Blood of Cupids (3 page)

I sat at a table by the open window; the breeze of the
ending day was relaxing. Was I supposed to order from the bar or would someone
come around to ask me what I wanted? Did I look absolutely pathetic showing up
to a bar by myself?

My head swung toward the window as I heard tires screech.
There was a boy, a man, who had stepped in front of traffic. Stupid drunk
undergrad kids. I tried to look away, but my eyes were locked on him; he looked
distracted. I was distracted. I was so distracted that I didn’t realize my gaze
had followed him into the same bar I had walked into. And I was blankly staring
at him. Now I definitely looked pathetic. I think he was looking for someone.
Why was I feeling drawn to help him? Why not? What bad could come from seeing
if he needed help? I slid off my chair and slowly took my place behind him.

“Looking for someone?”

He turned to me, and my knees locked. My breath escaped my
body as I stared into his gorgeous green eyes. He was older than I
thought—definitely not an undergrad.  He was maybe just a little older
than me. I noticed a small scar above his left eye, and what was either a
bruise or some grease highlighting his jawline. His hair was dark and thick,
begging for fingers to run through it. His shoulders were broad and his
presence was encompassing. I fought my desire to fall into his arms, but his
scent was intoxicating. I didn’t know how long I could battle my desire.

It occurred to me that we both were staring at each other in
complete silence. Was I that terrible at talking to men? Was it that
insufferable? My eyes widened as I thought of the alternative. Or did he know
who I was? Could I not escape my family’s reputation? No. It would be
impossible for him to know who I was. I was four hours from home, and I hadn’t
confessed my upbringing to anyone in this city. Say something, Grace!

“Are you lost?” I asked.

And what help would I be? I didn’t know this area at all. I
had been here for six weeks and this was the first time I left my apartment
with a destination other than class. Please don’t be lost, beautiful man.

“I was lost until I saw you.” He said.

Oh my fucking God, did he just use a line on me? That was
probably the funniest thing that had ever happened. What was I supposed to say
to that? I couldn’t hold it any longer, and my laughter escaped from my chest.

“I’m sorry, what?” I manage.

He paused. I would put money on the fact that he hated
himself in that moment. His pensive face broke into a small smile.

“Hello. I’m Ryan, and I’m really fucking embarrassed.”

His voice was deep. It shook me. “I’m Grace, and don’t be. I
don’t think I’ve ever heard something so cheesy in real life,” I teased, “but
you made my night.”

Ryan’s grin widened, and our eyes stayed locked on one another.
He didn’t reply, just stared at me. Was I doing something wrong? Should I be
talking?

“So, were you looking for someone?”

“I… no. I wasn’t.” He stared at me for a second before
continuing. “Can I buy you a drink, Grace?”

Was he talking to me? Was this actually happening? Of course
he could buy me a drink. Who could say ‘no’ to that face, those eyes? Okay,
Grace, say it out loud. He’s not a mind reader. “Yes.”

“What can I get you?”

Why was he still asking me questions? Why was this so
difficult? “A beer—an IPA.”

“Two IPAs coming up.”

He turned toward the bar, and I made my way back to the
window seat, shaking my head at my lack of class. I had tasted beer before, but
never enough to know what I liked, and the guys always drank the cheap watery
stuff, which I was utterly repulsed by. My Aunt Kathryn always said the first
drink you order with a guy should be an IPA. It tells him that you’re easy
going enough to drink a beer, but strong enough to handle any “hops” he might
throw your way. Lost guy seemed impressed. Good advice, Aunt Kathryn.

Ryan returned with two pint glasses and a pitcher of an
amber colored intoxicant. He poured a glass for me, allowing the foam to spill
over the top.

“A pitcher?” I asked, eyes wide.

“Too intense?”

“No. Not at all”

He smiled and sat down next to me. My stomach tingled as I
inhaled his rich musk. Okay Grace, hold it together. His eyes bore into me
slightly longer than made me comfortable; yet, I found myself yearning to be
uncomfortable with him. That was a strange realization. We each took a sip: a
little powerful, definitely bitter, but not too bad. I could get on board with
this whole beer thing.

“Where are you from, Grace?”

“Central Pennsylvania. It’s a really small town.”

“I know some really small towns.”

“Alexandria? It’s fairly close to Altoona.”

His face changed slightly. That was odd.

“Do you know someone from Alexandria?” I continue.

“No, but I’ve heard of it.”

“I’m shocked. No one has ever heard of Alexandria.” Then
again, I don’t normally talk to people who don’t know who I am, who my family
is, so I guess I don’t know how many outsiders have heard of Alexandria. “What
about you, Ryan?”

“I’m from here. Born and raised and never left.”

“Ever leaving?”

He lightened and slowly nodded his head. “Maybe.”

Ryan began to pour more beer into my glass. I didn’t even
realize I had finished my first.

“Are you trying to get me drunk, sir?” I coyly teased. It
was fun. I never flirted.

“Maybe.” The corners of his lips slowly upturned, and I had
to catch my breath. This was happening. This was normal. My secret cravings to
have a normal life were not just a schoolgirl fantasy. This was the real thing.
This was what everyone else got to experience, and now it was my turn.

My phone began to ring. Really Dad?

“I’m sorry, I have to take this.”

“No worries.”

I stood up, but my knees wobbled under my weight. Before I
realized what was happening, Ryan had caught me in his powerful arms. He was
touching me. My body tensed and my heart rate quickened.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, just a little dizzy.”

“Can’t handle one beer?”

“I guess not.” I chuckled. If only he knew that was the
first full beer I had ever drank. Wow, I really was pathetic.

My phone continued to ring. I found my balance, stepped
outside the bar, and put the phone to my ear.

“Hi Dad.”

“Hi Gracie.”

