No Chance by Lisa Suzanne

CHAPTER 27: BRETT

We spend the day with Tyler and his wife and kid, and it feels a lot like a double date.

Part of me wanted to go back to the zoo to see what we missed and to take her hand in mine again, something that feels so goddamn elementary given what I usually do with women I’ve known five fucking seconds...yet it feels so good. So normal. So right.

Danielle wanted to take the kids to the botanical gardens, so here we are, strolling among the plants. It’s a good place for us to visit because it’s mostly old people—which means less chance of being recognized in public and more chance of just walking around like normal couples get to do.

It’s rare I get to go anywhere with Tyler after he rose to notoriety when he appeared on MFB’s reality show, The Replacement War. He’s recognized everywhere, but a ballcap pulled down low and long sleeves to hide his telltale tattoos go a long way to protect our identities.

The women are pretty much handling the kids as they chat about changing diapers and how to feed a nine month old and shit like that, and Tyler and I are busy discussing our upcoming shows and some new music we’ve been working on.

We stop for a picnic at lunchtime, and Chance falls asleep in the stroller afterward. Luna climbs in her stroller for the first time all day and falls asleep, too. So then it’s just four adults taking turns pushing two kids around as we walk among fourteen thousand tulips and a million other flowers.

It’s pretty, I guess, but it’s not really my thing. I’m more used to smoking shit like this than admiring it for its beauty. But the women seem to be having fun, and that’s what matters.

Except...

That has never been what matters before. It was always about me and whether I’m entertained the way I want to be.

Does this mean I’m growing up? Because I’m not sure I like it.

We sleep in the hotel one more night, which means another night on the stiff couch for me. I’m not sure why I’m punishing myself other than the fact that I’m afraid to share a bed with her again...especially after we spent the last few days growing closer.

I almost kissed her the other day.

It took everything in me to stop myself, and I’m still not sure why I stopped myself. I guess because something is different about this girl. I don’t want to fuck her against a wall only to fuck her over in the morning. There’s too much riding on our relationship staying just the way it is. There’s a kid in the picture now, and that changes things.

Even though a tiny voice in the back of my head likes to remind me that she isn’t his mother...and maybe that makes it okay to take my shot at her.

We pull into Kansas City the next afternoon, and it’s right to soundcheck, a meet and greet, and then our gig. I hang out in the green room a little longer than I have been. I drink a couple more beers.

But I don’t search for a hook-up.

Hannah is at the table in the front cabin when I board the bus. She’s sitting at my laptop editing pictures, and she looks like she’s already gotten ready for bed. She’s been wearing her contacts during the day, and now her glasses fall down her nose just slightly and she twirls a strand of hair between her fingertips of her left hand while she navigates the mouse with her right.

I ignore the press on my chest. I ignore the twist of my stomach. I ignore the thought that I could decimate the innocence she exudes with the brush of my tongue or the push of a finger or the thrust of my hips.

Instead, I steer our conversation toward our shared goals. “Get anything good?”

She nods. “Come see.”

I move to stand behind her, and once again I’m in awe of her talent. I kneel on the floor beside her to get a better view.

I don’t know what she does to these photos. I’m not schooled in photo editing or whatever, but there’s a signature to her brand where I can tell it’s something she took...and it’s incredible.

Tommy is jumping through the air in one and I can practically hear the drums in another. I see Dustin playing the fuck out of his guitar and Tyler keeping the rhythm with his bass. Every picture tells a story of a man doing something he loves, and that love and passion is evident in every single one of these photographs.

“Goddamn,” I murmur, turning away from the screen to look at her. “These are incredible. You are incredible.”

Her cheeks color with modesty as she keeps her eyes forward, and it’s just another one of those little things that make her so damn endearing.

I don’t think I can help myself any longer. I need to know what her lips taste like. They’re always inviting with a muted shine, and I need to know if that shiny gloss tastes like cherries or vanilla or coconut or something else. I need to know what her tongue feels like as it moves against mine. Is she tentative and shy like she is in person? Will I need to lead the way through experiences she’s never had, or will she be confident and in control like the women I’m used to kissing?

I lean in a little, and I nuzzle her neck for a beat before I brush my lips against her cheek. My chest lights with anticipation as she starts to turn her head toward me, and I can’t help but wonder if this will just be a kiss or if it’ll be a kiss and something more.

And just as our lips move within mere centimeters, a cry from the back of the bus through the baby monitor seems to snap us both out of the trance binding us together back into reality.

“I should, um, go check him,” she murmurs, and then she practically runs to the back of the bus.

That was dumb, anyway. What was I thinking?

I wasn’t.

I need to be more careful. This poor girl has the weight of the world on her shoulders. The last thing she needs is me putting more pressure on her.

And so I won’t.

She comes back to let me know the baby is fine, and then she heads to bed.

The moment was broken, anyway. I lie on the couch in some attempt to fall asleep, and just when I’ve finally passed out, a drunk Tommy and his equally drunk target for the night stumble onto the bus rather loudly, pulling me from the sweet clutches of sleep. They don’t give a fuck that I’m lying across one couch as she mounts him on the couch directly across from me.

“Go to your fucking bed, man,” I yell at them, but they ignore me.

My options are to go to Tommy’s bed myself—which, uh, no thanks. Or I could go to the back of the bus and risk not only waking the kid and Hannah but also risk waking up with her pressed into me again, or I could just close my eyes and go to sleep right here.

None of the options are ideal, but instead of dealing with reality, I flip over, pull a pillow over my head, and wish for sleep to wash over me.

We play St. Louis the following night and then head up toward Chicago, and there hasn’t been much free time in the last few days...but that doesn’t mean I’ve escaped the temptation anyway.

It’s always there, lingering between us, and I find it when my gaze meets hers already on me or when she brushes past me and the smell of coconut follows her. I find it when I watch how good she is with my kid. I find it when I see her patience both with me as I learn to deal with a child and with Chance as she tries to get him to eat solid food.

We pull into Chicago in the middle of the night, and I’m sleeping on the couch once again. I hate it, but it’s what’s safest for both of us.