Skipping a Beat

We retreated back to the Night Owl once again, but this time Paige was nowhere in sight, and our table was across the restaurant tucked in a back corner and adorned with too many staring eyes to make me comfortable. But Reese as always, sunk right in, draping an arm around the back of the curved booth, kicking his feet back so they were crowding mine again.

“Fuck I need a drink,” he declared and I wanted to point out that it would be about his ninth but I figured he’d drink it anyway.

“Why do you never drink?” Reese suddenly asked, leaning forward on his elbows, staring into my eyes. I secretly hated when he did things like that, suddenly invading my personal space, encroaching on me in a way I did not want to be encroached on.

“Because it’s illegal,” I said, not even thinking about the answer, as if it was something rehearsed. It almost was because it was about the fifteenth time he’d asked me that same exact question tonight.

“Bullshit,” he said, his eyes boring into mine and showing no signs of leaving anytime soon, so instead I was the one who peeled my eyes away, glancing slightly over his shoulder to simply find another pair of eyes meeting mine, but these were cold and beady, with no beating soul behind them and so my eyes retreated back to Reese.

“How is that bullshit?” I asked, dipping my head, wondering if the curve of it would fit perfectly into Reese’s neck.

“If that was the only reason you had for not drinking, you would be drinking,” Reese said, laughing slightly but the sound was almost too loud and you could really start to hear the alcohol.

“You don’t know me,” I said, wondering if this was true or not still. Maybe he even knew me better at this point than I thought, maybe better than anyone else in the world or maybe not.

“So what’s the real reason? Alcoholic father? Drunk mother? Dead half-brother who died in a crash involving alcohol?” He asked, and then I realized he really didn’t know me, or anything about my history, or even my middle name.

“None of the above,” I grinned, dragging my finger along the rim of my glass that arrived, feeling the sweat bead underneath my finger.

“Then what’s your story?” He asked, squinting his eyes, and even this was attractive on him. It never ceased to surprise me, over the entire course of our relationship, how breathtaking he was, even when he didn’t mean to be.

“My story or why I don’t drink?” I challenged him, leaning forward on my own elbows, still keeping enough space between us so that I wouldn’t have to feel his breath on my face.

“Your story, I figure that’s part of why you don’t drink,” He smiled, and I wanted to smile back, to soak up that smile, and maybe it was because of all the eyes on us, or the haze of nighttime setting over us, but I had never wanted to kiss him more than I had that night, drag him close to me by the collar, breath him into me, feel his skin on mine in a way that made it feel like it was too hot in the room.

“My whole story?” I asked, a flush appearing on my cheeks when I pictured myself revealing my life to this boy, my sob-story life that would have him frowning at me with pity in his eyes.

“The entire thing,” he said, taking another long sip out of his glass and it made me sick just to see him drink so much.

“Okay,” I said, and took a deep breath, leaning back in my chair so that his eyes couldn’t make me dizzy, but I still felt wobbly just with his eyes on me.

“Tell me about your parents,” Reese said, his voice going serious and low and it sounded sexier than I had ever heard it before and I wanted him to say my name in that voice over and over and over again.

“My mom is a prostitute,” I said, and then flushed deeply and ducked my eyes, figuring that it was best to get that information out of the way as quickly as possible, so then I could bury it somewhere in Central Park with the other victims of murder over the centuries. And maybe some were still even under there, decomposing slowly, turning into the dirt that surrounded them.

He gagged then on his drink and I couldn’t help but smile at this, “You’re shitting me.”

I grinned and shook my head slowly, letting my hair fall in front of it and hide my blush, “I’m serious, my mother is a whore for a living.”

“Well that explains a lot,” Reese said, leaned back in his own chair and folded his arms behind his head, flexing as he did so.

“What do you mean by that?” I said, my arms going over my chest in defense, my eyes glaring before I gave them permission to do so.

“You don’t want to be like your mom, so you’re trying to be the exact opposite,” he said and it was the first time I had ever found myself speechless in Reese Munn’s presence. “Trust me Laura, you don’t have to be a nun to avoid ending up like your mom, she made a choice to be who she is and you have a choice too, it’s not like your life is a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

“You act like you always know everything don’t you?” I asked, reaching for a fry and popping into my mouth so that I’d have something to do and focus on other than Reese Munn and his cryptic words.

