Pause by Kylie Scott

CHAPTER SEVEN

“Stop it.”

“Hmm?” I look up from my bowl of chocolate cake and ice cream. Sex and baking is apparently now our life. Good times.

“You’re thinking a lot and not saying anything,” he says, pointing his spoon at me in an accusatory fashion. He’s sitting cross-legged opposite me on the bed. The only thing he’s wearing is a fetching navy-and-white-striped apron. I at least put on a tee and panties. Talk about decorum. His hair is tied back and his expression is so open and honest. “Also, you’re licking the spoon in a gratuitous manner.”

“Am not. You just have a dirty mind.”

“Anna, tell me what you’re thinking.”

“It’s nothing really.”

“C’mon, humor me,” he says. Then pauses. “Wait. Let me guess. You’re thinking about the ex, right?”

I shrug.

“I knew it. Do you feel guilty?”

“No. A little strange maybe, but not guilty.”

“Strange in what way?” he asks, cocking his head.

“I don’t mean to compare, but I can’t help comparing sometimes,” I admit.

“Go on.”

I wince. “Lief . . .”

“C’mon. It’s okay. Whatever you have to say, I can handle it.” His smile is gentle, cautious. “But I don’t want you bottling shit up and stressing over things. I know you’re an overthinker, but we need to set limits for everyone’s sake. Get it off your chest, Anna. I am your therapist. With sexual benefits.”

“Is that what we are now?” I ask, beyond curious. “Roommates with benefits?”

“You need a label?”

“Yeah. I think I do.”

“Okay.” He sighs. “Truth is, I don’t know. I like you and I assume you like me.”

“You’re not so bad.”

“Thanks,” he says. “I especially like you naked in bed and am more than happy to return the favor for you if you’re in agreement.”

“The fact that we’re sitting scantily clad on my bed would suggest I’m good with that.”

“Right.” He nods. “So I say we add sex-friend to the roommate title and see where that gets us for now. What do you say?”

“Sure.”

“Now tell me what you’re thinking about. It’s good to share. And you know you’re safe with me.”

Guess he has a point. Sharing in any kind of relationship is necessary. It’s quite possibly one of the areas where I let the team down in the last one. Because despite the divorce not being my fault, I can definitely do better in the future. I hope. So I sit up straighter, pulling myself together. “I knew it would be different having sex with someone else, it just kind of surprised me is all.”

“In what way?”

“I don’t know . . . it’s hard to describe exactly. And some of it kind of sucks to own up to,” I admit. “Like, I might have been married to Ryan, but in a lot of ways I’m more open with you.”

“It wasn’t the thing I did with my . . .” He wriggles his pinkie finger. That finger had done things to me. Rude things.

“No. Though that was a little surprising.”

“You’ll tell me if there’s anything you don’t want me to do, right?” he asks.

“Right,” I say. “But I wasn’t talking about physically so much as emotionally. Which is odd considering we’re not exactly in a relationship.”

“Eh. We sort of are.”

“We just agreed to be roommates with benefits.”

He raises a brow. “That’s not a relationship?”

“Not really. Not in the way most people would think of a romantic relationship partnership sort of thing.”

“Good God, this is complicated,” he says. “No wonder I steer clear of this shit normally. Can’t we just enjoy being together? Hanging out?”

“We can do that. We are doing that.”

“Phew. All right then.”

I give him my practiced polite smile. Only he’s too busy contemplating his chocolate cake to notice.

“You think maybe you trust me more than you trusted him?” he asks eventually after swirling the frosting around on his bowl with his spoon for a while. “Or do you think the accident and subsequent bullshit sort of broke you down and opened you up a little?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

“It was a hell of a thing to go through. It wouldn’t be surprising if your view of the world and your place in it had undergone some changes.”

“Is that what happened with your accident and . . . everything else?” I don’t want to bring up the ex who used and abused him and tried to kill Clem. But it is relevant to the topic of conversation.

He thinks it over for a moment. “I was bitter for a long time. Maybe I still am a bit. It made it hard to trust people, you know?”

“Yeah.”

“But I’m getting there,” he says. “How about you?”

“I hope I’m getting there. It hasn’t really been that long. Makes it kind of hard to say.”

“Hmm.”

“Guess I’ll have to think about it.”

“I’m sure you will,” he says with all due seriousness. “In the meantime, how do you feel about me smearing chocolate frosting on your tits and licking it off?”

“Sounds messy.”

“But fun, right?”

And the dude is grinning like it’s Christmas. How could I possibly say no?

