Paradise City

I had hours before I was supposed to be at work, and all that I could think about was the way I felt under his touch. The warmth of his hand, the peppermint gum on his breath, the indigo strands in his eyes. I was romanticizing it way too much, and over thinking it even more, but I couldn't deny the way this guy made me feel.

I wanted to be strong. I wanted to stubborn and hardheaded. I wanted to push away every feeling that I had, good or bad, and go back to the person that I was when I first moved here. No frilly, gossamer blouses. No high heels. No make up. No Alisha. No Dean. Just me and a good, long TV show marathon.

I didn't want to accept the truth that was right in front of me. And I couldn't figure out if it was because the truth scared the living shit out of me, or because my gut was screaming at me that this was a bad idea. That I should know better. Or maybe it was both.

But the truth was that the bastard had weaseled his way under my skin and I liked him.

Of course, there was a problem with that. A problem that I didn't know the answer to, because I didn't know anything about him. I knew his name, and the only reason I knew his last name is because someone else told me. Someone else also told me what he did for a living. He liked beer, cheep beer at that, and also pancakes. I knew we moved to Vegas in a similar fashion, and that he had been to Germany. And he thought my record selection was impressive.

But that was it. When I thought about it, I actually felt a little pathetic.

I didn't know him at all.

Dean challenged me. He was clever. He was the center of attention in the crowd, and yet seemed so reserved and shy. Not to mention how passionate he was. That was a no-brainer after watching a few of his matches. He was funny, laid back, and he liked to dance.

I wanted to hate him. But I didn't, and so far could not find one single characteristic that I didn't completely admire. He might have been too attractive, but that was it. And he was attractive. Boy, was he attractive. I'd be a liar if I said I hadn't broken out in a cold sweat at three o'clock in the morning because I couldn't stop thinking about that deep, rough voice in my ear as his hands gripped me in my most intricate places. I blushed just thinking about it. There was a wild animal inside of him, rabid with instinct and desire and a lunacy I was desperate to delve in to.

One of us had to be the bigger person, here.

I stepped into the elevator and swiftly tapped the *L button. A good, long shift would be good for my brain. I needed something else to occupy my thoughts for a while. Just for a while though, because I was dead set on settling this score sooner rather than later. I needed to do it before he skipped town again, and it'd be another month, month in a half before I saw him.

The bell rang and the elevator doors sprang open. I was not expecting Dean to be standing there when they did. The air grew tight around me, and suddenly I wished for a meteor to just fall out of the sky and directly on to me. "Hey." I said quietly. I wasn't even sure if he heard me.

He had a pair of dark sunglasses on, they sat awkwardly on his face, and even though I couldn't see his eyes, I was almost certain he was glaring at me. He brushed past, not saying a word, leaving me in confusion as I watched him board the elevator.

"Can I help you?" He said right as the door shut.

I bit the inside of my cheek, fighting the urge to march my ass right back upstairs and start World Ward III right in this apartment building. I didn't, though, and I couldn't.

One of us had to be the bigger person.

As it seemed, Mr. Hot Shot Superstar, was not the one to do it.

He said he was sick of the games, and yet, here he was playing them. Giving me a dose of my own medicine.

The worst part about it was that, yes, I liked him, but what does he think? What was going on in that private mind of his? It sounded so immature to wonder if he liked me too, because I wasn't in second grade. This wasn't elementary school. We were both adults. The next note to get passed between us wasn't going to have a 'yes', 'no', 'maybe' option at the bottom. I wasn't going to get my heart broken like I did when I was sixteen. I wasn't going to wait around, and get my hopes, only to end up completely disappointed.

I was going to take a page right out of my mom's book, walk right up to the man, and tell him how I feel.

Of course, the more I thought about it throughout the day, the more awful it sounded. What was I going to say to him that wouldn't end up being some stupid, sarcastic remark that wasn't what I originally meant to say at all? And God knows if he pulls some stunt like he did this morning, I wouldn't be able to say anything at all.

Why was this so hard?

Why couldn't I just man up and do what needed to be done?

Why was I over thinking it so much?

I pulled out my phone as I waiting in traffic and dialed James' number.

"Hey, you've reached James. Leave a message and I'll call you back when I get the chance, thanks."

"Hey it's me. You're best friend, Callie. I don't know if you forgot who I was or not, because I feel like I haven't talked to you in so long, but whenever you get the chance, just call me back. I miss you. Bye."

When I got to work, we were already slammed. It was easy to just forget about any problems I had when my soul priority was to make sure my costumers were happy, which they always were. If I even thought of something other than getting ketchup for my table, I'd set myself back and end up forgetting the ketchup all together.

Before I knew it I was on my way back home. My palms we sweaty. I was nervous, my knees were shaking. I took the long way back, adding a good twenty minutes to my commute. I stopped to get gas, picking up a bag of chips and a drink while I was there. A lump formed in my throat as I pulled into my parking spot and saw Dean's S.U.V a few spots down. I was secretly hoping that he wouldn't be home. With each step I took towards that elevator, my heart sunk. By the time that I got to my floor, it was at my knees.

I decided to change before I went though with this. Get in to something a little bit more comfortable, and hopefully not look like I had just worked all night long. However, when I looked at my closet I was having a difficult time deciding what to wear. Do I try to look cute? Do I go for relaxed? Do I go all out and wear a dress? Obviously not, I didn't want to look like I was trying too hard. Or at all, really. I decided on a pair of fitted, grey sweats and a white top. Nothing too extra, even though I did reapply my lipstick and spritz myself with perfume so that I didn't smell like beer and peanuts.

