That I'm here, hoping for another round of whatever it is we started?

For now, I wait. The glass sweats in my hand, chilled and slippery. And I watch the door, waiting for striking blue eyes with a stormy grey ring.

My fingers tap an impatient rhythm on the counter as my gaze sweeps over the crowd. People are coming and going, ebbing and flowing like the tide, but she’s still not here. The need to see her again gnaws at me, a relentless itch I can’t quite scratch.

In times like this, I’d usually call my mother and get her thoughts. The woman has been the one constant in my life, the one person I can always trust, my confidante no matter what my circumstances are. Of course, she doesn’t know the whole truth, but what parent knows all their child’s secrets?

But I’m not ready to give up yet, and I have a feeling my mom can’t bring me comfort right now. I’m not sure what I need – other than Lara, of course – but I sure as hell want to figure it out.

My hand tightens around the glass and I take another sip.

“Where are you, Lara?” I whisper, feeling doubt that she’ll show and hope that she will.

I lean back, trying to seem casual. A glance to my phone tells me I have no messages. It's just as well; there’s no one I want to talk to right now. This restlessness for Lara consumes every rational thought and leaves me wondering if I’m losing my mind.

Then I see her, stepping into the bar. My heart flip flops as I drink in the sight of her. She’s sunlight personified in a yellow sundress that shows off the sexy curve of her thighs. Thighs I want to kiss up and down until she’s trembling and begging me to stop.

Our eyes lock. Hers widen, and she blushes a pale pink. But it's the hunger, that familiar desire, that sends a jolt straight through my gut.

“Hey,” I say, my voice rough as she approaches.

“Hey,” she echoes, her voice stirring memories best left unvoiced – and forgotten - in public.

“I didn't think I'd see you again,” I say, hoping I’m not giving away how that thought affects me.

She lifts her shoulders, a slight curve of her lips telling me she’s glad I’ve been thinking about her… and warning me she might have also been thinking of me.

I gesture for her to sit beside me and hope she takes the invitation.

“Sure.” She slides onto the seat beside me, close enough to touch, yet seemingly miles away.

“Last night was...” My words trail off, too tame to describe what she does to me, especially in a crowded place like this.

“It was… amazing.” Her words fill void, but even that doesn’t seem like enough to describe what has transpired between us two times now.

“That’s an understatement.” I lean in, close enough to catch her scent—vanilla and something wild. “You drive me wild,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.

Her smile doesn't falter, but her eyes darken with that same untamed desire that I've been unable to shake off since she left my bed last night.

“Is that so?” She teases, and I sense she believes me, but thinks it’s something I say to every woman who winds up in my bed.

I don’t like that at all, but don’t know how to broach the topic without making things worse. So I don’t.

“Absolutely,” I say, my hand reaching out and touching her thigh. The contact sends bolts of electricity through me, and I see her tremble, her wide-eyed gaze meeting mine. In that instant, I know she feels it, too; whatever this pull is between us.

There’s just no way I can let her go. I’m going to get her number, follow her social media, whatever she’s willing to let me do to be part of her life.

I know I said we’d never see each other again, but the more time I spend with her, the less of a possibility that seems to be.