Monday is spent having sex, watching movies, and doing laundry. Frosting and body fluids are a sticky combination. We watch more Twilight because Twilight, the eternal battle between Edward’s poetically floppy hair and Jacob’s muscles, must go on. Leif also talks me into watching an awesome Indonesian action-thriller called The Raid. Food-wise, our lessons in the kitchen include making pasta carbonara from scratch since I got the pasta machine in the divorce. This was also an excellent excuse to open a bottle of Pinot Grigio.

A very good day off is had by all. Tuesday and the workweek returns all too soon.

“A sternum tattoo?” I ask with a smile that’s as fake as can be. “Wow.”

“I’m ready for you, Courtney,” says Leif, standing by the back hallway. Because the room out back is necessary for work requiring some privacy due to the exposure of certain body parts. Like breasts.

Courtney is a perky blonde. I shouldn’t have used the word perky. Poor choice.

My roommate with benefits flashes me a smile before disappearing into said room with the girl. Woman. Client.

Meanwhile, Ed is watching me with a speculative gaze while he sips his coffee. His first appointment for the day cancelled due to illness. Though Ed doesn’t seem particularly upset or anything by the loss of work. Guess there are always other jobs to do when you own a small business.

He too receives my best fake smile.

“She’ll be wearing tape over her nipples if it makes it any better,” he says in a quiet voice.

So I really am an open book. “Not particularly.”

“It’s just part of the job, Anna.”

“I know. It’s fine, really.”

He does not appear convinced. “Doctors have to look at body bits all day long, too.”

I nod. Because he isn’t telling me anything I don’t know. I just don’t particularly like it. That’s the truth of the situation. “You’re not concerned about us being involved and working together?”

He just shrugs.

“Okay.”

“You know, I asked him if he wanted a couple of tickets to a band that was passing through town last night. A friend of ours had bought them, then couldn’t make it,” says Ed, all in the same quiet reasonable tone. “I happen to know my brother loves that band. He only missed out on buying tickets because they sold out too damn fast.”

“Huh.”

“You know what he told me?”

“What?”

“He said he had to stay home and wash his hair.”

I snort. What a clown. We did in fact have sex in the shower, so it wasn’t entirely a lie. But he’d also known that crowds and loud noises tend to wear on me. Standing up for long periods of time isn’t great either. While I might have gone if he asked, it would have worn me out and we have work today.

“Then he waltzes in here this morning with a stupid grin on his face,” continues Ed. “My brother is not a morning person. Smiles before midday are in limited supply. But not today.”

I keep my mouth shut.

“The little shit is practically walking on sunshine.”

“The little shit is over thirty years old and more than six feet tall.”

His serious façade cracks for a moment. “Yeah. But he’s always going to be my little brother.”

I smile.

“We came out big,” he says. “All three of us were up around ten pounds. Mom still bitches about giving birth naturally.”

“Ouch.”

“Clem says if we ever go there she’s taking every drug on offer.”

“And I do not blame her one iota.”

He smiles.

I cross my arms. A purely defensive position given where I’m about to take the conversation. “Thought for sure you’d have some concerns about us getting involved.”

“You’re adults. If you think you can live and work together and still manage a relationship then that’s on you two,” he says, taking another sip of coffee. “I trust you both not to bring any shit in here. To behave professionally and so on.”

I nod. “We’re not really in a relationship, though. Exactly. It’s, um, it’s something else.”

He just looks at me.

Oh my God. Talk about overshare. My mouth needs to stay shut.

“It’s complicated, huh?” he asks with a gentle smile.

“Yeah.”

“I’ve been meaning to thank you, actually.” He takes a seat on one of the stools on wheels we have around the place. “Leif hasn’t been himself the last year or so. What with everything that happened. You’ve brought him back to life in a lot of ways.”

“Oh.” And that’s all I’ve got. Go, conversation skills.

“He trusts you. I mean, he’s spending less time on his own, going out more, doing stuff,” he says. “Things were pretty grim there for a while, so it’s really good to see.”

“I’m glad.”

“He was just . . . down on everything. Especially after all the shit that happened.” A trace of fury crosses his face. Along with something close to guilt. “It was kind of a shock to see him that way. He’s always been the joker, you know? The positive person that makes everyone laugh and never takes anything seriously. Sometimes to his detriment. But it’s like his heart was full of hate there for a while. Everything weighed him down. The accident, that the police couldn’t find the guy, then there was the amount of pain he was in with his arm all fucked up. You helped shift the remnants of all that and I’m grateful.”

