Chapter 18 Solana #2
I’m not even that hungry, but I need something to focus on besides how handsome and sexy he looks in his plain black t-shirt and dark denim.
I glance at the hockey game playing on his TV and smirk. “Do men ever watch anything other than sports?”
“Some men? Yes. Me? Not usually,” he answers. “I don’t have the best attention span to follow the long, drawn-out plots in most movies and TV shows. I’m too impatient. I’d rather see people competing to win something.”
“That’s one way to look at it,” I admit, reaching for a napkin. “So what you’re really saying is I can’t ever use your Hulu password?”
The corner of his mouth stretches into half of a grin. “Hate to disappoint you, but you’ll live.”
“You have to have at least one favorite movie or TV show though. Everybody does.”
He thinks on the question, swallowing his bite of pizza and washing it down with some Coke. He shrugs as he decides and says, “If I had to choose, probably Fight Club.”
“Fight Club? Never seen it.”
“You don’t know Fight Club? Brad Pitt? Edward Norton? ‘First rule of fight club is you don’t talk about fight club’?”
“Then what are you doing right now?”
He chuckles, then shakes his head. “Jesus Christ, I’m old. Guess it’s more of a Gen X movie.”
“I like vintage movies!” I protest, and he nearly chokes on his pizza, coughing while laughing.
“Vintage? Fight Club is considered vintage now? It came out in ’99!”
“Silver, the ’90s were thirty years ago.”
“Don’t remind me,” he answers. “I became a Steel King in ’96. Back when grunge was a still popular and people were still mourning Kurt Cobain from Nirvana.”
“‘Smells like Teen Spirit’! See, there’s a ’90s reference I get.”
“Don’t sound so proud of yourself. Not ’til you tell me what ‘vintage’ movies you like then, if Fight Club counts as ancient history.”
I think on it a second and blurt out the first one that comes to mind. “Poetic Justice is amazing. That scene where Janet Jackson reads her poem? Incredible.”
He stares at me like he’s amused but in disbelief. “Janet Jackson? Tupac? That came out in what, ’93? You literally weren’t even a cell in this world yet. Your parents probably hadn’t even met.”
“Joke’s on you, they had! Moses is a decade older than me, remember? I was an oops baby.” I pick up my pizza crust and playfully toss it at him.
It bounces off his chest. He catches it as he stands to get another Coke from the fridge. But as he passes me, he retaliates and taps it against my nose.
“Behave yourself,” he warns, his voice warm and teasing.
This is Silver relaxed. Silver without the weight of the club or his kids or his responsibilities.
I crave more of this version of him; more time to put his mind at ease and enjoy each other’s company.
“When Dad and Uncle Eddie were out on club business, I used to park myself in front of the TV all summer,” I tell him, wiping pizza grease on my napkin. “Just me and old movies all afternoon. Breakfast at Tiffany’s is probably my favorite. Audrey Hepburn in that black dress? Iconic.”
“Never seen it.”
The actress in me can’t resist. I adopt Holly Golightly’s playful mid-Atlantic accent, channeling Audrey.
“‘Never love a wild thing, Mr. Bell. That is what you’ve got to remember.’”
Silver glances over as he sits back down, one eyebrow cocked. “That from the movie?”
I nod, still caught up in the character.
“You’re good. Really good. No wonder you got Magnolia. What’s that line supposed to mean?”
“It’s about the main character—”
“Tiffany?”
I can’t help but giggle. “No, Tiffany’s is the place. It’s this super fancy jewelry store in Manhattan.”
“Wouldn’t know anything about that.”
“The main character is Holly Golightly. She’s this fascinating woman who refuses to be caged.
She won’t commit to anything or anyone because her freedom means a lot to her after being trapped in the past. But she still goes to Tiffany’s because deep down, under all her wild antics, she wants stability.
