Page 4 of Bear
“But," I say, "aren't you hungry now? Like, right this very second?”
He scratches his beard and looks down at me. His tongue slides over his upper lip. “I could eat.”
“Okay,” I say, happy to get this tiny, meager victory. “Then get down off that roof. I’m taking you for breakfast. It’s the least I can do. You really saved my ass last night. I was about to have a full-scale meltdown, and then you turned up and you took control and I don’t know what I would have done without you. Okay?”
“You’re the boss,” he says, already putting his tools back into his tidy, green toolbox. Covered in stickers. Looking about a million years old. Like it’s been passed down from father to son since there were men and women crossing the Great Plains on horse-drawn wagons. “But, I have to warn ya… I have quite the appetite.”
4
Bear
We sitacross from each other in a booth in a busy diner on the other side of town. It took a while for us to get here, but Lana said it was worth it. From the smell of the food coming off the grill, I’d say she was right.
I play with my napkin for a minute as our server pours us both a steaming hot cup of coffee. We both take a sip at the same time and we both let out a long sigh at the same time, and then we look at each other and laugh. A little self-conscious. A little bit of tension disappearing between us.
“Look,” I put the cup back down on the table. “I’m sorry about the way I acted earlier. I’m not used to being around people so much. I guess I’m not house trained anymore. It’s your house, and I was kind of rude. I should have asked your permission to turn the power off. But you were all curled up on the couch, fast asleep. I didn’t want to wake you.”
She lets out a breath. “It’s not your fault. Honestly, I’m surprised you haven’t turned heel and run away. I was being a bitch, with a capital B. You’ve come all this way to help me, and the least I could do is be thankful for it.”
I reach my hand over the table. “Fresh start?” I ask.
She takes my hand and shakes it. “Fresh start.”
Her skin feels smooth and soft against my rough, calloused fingers. Just touching her has my cock twitching in my pants. Hard. Pushing against the bottom side of the table. Demanding to be let free. To claim Lana’s sweet, tight pussy with powerful jets of my white, creamy seed.
I pull my hand back. Conscious that I might have been holding onto her a little too tight. A little too long.
She looks away. Her cheeks flush. Did she feel it too? The connection between us. The spark. Or am I just imagining things? Am I reading more into it than I should? Is she looking away because she’s uncomfortable? Because I’m freaking her out. Because she thinks I'm a weirdo? Sitting across from her. Looking at her like I'd like to tear her clothes from her body and run my hands over her delicious, young curves.
“Lana–”
“Bear–”
We both go to start speaking at the same time. “You first,” I tell her. Ever the gentleman. I may be rough and uncivilized, but it doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten all my manners.
“What’s it like living up in the mountain?" she asks. "All by yourself?”
My shoulders relax. I close my eyes for a second and picture my home. Peaceful. The thick, endless spread of trees that surround me. The way the cool, morning air caresses my skin. “It’s beautiful,” I say. “Just me and my dog.”
“Oooh!” She coos. “A dog? Do you have any pictures?”
“I don't even have a phone.”
“You don’t have a phone?” She places her hand over her throat. Her mouth falls open. Shock. “I don’t know how you can live like that? I freak out if I so much as can’t find mine. It’s like it’s a part of me.”
“Yeah, I used to be just like that. I haven’t lived up in the mountains my whole life. Far from it. I used to be down here, in the real world. A good little worker bee. But then I had a couple of rough years. My mother passed away. Cancer. I had to sit by her bed and watch her be eaten alive from the inside out. Watch her suffer in pain as I sat by, completely useless, and unable to do anything to help her. My fiancé cheated on me, too. She’d been cheating on me for a long time, but I’d been too busy to even notice. It made me take a step back and take stock of my life. Think about what was really important to me. I went up to a cabin in the mountains. A place my grandfather built nearly a hundred years ago when he was just a boy. It was only meant to be for a week or two. Just to clear my head and breath in some fresh mountain air and work out what I was going to do with my life. But, I fell in love with the place. I kept telling myself I’d stay an extra week. And an extra week turned into an extra month and an extra month turned into an extra year, and that was eight years ago. I’ve never looked back, and I’ve never regretted my decision.
“At first, giving up the phone. It wasn’t easy. Giving up all the little things that come with a modern, urban lifestyle. The television. The fast-food. Even the simple act of going to the supermarket and buying your groceries. But then I became self-sufficient. I started to appreciate the things Ididhave more. Because they were things I’d made myself. Everything I have I’ve worked for. And I don’t have clutter in my life. In a way, it’s freeing. But, to answer your question, I do get lonely. Just not when I’m up in the mountains. I’m too busy to be lonely, then. Too calm. Too happy. Too content. It’s when I come down here, to town. And I meet someone. And I realize that there are certain things I’m missing living up there alone. Certain people. And that I’m a man. And I have needs. And not all those needs are being met.”
Lana gulps. She bites her lip and looks at me from beneath long, black, curvy eyelashes. I hope she knows I’m talking about her. That the needs I’m talking about are the kind of needs that only she will be able to fulfill.
But the server brings over our plates. Eggs, bacon, beans, pancakes, sausage and toast and hash browns and tomato, and everything in between. And not just for me either. Lana orders the same. A veritable feast. Hard-earned and delicious.
We set upon it like too starving persons who just spent a month traipsing across a desert without any water. We don’t get a chance to continue our conversation. Too consumed in the food. But it hangs over us. Furtive glances. An occasional nervous smile. A moment when we both reach for the ketchup and our fingers brush against each other.
I’ve made my intentions clear. Or, at least I hope I have.
I want Lana. I need her. And I’m the kind of man who always gets what he wants.
