Promise Me This (Between Breaths 4)

I felt Bennett’s hand knock mine twice, and then his voice in the distance. But all I could think about was the fact that I had Jessie in her bed the other night, my face was between her legs, and now she was talking to some douche, not even realizing how fucking hot she looked in that damn skirt, with her combat boots and tight top.

Since when in the heck had I ever thought heavy, clunky shoes on a girl were sexy? But I recalled what was beneath all of that makeup and clothing and that thought alone made my pants tighten unbearably. And now my knee was jiggling a million miles an hour.

“Dude, I think you got it bad,” Bennett said and those words snapped me right out of my thoughts.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I grabbed my beer and took a long pull.

“Finally got your attention,” Bennett said with a smirk.

I shrugged, not in the mood for any jokes tonight. Even if it was coming from Ben, my close friend, who knew me pretty damn well.

I looked at Bennett and then at his girlfriend, Avery, who had just arrived and was thankfully engaged in a conversation with one of the female tattoo artists, named Lila. No way did I want her to give me the business about chicks, even though I probably should’ve sought advice from someone like her. Someone who’d been more like me just a year ago—moving from bed to bed, running away from her past.

She was a straight shooter and would probably know what to say in this situation.

But what was this situation, exactly?

Jessie and I were friends, first and foremost. But we had also gotten it on twice now. Once rough and once soft, all on my terms, and then I walked away without any further discussion. She had every right to do whatever in the hell she wanted.

I thought about Jessie night and day, even jacked off to fantasies of her, but my brain was a jumble of mush. My family situation was a disaster because of what I’d brought on myself. My mother and brother weren’t speaking to me and I was working through it with my counselor.

Even though deep inside I knew I’d done the right thing with my family, I couldn’t help feeling culpable or wishing that I’d never opened my mouth to begin with. Not only that, even though I had confronted my father, I still couldn’t shake that same fear that gnawed away at me. And until I was free of that, I had no right to drag Jessie into my mess.

“What’s going on lately with you, man?” Bennett asked quietly, so that the others at the table, who had now moved on to play flip cup, would have a hard time deciphering our conversation.

I turned my attention back to Bennett. “What do you mean?”

He leaned over the table. “Something going down between you and Jessie?”

“Why do you ask?” What the fuck—was it written all over my face or something?

“Whenever you two are in the same room, you’re tense and always have your eye on her.”

“We’re friends, you know that.”

“Be real with me, Nate,” he said. “I get it if you don’t want to talk about it, but I’m no dummy. The way you acted at Quinn’s party?”

I just stared at him, heat clawing at my neck. When I didn’t say anything, he continued.

“You and Jessie have always had your little teasing back and forth, but you’ve never acted like this around her before.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. “Like how?”

He looked over his shoulder and swept his gaze across Jessie and the guy at the bar, who were now huddled closer, talking. “Like you want to get up and beat the shit out of that dude talking to her, that’s what.”

My shoulders slumped, the resistance sliding out of me. “That obvious, huh?”

“To me it is, I don’t about know how it looks to anybody else,” he said, keeping his voice soft. “What gives? Something happen between you guys?”

I looked my friend in the eye now. “Yeah, maybe.”

He tipped his chin. “That why you fixed her tire? You with her that night?”

I nodded and his eyes narrowed at me.

“She’s got my brain all twisted, man,” I said, sighing. “I’m just trying to figure it out.”

“Since I’ve never seen you strung out like this, I can understand the twisted part,” he said, signaling the server for another round. “But I’m not sure I understand what the problem is. Jessie’s a good girl.”

“The problem is: I don’t do relationships,” I said. “And besides, we’re so different.”

Bennett looked over at Avery as if perhaps recounting how different they seemed in the beginning of their relationship as well. In fact, I recalled a conversation I had with Avery once in front of the bonfire at the clambake last year. I remember telling her that if I found a strong connection with someone I’d investigate it, too.

Was that a load of bullshit I was telling her back then? I saw what was between them and it was so damn strong—like a current running through the air.

“Not sure we’ve ever thoroughly discussed the reason why you don’t do relationships,” Bennett said. Did he really want to begin talking about this in a bar?

“There’s not a lot to tell except that I didn’t have much to look at growing up. My father is a prick to my mom, you might have even already figured the rest out, and I don’t want—”

I stopped right there. Saying this out loud again was freaking me out. Not because it was Bennett. In fact, I wanted him to know. It was just that I had kept it so close to my vest my entire life and releasing it in these small bursts felt a lot like pulling a Band-Aid off clean—hopefully to find healed skin beneath.