As I paced the hallway outside of his room, I could hear his TV. Every few seconds he would laugh, and butterflies would flutter in my stomach, making me second guess myself. I had already turned around and headed back for my apartment at least six times, but each time I found myself standing right back in front of his door, fist hovering, ready to knock.

"Just do it." I heard my mother's voice in the back of my head.

Fine.

I swallowed my pride and mustered up the courage and knocked a few times.

"Yes?" He asked as he opened the door.

I held up the bag of Sun Chips that I bought at the gas station. "Truce?"

He smirked, snatching the bag out of my hand and disappearing back into his apartment. He left the door open, but I wasn't sure if he was coming back, or if he was inviting me in.

"You can come in, ya know." He said.

His apartment was the mirror image of mine, only shockingly empty. He had a couch, an entertainment center, and a coffee table. That was it. There wasn't a single picture hanging on the wall, no decorations. Just plain emptiness.

I stood there awkwardly in the middle of his living room as he sat on the couch and munched his Sun Chips. "You wanna sit down?"

"Uh- I, uh- Um, I came here to talk to you." I said.

"Well can you sit down and do it? You're making me nervous."

Making him nervous? Ha.

I cautiously sat next to him on his couch. He eyed me suspiciously as I tried to form words in my head.

"You know what, fuck it." I said throwing all caution to the wind. "You're insufferable. You're a comple-"

"Are we really doing this again?"

"Look, I don't know how to tell someone I like them without insulting them first, okay? Can you just please not interrupt me?"

He narrowed his eyes at me, but gestured for me to finish what I was going to say.

I sighed. "What I'm trying to say is that you're rude, and insolent, and I don't like you. But for some fucking unknown reason I can't stop thinking about you and it's driving me fucking crazy. Take it however you want, but I'm sick of playing cat and mouse. No more games. We're both adults."

After a few moments, after he didn't say anything, I gave up any bit of hope that I was clinging on to that thought he might feel the same way. Without another word, I stood up, making my way towards the exit.

"Wait, Callie." I heard him say from behind me.

I whipped around to face him, ready to go on a tangent about how it was totally fine that he was just fucking with me the whole time, and how I really didn't expect anything else. How I didn't get my hopes up and that I would be just fucking peachy. But as soon as I turned around, he was towering over me, looking down at me with those perfect baby blues.

His hand found it's way to my neck once more, and my skin lit up like a wild fire. I would have never imagined how good it would feel for a man to touch me. A real man. Not letting sixteen year old, douchebag Jared feel me up in the school parking lot. I had only dreamed of moments like these.

"If you're gonna kiss me, just do it, and don't fuck with me this time." I whispered as he held his lips right over mine. Mere centimeters would close the space between us.

"You're fucking crazy, you know that?" He replied. His voice was low and as smooth as honey. As his lips moved they grazed mine, sending the coldest shivers down my spine. My whole body was screaming for him to touch me, please just touch me. Touch me and kiss me, and do whatever you want.

"If I were a betting woman, I'd say you liked i-"

He closed the small space between our lips with a slow, lingering kiss that took the breath right out of my lungs. My legs wrapped around his torso as he lifted me up to meet his height, and my hands snaked through his curls. I had been completely unaware that he was carrying me towards the bedroom until he laid me down on the bed.

I tried to keep my mind in check, though it was overfilled with too many scenarios of what was going to happen next.

None of those scenarios mattered, so long as he didn't stop kissing me.

His mouth moved from my lips to my cheeks, then delicately placing sweet kisses on my jawline to my neck, down to my chest, and back to my lips. My hands pulled up his black beater, allowing me to feel his warm skin. I wanted to feel his chest weighing down on me, his hips between mine. I wanted this.

"Dean," I whispered between kisses and moans.

"Hmm?"

"When are you leaving again?" I needed to know.

"In the morning." He tilted my head so that he could attack my neck in a vicious kiss that prompted another moan from my lips.

"Dean, we can't." I said. He rolled back on the bed, sitting with his legs out in front of him. "Not when you leave in mere hours."

Call me old-fashioned, but I didn't want my first time to be on some random night and wake up a lone with a note on the pillow that said "Sorry, but I had to catch a flight, you can see yourself out". Maybe I had high standards, or maybe it was the way that I was raised, but I wanted there to be at least something special about it.

It was quiet for a moment. I wasn't sure what to do or say next. Dean played with a frayed thread on his bedspread.

"Well, I should probably go." It was the most awkward moment of my life.

"Why?" He asked, a little too quickly. "Uh, you can always stay."

"I shouldn't." I slid off the bed, running a hand through my wild hair.

Dean got up, too, not even trying to hide the bulge in his sweats. I blushed, adverting my eyes down to the floor. He walked me back to the front door, silently. I stepped through, turning around to give him a sheepish smile.

"I wont be back for another six weeks."

My smile was gone instantly. Why that long?

"Then I'll see you in six weeks." I said, trying not to look too disappointed.

"I guess so." He replied as I turned around and took the few steps to my door.

I looked back at him one more time and gave him a small smile before I closed the door.

What in the hell was I going to do for six weeks?