“He’s a good friend,” I say. Because what the hell am I supposed to say?

“Clem said your divorce was finalized on Friday.”

“Yes.”

“Must be a weight off your mind.”

“It really is.”

This is the part where some people would warn me to maybe not get involved with their little brother, what with how my own life has been so riddled with strife lately. Suggest I take some time to get my own shit together. But Ed doesn’t do that. Which I appreciate.

“I better get started on these sketches,” he says instead, picking up his tablet. “Try not to worry about what he’s doing. Because I assure you, he’s not getting up to anything. Tattooing takes focus and concentration. One moment of distraction is one moment too many.”

“Mm.”

He frowns. “You’re a worrier. You’re going to worry anyway.”

“Yeah.”

There’s nothing much more to say. We both go back to our own work. It was a nice chat, all in all. My new boss is a nice guy. Leif is lucky to be surrounded by people who care about him. Not that I’m a lonely girl or anything. We’re both lucky.

I get back to updating the books on the laptop sitting on the front shop counter. Things are looking good. I’ve also been doing some research into conventions Ed and co might want to consider attending, along with other possible avenues of promotion. Though it seems to work mostly on word of mouth in this industry. Social media has a role to play. There’s also a new line of inks they might want to take a look at. I’ve been organizing some samples for the shop.

Yep. Lots to think about. Plenty to do.

And the thing with a sternum tattoo is that you’re not just going to see bare breasts, but there’s a very strong chance you’ll be touching them too. I mean, you’d have to. Lift them up. Hold them out of the way. Maneuver them here and there. Things like that. With gloves on, but still. The fact remains that my special sexual someone is perhaps right now handling another woman’s breasts. I must have feelings about this. Lots of feelings. My mind, however, is a mess. I’m having issues sorting out exactly what those feelings might be.

Stupid thing is, I didn’t have the presence of mind to ask if we were exclusive. I mean, I think we are. Probably. I’d be highly impressed with his organizational skills if he did manage to find time to see another woman given all of the time we spend together. All right, so I wouldn’t be impressed, I’d be pissed. Are we together? I wouldn’t say that exactly. Together kind of entails a commitment of some description. Are we dating then? Sort of? No, we’re not. Because that would entail going out on dates and we’re not doing that. We just added sex to our regular hanging-out activities. And hey, I’m not complaining. The sex is amazing. Best I’ve ever had. Guess I just have questions. Like what are the rules in this situation?

But it’s his job. It’s just his job.

He did not ask for that woman to take her top off. And if he walks out of the back office and I’m immediately all up in his face with my insecurities it won’t be good. I need to be cool about this. Bring it up all casual like later when we’re at home. Just sort of have a chat about things. Again.

God knows how long I’ve been staring off at nothing contemplating Leif’s hands on another woman’s body, but Courtney comes out of the back room, still tugging on her loose top. I jump to my feet for some reason. Not on edge at all.

“Time for a cigarette,” she says.

I fake smile again because customer service matters. Also, my boobs are a bit smaller than hers and about five years older. That’s five extra years of dealing with gravity and underwire, thank you very much. Oh well. There’s nothing I can do about them right here and now. Not that I would if I could. Heck. I’m driving myself insane.

Behind her comes Leif, looking no different regardless of where his hands have been. Jeans, sneakers, and a tee featuring Godzilla. He’d suggested this morning that it was a subtle reference to his monster-size dick. Bless him. He keeps right on walking until he’s backed me against the counter.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi.”

Our faces are close and our bodies even closer.

“I guess we’re not playing it cool at work?” I ask. Another thing we forgot to talk about.

“Eh. Whatever.” He gives his brother a disinterested glance over his shoulder. “Unless you want me to play it cool at work? You’re not worried about idiot over there, are you?”

Ed calmly raises his middle finger and keeps setting up for his next client.

“You mean my boss?” I ask.

“Yeah. Him.”

“I guess not,” I say. “I mean, he seems okay with us.”

“Of course he is.”

“Though this does seem a little beyond roommates with benefits.”

He scratches at his stubble. “You think?”

“What I think is that we should talk later.”

Leif blinks. “You want to talk?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” He shifts even closer. “I don’t have a lunch break today, so can it wait until we go home?”

“Yes.”

“So we’ll go home, talk about whatever you want to talk about, and then I’ll dance for you.”

My brows rise. “You’re going to dance for me?”

“Yes, I am.”

