The Stillness Of You (7 page)

By the
uncomfortable look on Eli’s face, I was gonna go with the guess
that John and New Street was where guys trolled for
prostitutes.

She
leaned forward and ran her forefinger along the top of my hand and
damn if my stomach muscles didn’t clench. “Don’t worry about
it,
Jack
, I’ll
call you whatever you want me to.”

Eli
cleared his throat and backed away. “Okay, so Amber will be by to
take your order and ah, if you don’t mind, I have a couple things
I,” he paused, his gaze dropping to Georgia’s finger as it slowly
moved back and forth across me. I couldn’t blame the guy, my eyes
were pretty much fixated on the same thing.

“
Yeah,
I’ll sign whatever you want. Give us five minutes okay?”

Eli
disappeared and Georgia’s smile widened. “So that was awkward,” she
said slowly. “For Eli.”

“You’re a
trouble maker.”

“You have no
idea,” she answered leaning back in her chair and withdrawing her
finger from my hand.

“
This
isn’t good.” I shook my head and tried to keep the grin off my
face. “Words going to get out that Ben Lancaster has to pay for
pussy. I can’t have that.”

“Who says you
were paying for pussy?” Her eyes widened and so did her smile. “I
could let it slip to Eli that I’m a tranny.”

“A what?”

She licked her
lips again and I had to concentrate hard to understand what the
hell she was saying. “A transvestite.”

“You
wouldn’t”

“
Wouldn’t
I?” She said slowly. “What are you going to do to stop me,
Jack.”

“I can think of
a lot of things.”

“Really.”

I leaned
forward, liking the heat between us and the way her skin flushed to
peaches and cream. “But first I’m going to make you pay. That
little stunt will probably cost me millions in endorsements.”

Her pupils were
dilated and that damn tongue peeked out from between her lips.
“Hmm, I’d say trolling for pussy could hurt you a little bit, but
if word got out you were trolling for dick,” she shrugged, her
smile sly and it took everything inside me to not jump across the
table and kiss her.

“Um, are you
guys ready to order?”

We both
glanced up at Amber and I slowly slid back into my seat. Once again
my cock was hard and the reason for it grinned at me as if she
knew.

She winked and
then licked her lips.

I’m betting she
knew.

After we
ordered, and I’d taken a moment to calm the parts of me that needed
calming, I exhaled and said the thing I should have said at the top
of the Rocky steps.

“
Hey,” I
started and then stopped when her clear eyes fastened on me. Would
this fucking teenage schoolboy thing ever go away?

“Hey,” she
answered softly, almost hesitantly, as if she knew I wasn’t fooling
around anymore.

“I just wanted
to say I’m sorry about,” I cleared my throat and lied through my
teeth. “I’m sorry about the kiss earlier and, you know, I hope I
didn’t cross any boundaries.”

Fucking
lies. All of it. It would be a cold day in hell before I was sorry
for kissing Georgia King.

Amber was back
with our coffee and after she poured it and left, there were a few
moments of silence.

“
Don’t be
sorry,” Georgia said softly. “Cuz I’m not.”

Georgia

I spent
every single minute of the Fourth of July with Ben.
After a totally greasy and
yummy breakfast, we watched a parade that passed a few blocks away,
and then strolled through Art in the Park, one that featured a ton
of cool stuff, as well as music and dance.

The sun didn’t
let up, the smell of summer was everywhere, and for the first time
in forever I felt…light.

We didn’t
kiss again—which was a sin because it’s all I thought about—but the
flirting was pretty intense. I caught more than a few people
staring at us, though I suppose they might have recognized
Ben.

The
thought that it was me they recognized crossed my mind, but I
quickly tossed it aside. I knew there was stuff online, pictures
and video from the night my brain had finally imploded and cracked
so wide open there was nothing for me to do but fall in. But it was
a pretty far stretch to think that the old couple who turned as we
strolled by, or the woman sipping her coffee who paused, or the man
with the fat golden retriever recognized me as that crazy
girl.

