Jaded (The Butterfly Memoirs) (16 page)

I pulled out a stool at the counter and did what I was told. Neither of us spoke as we adjusted to this new…situation. I watched him move around his kitchen, fascinated and turned on at the same time. Now, here we were, nearly naked after a night of great sex and all I could think of was how fun it would be to distract him from cooking and have him take me on the kitchen island, hell, even on the dining room table.

I cleared my throat and forced my imagination back in check, and watched him crack eggs.

“So, why were you downstairs?” I asked. “And don’t try the ‘couldn’t sleep’ line again because I don’t buy it.”

Zack kept his back to me, but paused for a second before breaking another egg. “I wanted to give you space.”

My eyebrows creased. “Space? Why? We’d just finished having mind-blowing sex and eating dinner. I was in your arms when I fell asleep. Why would I need more space?”

“Because,” he cracked another egg, sprinkled on seasonings, “I felt guilty for not waking you.” He added butter to an already heated pan, it sizzled as it melted. “And honestly, if I hadn’t left, we’d be having sex right now instead of this conversation.” Zack straightened and there was a hint of frustration in his voice. His back was still turned to me.

I swallowed hard. The images forcing their way into my mind were erotic as hell. I squirmed in my seat. “Well…I appreciate your willingness to honor our agreement. Since you seem to be uncomfortable right now I’ll get dressed and leave as soon as I eat. I don’t want to—”

The sound of the fork scraping the bottom of the pan while he scrambled the eggs got louder before he faced me. “Damn it, Yasmine, I don’t want you to go, okay? It’s just hard not wanting you all the time. I’ll be fine.” He turned to push the eggs from the pan onto our plates. He washed the pan and started the bacon.

I didn’t know what to say.

Zack turned to face me again while the bacon sizzled behind him. “Do you know how hard it is for me to watch you leave every week? I’m not just talking about sex. Our relationship is more that. I enjoy the time we spend together as friends. It’s just... sometimes I’d like to…I don’t know… hang out without the expectation of sex. It’s hard to have a real conversation when my mother is around.” His eyebrows creased.

Because I agreed, laughter bubbled out of me.

Zack stared in surprise. “What?”

“Yeah, a good conversation can be better than sex.” Zack smirked. I smiled and put my hand up. “Okay, that didn’t come out right. What I mean is there is no replacing sex, because, damn, we’re good at it. But I enjoy our conversations, too.”

A half smile spread across his handsome face. “Maybe next week we can spend time talking before going to bed. I like knowing how your day went.” He cocked his head to the side. “Not saying I don’t appreciate you jumping me, or the stripteases because sometimes you just need it.”

 Our eyes locked and the heat permeating between us had my heart racing. How did he manage to do that to me? I breathed deep when his attention turned back to the bacon.

Zack was right, of course. The problem with having an intelligent conversation when we were alone without having sex was hard. We needed more options.

“Do you have plans for today?”

He pulled the bacon from the pan, drained the grease. “Not really. Saturday is my off day, so I usually chill on the couch. What are you doing?” He slid a few slices of bread into a toaster.

I must be insane.

“What if we spent the day together away from here, with clothes on?”

Zack stopped in mid-motion, and turned to face me, a questioning expression on his face. “Are you talking about a date?”

“No, no, I mean…we could hang out somewhere, friends do that sort of thing.” My gaze went to the large open windows lining the room. The sunrise lit up a beautiful blue sky and showed promise of a cloudless, clear day. “What if we went down to the beach and had a picnic?”

He leaned against the counter, crossed his arms across his chest. “Sounds promising.”

“I’ll go home and take a shower. I’ve got a few calls to make and emails to check. What if we met at the Santa Monica Pier around…one o’clock? I’ll take care of lunch if you bring a blanket and something to drink.”

A slow smile spread across his face, making his handsome features even more attractive. My heart did some stupid loopy trick. We definitely needed to get away from here.

“I like that.” He retrieved the toast, added butter and jelly, and then handed me a plate. Orange juice followed. He stood at the island counter top across from me as we ate, the same happy expression on his face, but when our eyes met, a devilish expression lit his eyes.