“You’re calling again?”

“Am I not allowed to call my only daughter?”

I looked up and saw Ryan smiling at me through the window.
How much I wanted to forget this other part of my life and find out how this
new part might turn out.

“Twice in one day though?”

“A hundred times if I’d like.”

“One day you’re going to be old and forget how to use a
phone, and that day I will have peace.”

“That stings.”

We both laughed. This hardened man still had some soft
spots.

“I’m coming to visit next weekend. I just wanted to give you
a head’s up.”

“What? Dad. Why?”

“I want to see you.”

“I’m not stupid. Why are you coming here?”

If he was coming to Philadelphia, something was wrong. We
all had our territories, and
The Walking Shadows
were not welcomed here.

“Relax kid, we’re coming to visit you. We won’t be making
any trips to Southwest Philly.”

“Promise?”

“You know I don’t make promises.”

He was lying to me. He was coming to Philadelphia on
business. What did he have planned? Why couldn’t I get away?

“Okay Dad, I’ll see you next week.”

“Love you baby.”

“You too.”

I hung up the phone. Really? Now? I was having such a
wonderful night. I met a normal boy in a normal bar. This was just making me
mad.

I walked back into the bar, realizing my buzz had completely
disappeared. Thanks, Dad.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, you know.” No, I wasn’t okay. I was teeming with
anger. My jaw even jutted forward involuntarily: a clear sign I was really
angry.

“I don’t know.”

“Right, sorry, it was just my dad. Sometimes he makes me
crazy.”

“I do understand that.”

He held up his beer asking for a reciprocated “clink”, and I
responded accordingly. The act and the sound lightened my mood. I brought the
glass to my lips, and let the liquid race over my tongue. The bite felt good.
Every gulp gave me a bit more invincibility. I didn’t put the glass down until
the last drop was gone. My head spun, and I noticed Ryan had stood up next to
me. With his decreased distance, I could not hide from his hallucinogenic
scent. As I looked up at him, my neck gave way to the weight of my head. I was
immobile, paralyzed by his presence.

His words were hushed.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” I repeated.

“I can’t wait any longer.”

“For what?”

His strong hands grasped the back of my head and brought me
inches from his face. Wow. Nice move. I wanted him to kiss me. I had never
wanted to be kissed more in my life. What was he waiting for? I parted my lips,
asking for his, and I felt his warm breath quiver from his clenched mouth. His
hands tightened, pulling slightly at my hair. He looked into my eyes, begging
for an invitation. I nodded in return and our lips were forced together. He was
slow, at first, allowing his mouth to greet mine for the first time. My chest
collapsed, and he answered with his full hand, clutching at the small of my back.
His fingers dug as his tongue searched for mine. The last time I had been
kissed, a club member punched the guy square across the face. This was
different. Not only did I not have to fear for Ryan’s life, but I was so
enraptured by the electricity I was unable to fear anything.

Ryan pulled away, his hands still gripping my head and back.
My mouth stayed open, my muscles unwilling to do otherwise.

“Was that okay?”

What kind of a question was that? Of course it was okay. It
was more than okay. It was… there were no words.

“Yes.”

His hand slid around, clutching at my waist. He looked down,
taking in the curves of my body. His fingers skimmed the side of my breast and
hovered over my upper chest. His hand tensed and he bit his lip. I saw his
fingers curl, and find their way into a fist. He sighed and looked up at me, so
desperately wanting.

“Should we get another pitcher?” He asked.

“Sure.”

Ryan exhaled deeply, shook out his fist, smiled, and made
his way back to the bar. Why were we getting another pitcher? I wanted to keep
kissing him. There was no doubt that he wanted to keep kissing me. It was
thrilling.

He sat back down next to me and poured another round. The
split second of silence was too much to bear.

“What do you do, Ryan?”

“We’re just jumping right in?”

“I believe we already jumped in.”

He laughed at my wit. I was witty. Who knew?

“I believe you’re right.” He answered with another kiss. Was
this how all normal relationships started?

“So do I get an answer?” I press.

He paused, seeming as though he was calculating his
response. “I’m an amateur boxer.”

That was not at all what I expected to hear. I guess it
would explain the scar and the bruise. “Wow,” I let go of my breath, “so you
beat people up for money?”

“Okay judgmental...”

“No, I’m sorry.” Sometimes I just couldn’t control my
thoughts.

“I’m kidding, Grace. Boxing is not about beating people up.
It’s all about strategy. You learn how to read people. It requires quite a bit
of training and discipline.”

Have you ever heard a man say ‘discipline’? It’s
surprisingly sexy. His fingers grazed my knee, and I jumped. That was also
sexy.

“Did I startle you?”

“A little.”

“Give me your hand.”

What? It was such a silly request. But of course, I didn’t
argue and placed my hand in his. He flipped it over, exposing my palm. With his
free hand he traced the lines etched into my skin, refusing to break eye
contact. It was unbearable. It was not at all a silly request. What was he
trying to do to me?

“What about you, Grace?”

“What about me?” My brain had stopped working. I couldn’t
grasp thoughts. I couldn’t grasp anything. This man was powerful.

“What do you do?”

“I’m a student at UPenn.” I had just a few more words to get
out. Then I could go back to this ecstasy. “Education major.”

“What kind of education?”

I wanted him to stop asking questions and let me enjoy his
touch. “Elementary.”

“Why do you want to be a teacher?”

“My mother was a teacher.”

“Was?”

And with that simple word, the spell he had over me was
broken.

Yes, ‘she
was
’, you jerk. What right did he have? Who
did he think he was?

Hold on a second, Grace; there was no need to get defensive.
The poor guy did nothing wrong. He simply asked a question. It was unfair to
end our moment because he crossed I line I had yet to draw.