But the
flirting.

God, the
flirting was addictive. There was a lot of eye contact. There was
the soft touch of his hand at my back, the rough pads of his
fingers lingering just above my shorts. There was Ben bending close
to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. There were a lot of
suggestive comments and jokes.

And god
he smelled good. Like a guy should, not prettied up with expensive
cologne.

Hours
later I was still buzzing—I was buzzing everywhere—and I mean
everywhere. And then I tried to remember the last time I’d had an
orgasm and I decided it was pretty pathetic that I couldn’t
remember. I decided that Ben would have been the perfect stress
reliever.

It was
enough to drive a girl crazy because he was right here. In the
loft.

He was in the
office.

He was in
the office right down the hall from me.

And the
thing of it was, the thought of him, the smell of him, the
idea
of being with him
was enough to get me off and sometime in the night, there beneath
my covers, I used my fingers and the palms of my hands to get the
job done.

I came
all by myself, with my hands on my skin and Ben in my head. And for
the moment it was enough.

In the
morning Ben asked me to go with him to meet up with his real estate
agent and even though I wanted to, I found myself saying, no. I
told him that I was meeting someone and that I couldn’t get out of
it.

“Who?” he had
asked.

“Just no one,”
I replied.

He arched
an eyebrow. “A boyfriend?”

“
What?
No. Just a friend. Seamus.” Seamus was my therapist, but he didn’t
have to know that. Just like he didn’t have to know I had no plans
to meet anyone.

His eyes
narrowed slightly, though there was that half smile on his face,
the one that made my insides liquefy. “Seamus, what kind of a name
is that? That sounds like something you’d name a cat.”

“That’s what I
told him the first time we met.”

He’d
grabbed the keys to his rental. “Alright, Georgia, you have a good
afternoon with your friend,
Seamus,
and I’ll see you later?”

I nodded
and watched him leave, wondering why I just hadn’t gone with him. I
wanted to. And for several long moments after he left I stood in
the middle of the loft, hating the silence, which was weird,
because for most of the last year it was all I craved. Silence.
That sweet abyss of nothingness.

But I
suppose it was for the best because I had so many other things to
do. You know, like paint my toenails, or figure out how I was going
to fill the empty canvas that stared at me from across the
room.

I was
happy to be alone, dammit. Happy to paint or dance or run around
naked if I wanted to.

I thought
of Ben’s kiss and of how awesome his warm hands felt on me and I
had to wonder again, why was I here and he was there?

Oh, right
because Matt wouldn’t approve.

Liar. This has nothing to do with
Matt
.

Ugh, I hated
when that little voice inside my brain was right. I knew it was
bullshit. I was here and he was there because Ben Lancaster scared
the crap out of me.

As it
turned out I was alone the entire day and even though my creative
juices weren’t what they usually were, I was able to work on a
sketch or two. And this was good. Making art calmed my mind—it
helped me focus—and when I was focused I was happier than when I
was not. And an unhappy Georgia wasn’t good. An unhappy Georgia
could turn on a dime.

I’d
chatted with Matt, assured him that I was taking my meds but I knew
that wasn’t the only thing he was concerned about. I worked it. I
made him ask the question he most wanted to ask. Our conversation
went like this:

“G, you better
be taking your meds.”

“
I am.
I’m taking number one and number two.” Okay, I lied. I was taking
my lithium, but not the klonopin (I hated the way it made me feel
and the dry mouth was gross) but he didn’t need to know that. He
didn’t need to be worried because I was fine.

I am fine
.

“I’m going to
count them when I get back.”

“
Knock
yourself out.” Sheesh, my brother wasn’t a dummy so didn’t he know
I could flush number two if I wanted to? Didn’t he know I
did
flush number two
when I went in for my morning pee?

“So what have
you been doing?”

“Nothing
really.”

A pause.