I had the feeling suggesting we meet later for the ‘non date’ would not be a good idea. But it was too late to turn back now. This was never put into the rules so we weren’t breaking them…just, doing something different. As friends.

Maybe if I kept telling myself that I would believe it.

Chapter 19

Whoever said taking a cold shower could kill your sex drive lied.

No matter how many showers I took, it didn’t stop my mind from conjuring up the image of Yasmine in my bed.  Matters only got worse when I looked at the tangled sheets, and smelled the lingering fragrance of her perfume.  My fingers tingled from the memory of her soft skin as I ran my fingers along her thighs, the taste of her tongue on mine when we kissed, and the erotic sounds she made as I explored her body.

A time check showed it was just 11:45…a little over an hour from now and we would meet again. I couldn’t believe she took my suggestion we explore more opportunities to get to know each other and asked me out. Okay, so it wasn’t an actual date, but we would still be meeting, sharing a meal, and getting to know each other on a deeper, more personal level.

Not that there could be anything more personal than what we’d been doing over the past two months.

I dressed in a pair of black cargo pants, black t-shirt, and a green, yellow, and black button up casual shirt I left open. A pair of black Nikes sat by the bed. In the bathroom, I brushed my teeth and trimmed my goatee. Not bad.

I found an old blanket in the closet large enough to be used for a picnic. The only reason I had the thing was because Melissa had left it behind.

Thinking about her was nowhere near as painful as it used to be. The more time spent with Yasmine, the more my unhappy thoughts of my previous relationship became a distant memory.

That called for a celebration. I decided to pick up a bottle of wine. This afternoon felt as though it could be a step towards something more between us. What exactly, I didn’t know, but I wanted to find out.

####

“This spot is perfect, Zack.” Yasmine spread out the blanket while I carried the picnic basket she’d brought.

We were both shoeless, having kicked them off the moment we reached the sand.

“Glad you like it.” Mission accomplished, we sat opposite of one another and faced the ocean.

The activity of the boardwalk was a backdrop to the breathtaking ocean view. We decided not to sit too close to people who were sunbathing, and walked a distance to find a patch of sand where no one else sat.

Yasmine reached into the basket, placed two plates, silverware, and napkins between us. “I picked Italian, since we both seem to love it so much.”

“It smells good.”

A smile played on her lips as she brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She pulled out a large container. Steam floated in the air, carrying the rich aroma of our meal as she removed the lid. My stomach growled while I studied the contents as she divided the food between two plates.

Chicken breasts, mushrooms, tomatoes, onion, and garlic rested on a bed of pasta; my mouth watered involuntarily.

“What is it?”

“Chicken Vino Blanco,” she laughed when I made a face. “Basically, chicken with white wine sauce served over linguine.” She reached into the basket again and pulled out a package wrapped in aluminum foil; breadsticks. “I hope you like it.”

“It looks good. Plus, it seems I chose the right beverage.” I reached for my backpack for the bottle of chilled white wine and two wine glasses I brought from home.

Her smile was bright. “Yes, you did.”

We laughed when I popped the cork and it flew into the air. She searched for it at the end of the blanket while I poured.

Once the cork was back in place and the bottle settled in the basket, I handed her a glass. “How about a toast?”

“We toast a lot, don’t we?”

I chuckled. “Yeah, we do.”

“So what do we toast to this time?”

I pursed my lips for a moment, examined the delicious spread, the peaceful surroundings, and the beautiful woman sitting across from me. “To defining a new type of relationship.”

Her thin eyebrows creased. “A new type of relationship?”

“Yes, it suits us. Think about it. What you and I have is not something easily found. I’m willing to bet our friendship is a lot better than fifty percent of married couples.”

Yasmine cocked her head to the side to watch a couple as they walked the surf in the distance. They were together, but not holding hands. “I see your point. Cheers.”

We touched our glasses, and sipped. My eyes were on her as we savored the sweet wine.

“I love Moscato.” She licked her lips.