“I do know everything,” He smirked. “So what’s up with your dad?”

“He used to be my mom’s pimp,” I said, and this time I flushed even deeper and I wanted to throw up because this was so embarrassing.

“You’re an episode of Oprah waiting to happen,” Reese declared, quite loudly and I winced as he finished off yet another beer.

“Too bad that show doesn’t exist anymore,” I grimaced in his direction.

“Oprah doesn’t know what she’s missing,” he laughed and I wondered how drunk he was going to be when the night was over, but maybe that would mean he wouldn’t remember anything that I was telling him, which gave me courage to continue.

“When he got my mom pregnant he and her left that game and he got us an apartment and started working at a regular job but he got really bored there. One day he brought home this shitty used guitar he got a thrift store and he tried to teach himself how to play and eventually he got really good, quit his job and joined a band. Two years later he left us to go on tour and never came back,” I rushed in one breath, trying to get the words out before I could think about them and let them hurt me all over again as it sometimes did. When it rushed all out I had no time to absorb what was happening and I could pretend that it wasn’t.

“Fuck,” Reese hissed, his eyes going wide and suddenly he was leaning closer again, closer than before and I was dizzy before he could even say anything.

“It’s whatever,” I shrugged, as if I didn’t care, as if I wasn’t upset that my father didn’t love me enough to stay. As if I wasn’t upset that my mother used me to make her clients pay her more, that she tromped the streets at night to sell the only thing she could sell.

“It’s not whatever, it’s your life,” Reese said, and his words were making me want to kiss him even more than his words were.

“Exactly, it’s my life, I’m used to it. It’s the only life I’ve ever known,” I said, not meeting his eyes because I didn’t trust my hands at that moment, so instead I wrapped them around my drink and felt it’s coolness sting the flesh of my palms.

“So what else is wrong with you? Do you have some terminal disease? Did your twin brother get shot in a gang incident?” He asked, his eyes going wide and I could tell for a moment he was worried one of these would have occurred in the sad Hallmark movie that was my life.

“Nothing like that,” I said, grinning and feeling bashful. “That’s the only exciting thing that my life has to offer.”

“No amazing talents? No secret double life?” He asked, and he feigned disappointment.

“My parents are the only interesting thing about me,” I told him, and for a moment this thought made me want to frown until there was Reese’s hand over my own and I knew it was probably the alcohol that was making him bold.

“That’s not true,” and his voice was urgent, as if it was dire I understood this information. “For starters, you’re the only girl that Jamie and Kelly actually like, Claire thinks you’re the best thing since sliced bread, and you’re the biggest bitch I’ve ever met while being the nicest person I’ve ever met,” he told me and looked into my eyes the entire time, as if he was trying to see down into my soul and I wondered for a moment if he actually could.

“How does that make me amazing?”

“If you can impress me you must be extraordinary,” and I believed him, for everything about Reese Munn was extraordinary and everything around him must be too, which made me feel like glowing for a second.

“Well then what else do you want to know about me?” I asked ten minutes later after he peppered me with questions about every tiny detail of my life. Raising my eyebrows, leaning on my elbows, my hair brushing against the empty plate in front of me I avoided his gaze as I had been doing most of the night, instead trying to memorize the number of owls that surrounded the table.

“Just one more thing,” he said and I felt relieved. “How does your alcohol problem fit into your story?”

“It doesn’t,” I laughed and scrunched up my nose, “I don’t drink because I don’t like the way it tastes.”

“No fucking way,” Reese said, “I was sure you had a drunk aunt somewhere in your messed up family.”

“Fuck you,” I said, but I laughed because it was strange to see Reese be wrong about something. “What’s your story then?” I asked, furrowing my eyebrows.

“Easy,” he said, relaxing back into his seat as if he was just waiting to tell this story all his life, or at least all night.

“I have two brothers and a mom back in Montana, where I lived up until I was sixteen and I left to move here and play guitar. My dad skipped out on us a few years ago when he met a young thing from China who didn’t speak a word of English but he thought she was hot. I also like long walks on the beach and I’m more of a dog person,” he finished with a sly grin and I wanted to slap him and smile at him all at the same time. “My life is a walk in the park compared to yours.”