“Did Ben find a
place that he liked or is he still looking?”

“He found
something nice in Haddonfield.”

“
Oh,
cool. Where is he now?”

“Right now?” I
said with a grin, moving in for the kill.

“Yes.” He
sounded irritated. “Right now.”

“Right now he’s
lying beneath me because we’re having hot sex in your bed.”

“G,” he
warned.

“
Totally
naked,” I continued with a grin. “Because we’re having hot sex
in
your
bed.”

“
Don’t
jerk me around.” Okay, his irritation was sounding more like
anger.

“
Whoa,
take a chill pill. What’s the matter? Heather not giving you
any?”

“Heather and I
broke up.”

Wait. What?

“Oh,” I said
softly, while I vigorously fist pumped and did a little dance. “I’m
sorry.”

“
I’m sure
you are,” he answered, his tone more than a little sarcastic.
“Look, I’ll be home tomorrow sometime. I’m stopping in to see a
friend or I’d be back tonight. So…just be good, okay?”

I stopped
dancing. Just be good? What was I, five years old?

I frowned and
saluted him. “Yes Sir, I’ll do my best, Sir.”

And then I hung
up.

For
several moments I stared into the emptiness of the loft, wondering
why his words pissed me off so much and hating the hot prick of
tears at the corners of my eyes. I was twenty-one years old,
okay,
nearly
twenty-one years old—my birthday was in August—and my older
brother still felt the need to tell me to behave. To be
good.

To not fuck his
million dollar hockey player.

I stalked
into the bathroom and glanced in the mirror, chest heaving, tight
and angry. But what was I angry about? The fact that my brother
still didn’t trust me? Or the fact that I wanted to fuck Ben
Lancaster so badly, that just thinking about it made me hot. It
made me hot and bothered and horny.

With a
sound of disgust, I hopped into the shower and stood under the
spray for a good, long while. I stood there for so long, enjoying
the heat as it sluiced over my skin, that my mind began to wander.
It began to wander toward Ben and slowly my palms and fingers slid
over my stomach, seeking the place between my legs.

I leaned
against the tiles and tried to stifle the moan that sat in the back
of my throat, as my fingers and the erotic images of Ben pushed me
on. I stroked myself. I imagined it was Ben’s fingers, and for the
second day in a row I got myself off. Jesus fuck, this had to be
some kind of record because I know I hadn’t masturbated like this
since I was a teenager.

But it
wasn’t enough and even as the remnants of my orgasm shuddered
through me, I thought of him and there was a piece of me that was
still empty. Because as much as my fingers could coax a reaction
from my body, it was the connection that I wanted and I wasn’t
satisfied.

God damn,
I needed to get laid.
I needed Ben.

I was
just out of the shower when the buzzer rang and though I tried to
quell the excitement inside me, I couldn’t . It had to be Ben,
though I wondered why he didn’t just let himself in. Maybe he’d
lost his key?

I ran through
the loft, the towel barely staying put as I answered the phone on
the wall near the front door.

“
Hey,
Joe.” Our doorman was an older, retired guy, with a soft, round
wife and a pack of grandkids he brought around from time to time. I
liked him because Joe had seen me at my worst and there was no
judging when he looked at me.

“Hello,
Georgia.”

“
Let him,
up, Joe. It’s alright.”

He cleared his
throat and there was a pause. “It’s not Mr. Lancaster. It’s …Miss
Kendall.”

I rested
my forehead on the wall and blinked my eyes closed. Shit. Kendall
wasn’t exactly welcome around here and she knew it. Matt would blow
a fuse if he was home and that was something that Joe knew
too.

For a few
moments I said nothing and I wondered what to do. On one hand, I
missed her. I missed her like crazy. I’d known her for years and
for a while we were really tight, like best friends tight. She knew
what I was thinking before I did, and the girl was always up for a
good time. But then shit happened. Trying to kill myself happened,
and Matt blamed Kendall as much as my illness.