I forced myself to look away. Damn. Maybe we should have done something other than this… hiking? Rock climbing? No, neither would work. Both activities would have her in front of me and my eyes staring at her perfectly shaped derriere. The more I thought about it, I realized there wouldn’t be an activity we could do together that could keep my mind completely off of sex. Every time she licked her lips, smiled, looked at me…hell, every time she breathed, it turned me on.

I sampled my meal as a distraction. “So, what do you want to talk about?” The chicken was good.

Yasmine swirled a sample of noodles mixed with tomatoes on her fork. “Hmm…family. That’s a topic we’ve never really focused on.”

“Okay, you first.”

She chewed thoughtfully. “You didn’t exactly like this question the first time I asked, so I’ll try another avenue.”

My eyes shot over to her. “What do you want to know?”

She rested her fork on her lip. “You said it’s hard to remember your father because you were young when he died.”

“Let me elaborate. I remember what he looked like. There are pictures of him everywhere. But his voice…I can’t remember what he sounded like when he spoke. Sometimes I can remember the sound of his laugh. He smiled a lot and always seemed to be happy.”

“Can you remember any happy moments?”

I set my fork down, picked up my wine, drank, and stared at the ocean waves. “He used to work two Saturdays a month. The two he had off, he made sure he spent time with me and my mother. One Saturday was for me. We’d go to McDonald’s for lunch. Afterwards, we’d go to the comic book store and spend hours searching for a series we wanted to read. We’d go home and each night before bed, we’d take turns reading the pages. We’d make up voices of the characters and sometimes act it out.” The memory made me smile. “We’d read that comic several times during the month before it was time to find a new one. Those were good times.”

“That’s sweet.”

The next swallow I took was longer. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Have you worked things out with your family yet?”

Yasmine’s cat-shaped eyes cut over at me. “No, I haven’t.”

I pursed my lips for a moment. “Yasmine, don’t take this the wrong way, but you need to let it go.”

“Excuse me?” she snapped. Her eyes went to slits as she huffed. “Zack, you don’t understand. They took my dream and slapped it down as if it were nothing but a joke. They never asked questions and barely listened to what I wanted. My mother called it, ‘a dream that would screw up this family’s hard work.’” She punctuated the statement with air quotation marks.

I let her vent. In a matter of seconds, her cool demeanor changed as her breath came out in a short, sharp burst; her lips quivered. She had every right to be upset, but, like every story, there were two sides.

“The only person who attempted to show interest was my father. He suggested waiting for six months before asking for money.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Why did he suggest that?”

She breathed deep and rolled her eyes. “Because they were in the process of opening the new hotel.”

“So they didn’t actually say no.”

Her eyes cut to me. “No.”

I waited a beat. “Would it have been wrong to wait a few more months?”

I walked a tight line playing devil’s advocate. It wasn’t my intention to hurt her, only to show time had passed, and maybe she should rethink the matter. It’s always hard to understand the motivation of others when you’re stuck on what you want.

Yasmine sipped her wine and then shot me a sideways glance. “I see what you’re trying to do, Zack, but it’s not going to change the way I feel. I understand why they wanted me to wait. But, I’ve spent the majority of my life doing what they wanted. I’ve also spent a majority of my life worrying what people around me said. In the last year, I’ve been hurt, lied to, and used.” She turned to face me completely, passion and conviction in her eyes and voice. “I refuse to live like that anymore. It’s selfish, I know, but there’s a point where you have to do for you. My time is now. If I don’t take it…” Her gaze left mine as her eyes began to glisten. “I’m going to disappear, Zack. There will be no more me.”

 “I don’t understand.”

She wiped her eyes. “It’s just…I have a goal, something that represents me, who I am. My wants, my dreams, my needs. I can’t find them while continuing to put them on the back burner for someone else. Do you understand?”

I studied her eyes. The gray hardened as her words grew passionate. I reached out to wipe a tear as it slid slowly down her cheek.

“Yes, I understand. You have a valid point. Unfortunately, so do your parents.”

Yasmine scoffed and gulped her wine. “So you’re saying I’m wrong.”

“No, I don’t have anything to say about your parents because it’s not my place. How they decide to run their business is up to them. What I’m saying is this: don’t allow your emotions to get in the way of what you have.”