Page 22 of Back to Me

CHAPTER SIX

GRAHAM

Sometimes I wonder what’s wrong with me. How could I be so stupid?

After watching Sara walk to her bedroom alone, I didn’t move for what felt like hours. My body was stiff, frozen to the floor. It was as if my body refused to turn around, confining myself to the solace of my bedroom. I didn’t want to go to bed alone again.

As she walked away, I could feel this invisible pull, drawing me, compelling me to follow her. But I ignored it, and when the feeling disappeared, I stalked back into the one room where I know Sara will never be.

The air in my room is cold and lifeless. I fight to take in a single breath as I unbutton the top button of my pants. Sliding them down my legs, I hear the crinkling of Jenna’s receipt still shoved deep in the corner of my pocket.

I’m so stupid for taking it. I know Sara saw how Jenna had written down her number, but I took it anyway. She was right, convinced Jenna was attracted to me. Despite Sara not believing how oblivious I am to other women, I truly am because when I’m with her, there is no one else. I couldn’t focus on any other person on that patio as she sat across from me in her mini skirt and black blazer, her breasts pushed up, the tops of them peeking just above the V-neck of her jacket.

I wasn’t convinced of Jenna’s interest until she laid the receipt on the table, placing it directly in front of me. I should have left it sitting on the table or at least, thrown it in the trash. But foolish me picked it up and shoved it into my pocket, knowing I would probably never use it.

Pulling it from my pocket, I sit on the edge of my bed and stare at the small piece of paper pinched between my fingers.

Fixated on the black ink, I can’t quite figure out what to do with it. My first instinct is to throw it away. But another thought runs through my mind, thinking why should I? I’m single, I have every right to save it and no one to tell me it’s wrong.

With hooded eyes and the exhaustion of the day consuming me, I slide open the small drawer of my nightstand and drop the receipt in before closing it shut.

Crawling under the cold sheets, I spread my arms and legs out, wishing there was more than just an empty mattress.

***

When I wake up the next morning, I stumble into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

Sara was standing in front of the center island, scrolling through Facebook on her phone. Beside her are two cups of coffee, one black, one with cream.

“Thank you.” I pick up the black coffee, bringing the hot liquid to my lips.

“You’re welcome.” Nodding, she lifts her hands, straightening the necklace resting on her chest as she faces me. “I figured you would need it today if you’re going to start working on your exhibit pieces.” She shines against the morning sun, golden strands peeking through the blonde hair she has piled on the top of her head in a tight, neat bun.

“Yeah, I’ll probably spend the day up in the loft and see what I come up with. Luckily, I think I already have some I can submit to Mr. Price.”

“That’s great.” She sends me a tight smile.

“I was also thinking.” I take a deep breath and sigh, sitting down on the barstool beside her. “Maybe we could start working on one of our pieces tonight when you get off work.”

When she turns to me this time, she keeps her focus on me, her eyes boring into mine. I can see the excitement building in them as they transition from their normal dark emerald to a light jade.

My stomach twists into knots, thinking of how I will have the whole night with her to myself—no distractions, no one else. Just me and her, side by side. How it should be.

I’ve lived with Sara for years but just because we live together, doesn’t mean I see her more often than if we didn’t.

For a few years, I jumped from one odd job to another. One year I worked as a carpenter, building a church. Another I spent working as a server in one of Dallas’ most upscale restaurants. At some point, I decided to leave all the bullshit, meaningless jobs behind and start focusing on what I really want out of my life. My art. Now, I make most of my money from selling the occasional painting. Lately, I’ve been around the apartment more often, but Sara is still tied to her nine to five.

“Absolutely. I’m excited to get started.” Her voice is like velvet as it spills from her full, purple-red lips. I love the way the deep, saturated color is painted across her mouth and stare for a few moments, trying to figure out what shade of lipstick it is.

Her arm brushes against my side as she lifts her hands, sliding them between her shirt and her tight pencil skirt. The subtle movement of her body grazing mine brings back the familiar feeling I’ve come to know. I crave her touch. It’s like a drug. At first, I only want a little, but the more time I go with only a taste, I can’t help wanting more.

Since she hasn’t put her heels on yet, her head is in line with mine as I remain seated on the barstool. I stare, watching as her hand makes its way around her waist, tucking the thin, white fabric into her skirt and listen to the sound of her skin slide across her body with each movement. My throat burns as the moisture leaves my mouth. I cough, attempting to clear my throat from the searing pain growing beneath my neck and chest. I awkwardly take another sip of my coffee to no relief, the hot liquid only making it worse. But I ignore it the moment she leaves the space beside me, sitting on the couch to slide on her heels. The air turns cold once again, and I fight every urge to follow her, push her against the couch, and devour her warmth.

She stands up, smoothing out her skirt. “If you finish something today, can you text me a picture?” Her shoulders fall slightly, and I can tell she’s not thrilled about having to leave. Even if I’m not particularly the reason she doesn’t want to go to work, I’m still flattered she’d rather spend time with me than with her crazy boss. She pouts her dark purple-red lips. “It would really brighten my day.”

Attempting to rid the burning sensation, I clear my throat. “Of course.”

Glancing over her shoulder, she smiles at me one more time, holding the door halfway open. “I’ll talk to you later then.”

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