Ed snorts. He tries to turn it into a cough, but it’s not very believable.

“Did you study dance when you were at school or something?” I ask, curious. Honestly, nothing would surprise me when it comes to Leif.

But it’s Ed that answers, “He was on the cheer team for like three weeks because he thought it’d get him in with the hot girls. But all that happened was he pulled a hamstring showing off trying to do a backflip.”

I bite back a smile.

“I wasn’t trying to do a backflip,” says Leif. “I was executing one perfectly. Right up until the hamstring went ping. My dream career cut tragically short.”

“That’s so sad.” Still trying not to smile. “I feel bad for you.”

“Thanks.” He inspects my forehead. “Anna, you’re ‘I’m worried’ line is on display.”

“My ‘I’m worried’ line?”

He tips his chin. “When you’re overthinking something with all your heart and soul, you get a little line between your eyebrows. It’s how I know to tread carefully.”

“I’m really not mysterious.”

“You’re really not,” he agrees. “But I like you anyway. Can you give me a hint what’s going on?”

I sigh. I even make me tired sometimes. “It’s okay, really. Like you said, I’m just overthinking things. We’ll talk about it later.”

“If you say so.” He’s not happy. “Later, then.”

The bell above the door rings as Courtney steps back inside. She smiles, but she’s not looking quite as perky as before. Her movements are careful, and there’s a tightness about her eyes and jaw. She doesn’t look like someone enthusing about baring her perfect breasts to a hot stranger. More like someone willing herself to push through the pain and get through this. Getting your sternum tattooed might not be quite as sexy as I’d been imagining.

Then Leif smacks his mouth against mine, kissing me hard and fast. It’s hot and frenzied and has quite the impact. And he doesn’t go light on the tongue. The kiss leaves absolutely no doubt in anyone’s mind as to who he’s with. As statements go, it’s a pretty great one.

“You good for now?” he asks.

“I’m good for now.”

Then he nods.

I’m still smiling, dazed and confused, when Leif and Courtney disappear out back once more. It doesn’t matter whose body parts he’d fondling on behalf of his job. The man is with me.

Ed shakes his head. “Told you.”

“You told me,” I agree. “Do you really think he’s going to dance for me?”

“Just don’t let him try the backflip.”

“I always thought you were way too tense for someone who was apparently getting it on the regular,” says Briar over FaceTime.

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah.”

We’ve already dissected a TV series, a handbag I’m thinking of buying, and certain passive-aggressive tendencies displayed by a new barista at Briar’s favorite coffee shop. Girl talk for the win.

“Huh,” I say. “It never occurred to me that my sex life with the Ex affected my demeanor, but who knows?”

“It’s a known fact that when the orgasms are good you’re in a better mood.”

“This does make sense.”

“Ryan was a nice enough guy up to a point,” she says. “But I had my reservations as to whether he was capable of actually getting the job done.”

“You thought about my ex and me having sex?” I ask, trying not to laugh. “Ew.”

She laughs too. “Like we haven’t dissected my sex life constantly over the past not quite a decade. God, you can be a big baby. I considered the physical satisfaction and welfare of my friend. It basically makes me a good person. And don’t act like you’re incapable of being an inappropriate gossip queen when it suits you. I know you too well for this.”

“This is true.” I sigh. “This revelation fascinates me. What the hell gave it away?”

“He’s just one of those men that have issues seeing beyond themselves, I think. Women are like an adjunct to them. As if we’re not quite real on some level. Like our wants and needs are lesser somehow. And if they’re not seeing us as people, then why take the time and trouble to see to our bedroom needs beyond the basic.”

“Such as the manly art of providing and so on?”

“Exactly. Don’t forget the grilling. Grilling is very manly.”

“Hmm,” I say. “He did have a pretty traditional outlook in a lot of ways. Insert wife here and she does these set things. I wouldn’t say he established parameters exactly, but there were expectations that could be a little constraining at times. Like he’d be surprised by some of the stuff I did. It’s amazing how people can make you feel like shit without saying a word.”

“It is. And I think their parents are to blame in part for painting a picture of the female of the species as either being a Madonna or whore with little in between.”

“I hear you,” I say. “Like mother and family and home are all we’re capable of. Or all that’s fitting. I hate that shit. The idea that our role in life is solely determined by our designated sex organs instead of our brains and our hearts.”

“Lots of idiot men out there feel that way.”

“They need to take a look at the calendar and see what century they’re living in.”

“True,” she says.

“I think their parents have something to answer for in helping to establish that point of view.”

