It wasn’t Blaine’s physical adornments that scared me. It wasn’t even his intense chocolate-brown gaze that made me forget to breathe. It was him. All of him. My body’s response to his scared the living daylights out of me.
I had been attracted to plenty of men before and had my fair share of conventional relationships. I had dated, had one-night hook ups, and even a fuck buddy or two. But with every single one of those guys, I was able to separate my body’s wants from my heart’s needs. Sex had nothing to do with feeling. It was quite the opposite for me. It got me out of my head. It pressed pause on the fear and doubt that weaseled its way into every other facet of my life. Sex was my band-aid over the bullet wound that was my scarred psyche.
Still, after each guy served his purpose, the guilt set in. It always did, and I knew from the first glance how long I could keep up the ruse. I could project how long we’d be in each other’s lives before I broke it off without reason.
Take Kenneth for instance. When I began working at his law firm, and he locked eyes with mine, I knew he would want something more. Much more than I could give him. He wanted a wife, children, a home, and a life together. All of the above were out of the question for me, so the moment those three little game-changing words passed his lips, I knew I had to crush him. I had to hurt him so deeply that he couldn’t keep himself from sobbing into my shoulder. Men like Kenneth didn’t get rejected, especially not for doing something as selfless and soul-bearing as loving another human being.
With Blaine, things were different. I couldn’t see the point where things would become complicated and I’d have to break his heart. I couldn’t decipher what exactly it was that he wanted from me, but I could clearly see what I wanted from him. And that fact, along with the uncertainty of his motives, if any, scared the hell out of me.
I smoothed my denim skirt and ribbed tank before taking a deep breath and advanced to the door. Suddenly I felt drastically underdressed, especially for someone seeking employment, but it was hella hot in Charlotte. I know I should be used it being that I lived in Atlanta before Dom and I moved up here eight months ago, but the sticky humidity was something I could never grow accustomed to.
Just as I was formulating an excuse to turn around and get back in the car, Angel sidled up to me and gave me a kiss in the cheek. It wasn’t our usual lesbian bit to prevent unwanted attention from guys. She knew I was 2 seconds from running. In the time we had lived together, Angel and I had grown extremely close. She knew when apprehension seized me to the point where I couldn’t move. She had experienced more than a couple of my freak-outs. And because she was nothing but patient and understanding, I loved her dearly.
We entered Dive and made our way to the bar. Most of the afternoon crowd was seated at tables rather than at the bar and to my surprise—and, honestly, dismay—Blaine was not stationed behind the bar. I immediately let out a relieved breath but, for some reason, it sounded more like a disappointed whimper.
“Good afternoon, I was hoping to find out more about the bartending position available?” I smiled, greeting the bearded man wiping down the bar with a rag. He was the same guy from before and seeing his familiar face gave me an ounce of assurance.
The older gentleman, probably in his 50s, rubbed his beard and nodded before extending a hand to me. “Is that right? Well, I’m Mick.”
I shook and smiled warmly. “Kamilla Duvall, but everyone calls me Kami. It’s good to meet you Mick.” I stole a peek at Angel as she walked towards the stage to check out the digs.
“Alright, Kami, let me go fetch you an application so we can go ahead and get the paperwork out the way.”
Once Mick retreated to the back, I took the liberty of getting a better look at the place. It was spacious, clean and it felt inviting. I knew I could be comfortable here. Comfort was a major factor in stifling all my idiosyncrasies.
Without warning, something deep within me clenched, nearly making me gasp for air. It was as if every one of my senses were on hyper alert and humming. I could not only feel him when he entered the room, I could taste him. He was on my tongue, minty and spicy, and tasting slightly of lime. That memory came barging in like a Mack truck. And something in me didn’t just want it as a memory anymore. It wanted it to be reality.
“Hi,” he muttered from behind me.
Just the sound of his voice jolted me, causing every detail from weeks ago to come rushing back with a vengeance. I tried to take a deep breath without the rise and fall of my shoulders being too obvious then licked my lips before turning around. My plan was to be nonchalant. Breezy. Maybe even flash him a friendly smile. But what my eyes found when I turned to face him was something I could not plan nor prepare for. It was…him. Dressed in simple jeans and a tee that showcased the vibrantly colored body art roped around his arms, he was even more gorgeous than I remembered. And, he didn’t have on a ball cap, letting his ruffled hair that screamed sex sweep across his forehead. Oh no. This would not be good. I was a whore for a good head of hair.