“I don’t know, Montana is pretty rough,” I said smirking at him in return as he pretended to be offended.

“Montana is the state of champions,” he proclaimed proudly.

“Tell me at least one good thing that started in Montana,” I said, not missing a beat, meeting his gaze with my own and smiling.

He pondered this for a moment, opened his mouth and then faltered and beamed, “You’re right, it’s an awful state.”

I laughed and leaned forward, slipping my hand underneath his again because all the laughter made me feel bold, and still my heart stuttered along in my chest and all but stopped for a moment as his eyes glanced towards where the two of ours were. I wanted to vomit for that moment that he was staring at them, silently making up his mind while I put all of my heart out there—or at least the biggest amount that I had ever revealed in the history of my life.

“Let’s go,” He decided, placing a crumpled amount of bills on the table and standing up, it didn’t look like enough money and for the moment I didn’t care, because my hand was still underneath his as he did so and then my body all but shut down completely as he gripped it tightly in his own as he started to walk away, dragging me behind him but still holding onto me and I felt like vomiting and passing out all at the same time and I wasn’t sure which would come first.

We were soon outside underneath that same flickering neon sign, the one on the verge of dying that just wouldn’t quit. I thought for a passing minute about Paige, the girl he met here last time I was with him, the one who followed him like a shadow for two weeks and disappeared with him into the night every day like I had that one time and I wondered how on earth she was doing at that exact moment.

“I’m really sorry that you’re an episode of Oprah,” he told me, and his voice was low and it fit because the outside world was so quiet in comparison to the day. He was leaning close to me, the sign throwing light over his features sporadically.

“It’s not your fault,” I whispered back, and he was leaning down to my level and I could smell the alcohol in his breath and I wanted to lean into his chest and have his strong arms wrap around me.

“I know, but I’m still sorry,” he told me, and he was still leaning closer, his eyes dropping closed and suddenly my stomach was dropping down to my feet, his hands went to my elbows and held me in place even though I was frozen. My lips—my entire body—tingled as he got closer, and I could feel his breath blowing around in my face and I finally let my eyes close and behind them I was greeted with exploding colors and wild fantasies that were never going to happen and his hand moved from my elbow to the small of my back, pushing up my jacket there, touching my bare skin with his hand and I felt a flush of warmth all around my body.

His lips barely brushed against mine, finding their place on my jaw, the corner of my mouth and the bridge of my nose and I wondered again just how drunk he was. Then his hand suddenly seized my body tighter, dragged me so we were pressed against each other and his lips were against mine forcefully, and they were both soft and hard and yielding and I wanted to drown inside them as I sighed into the kiss and suddenly his hands were everywhere on my body and mine were tangling their way through his hair and pulling at the strands so that he groaned into my mouth and I thought i was going to pass out on the spot.

He released me then, breaking apart, panting and his breath mingled with my own and my chest heaved. He was silent for another moment, just staring at me, his eyes darting to my lips every so often and I wondered if I was ever going to get to kiss him again like that. My hands I noticed were still tangled in his hair and I quickly removed them after a few minutes, moving them down to my sides and I wanted to just pull them back up to him again.

“I’ve wanted to do that ever since I met you,” he said glancing down at my lips again, his own were smiling and I wanted to hear him groan into me again.

“I want to do that again,” I was saying, and I had never felt so bold in my entire life and then I was wrapping my arms around his chest, placing kisses on the front of his shirt, and his hair was stroking my hair and I could tell he was still smiling.

“God Laura,” He groaned into my hair and I pulled away so I could look at his face and it was suddenly intense instead of playful and his hand had stilled in my hair.

“I’ll see you tomorrow Reese,” I said, my voice soft as I tried to untangle myself from his arms and pull myself away.

“I’ll be damned,” he called as I started to walk away and I whipped back around to look at him, “I actually got you to kiss me.”

“Don’t get cocky,” I said, beaming because I couldn’t stop smiling at him.

“Too late,” He said, and then he was stepping closer, his arms going around me again as his lips were on mine for just a moment before they were gone and Reese was smiling in my face and Reese was stalking away.

I watched him go then, standing there in the flickering light under the restaurant with all the eyes, wondering if he would remember this in the morning or if he would want me at all in the light of the day. Wondering if I would still want him.