“Along with the person themselves needing to answer some hard questions,” says Briar. “You can only blame your parents for ruining your life for so long.”

“I actually quite enjoy hanging my issues on Mom sometimes.”

“Hell, we’ve all done that. Don’t feel special.”

“Whatever gets you through the night,” I agree. “It’s nice to know that our Introduction to Psychology class can come in handy all these years later.”

“Professor Callihan was something else.”

“Oh, he was so hot.”

“The thirst was real.”

“I enjoyed that class for many and varied reasons.”

“I totally respected the man for his mind,” jokes Briar. “Maybe we should have taken some philosophy as well to aid us in our spouting deep and intelligent-sounding bullshit regarding each other’s love lives.”

I click my tongue. “Yeah. That would be something. Imagine the size of the words we could use then.”

“We should start a podcast. Just us dissecting people’s love lives and general life choices.”

“Like everyone could benefit from our wisdom?” I ask.

“Exactly.”

“God help everyone,” I laugh, and she laughs, and it’s all so good. Just chatting with a friend. Feeling that connection with the sisterhood and all. Clem and Tessa had asked me to accompany them to a movie sometime, but I don’t know. Something held me back. As much as I liked them, I didn’t want to rush into anything.

“Though getting back to the subject of woman as breeder and child wrangler.” She pauses to clear her throat. “You do want to have children and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“There is nothing wrong with that. It’s just not all I want, you know?”

“So what do you want?” she asks, head cocked.

At this, I’m laughing again. “Oh, boy. After all of my brave words, I don’t actually know. I’m still figuring it out.”

“It’s not over until it’s over. You have time. There’s no rush.”

“Thanks.” I wrinkle my nose, thinking deep thoughts. “Do you think I’m rushing into this, though?”

“This as in Leif?”

“Yeah. Seeing someone so soon after the divorce has given me pause. I’m sure certain people would be horrified.”

“Fuck them. No, I don’t think you’re moving too fast,” she says. “It’s been months since you and that cheating fool were together as an actual couple. Don’t beat yourself up over the imagined opinions of people who don’t matter.”

I sigh. “You’re right.”

“Furthermore, I think the universe sends us opportunities on its own timeline and we can either take the chance and make it work or not,” she says. “There’s never a perfect time to meet someone. There’s always something going on or some issue in your head you should be dealing with on your own. But life keeps right on happening.”

“God, you’re wise.”

“About some things, maybe.” She narrows her eyes. “Here’s a question for you . . . do you still believe in love?”

“That sounds like the start of a Cher song.”

She snorts. “Don’t go there.”

In an act of pure avoidance, I turn the question back on her. “Tell me, Briar, do you believe in love?”

“Well, the bartender I may have mentioned a time or two certainly has given a lot of time and attention to give me. A lot of physical affection. We definitely have chemistry. It could certainly develop into something.” Her tongue plays behind her cheek. “I don’t know if I’ve ever been in love exactly. Not the kind of true, enduring, and abiding love we all hear about and they keep putting into songs and books and movies. The fact is, I was focusing on my studies and now my main priority is my job. But that doesn’t mean someone couldn’t come along and encourage me to make room for more. You never know.”

“It’s up to fate, then.”

“I think it is.”

“Romantic love is nice and all, but it’s not like we don’t have lots of other types of love in our life.”

“This is also true,” she says.

“Friendship, family, et cetera.”

“They can all be hugely important and rewarding.”

“Speaking of which, I was thinking a trip to New York around Christmastime would be nice. We could freeze our ass off in the big city.”

“Really?” Her eyes light up. “I highly recommend you write that into your calendar. I would love to have you come visit. Not sure I’ll be making it home again this year.”

“It’s decided then. We can shop and drink and so on.”

“We sure can. I’ll be looking forward to it.” She grins. “You never did answer my question, though.”

“What question?”

“Do you still believe in love?”

“I don’t know,” I admit. “I think relationships are hard and it’s easy to coast along on the basis of not causing waves. In which case, you ultimately just sort of drift apart.”

Her brows rise. “Nice boating analogies.”

“I’m probably not the best person to talk to about love just yet.”

“But what about the initial rush of falling in love,” she asks. “Do you still believe in that?”

I stick out my tongue. “I don’t know.”

“Do me a favor and ask Leif what he thinks.”

“What?” I semi screech.

“Just do it.” And the woman hangs up on me.

I set my cell down on the dining room table and take a breath. “Hell no. That’s never going to happen.”