Somewhere to belong. Someone to belong to, even if she can’t admit it. ”
“And you relate to her?” he asks out of interest. “You’re the one wanting to be an actress, sneaking into bars on New Year’s Eve, talking about leaving for LA.”
I consider this, crumping my napkin in my hands. “In a way, yeah. I’ve always dreamed of being brave enough to leave Pulsboro behind, like Holly left her small town in Texas. Just pack up and go to LA. Become a talented actress. You know, someone who matters. Someone people remember.”
“You already are brave,” Silver says simply. “You’re already a talented actress. You got Magnolia, didn’t you? That’s not nothing, Solana. That’s impressive. So is what you did last night.”
He always knows exactly what to say. Always sees me more than anyone else does.
But sitting opposite him in his living room, deep down I’m aware he’s right. They’re the same realizations I’ve slowly been coming to from the time I woke up this morning.
I am brave. I killed a man who tried to hurt me. I stood up to Shay and Yvette today. I went after what I wanted and got the part. I’m here with Silver even though I know he’s trying to push me away.
It’s empowering going after what I want. Empowering to stand on business unapologetically and confidently. All things I’m learning and quickly becoming accustomed to.
Silver gets up to go put the pizza box in the fridge, cracking a joke about how he’s fed his so-called dad bod enough grease for one day. Especially amusing considering he’s in better shape than most college guys my age.
My heart pounds as I stand, making a snap decision.
This is the moment. Time to be brave about this too. Another opportunity to stop dancing around what’s between us.
I walk into the kitchen, stopping close enough to feel his body heat radiating in the small space. Close enough to smell his woodsy cologne, drawing a deep breath to gather any last courage I have.
“Silver…” I start slowly, going back to what I’d meant to say this morning. “Thank you. For everything. For last night. For helping me. For seeing me when no one else does.”
His brows furrow as he turns away from the counter to face me, and I rise up on tiptoe and press a kiss to his lips.
Just one simple, soft kiss that’s almost innocent in nature. But one that carries a note of hope too—and even promise on my end.
He’s gone still, frozen in shock by the forward gesture. His lips are warm and pleasant, slightly rough, sending immediate sparks through me once we touch.
But then he jerks back like he’s finally come to his senses.
“What are you doing?”
“I like you,” I say plainly, adding a small smile. “And… and I want to find out what that means. I want to explore this thing between us. Don’t you?”
He takes a couple more steps back, shaking his head vehemently. “You’re mistaken. You’re only saying that because you’re looking for an escape from what happened. It’s a trauma response, nothing more.”
“I’m not the one who’s mistaken! You are. You’re wrong,” I say with no shred of doubt to be found anywhere. “I am seeking something, but it’s not escape. It’s empowerment. Ownership over my own experiences, my own body, my own choices.”
“Solana—”
“I want to erase what Kel did. I don’t want him to be the only man who’s ever had me, especially when I couldn’t even consent. I want better memories, better experiences. You’re the man I trust to give me that. The only man I choose to. You’re who I want!”
His face darkens, jaw clenching so tight the muscle jumps. “Absolutely not.”
“Why?”
“’Cuz I refuse to take advantage of you when you’re vulnerable. When you’re traumatized and not thinking straight.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it!” I step toward him and he steps back, refusing to bridge the gap.
“You’re just as attracted to me as I am to you, Silver.
Are you going to pretend you’re not? I’m a woman—I can sense things!
I felt it when we kissed. I feel it every time you look at me. I felt it last night when you held me.”
“It’s time for you to go,” he growls, his eyes flashing with anger. He scoops up his truck keys from the counter and starts for the door. “C’mon, I’ll drive you home.”
“I can get myself home,” I say coolly, refusing to back down.
Refusing to accept anything from him when he won’t be brave like I am.
I pass him by on my way to the door, then stop long enough to let him know, whipping back around.
“You’re a coward, you know that? You’re afraid of what people will think.
That’s what your problem is! You care more about what our friends and family’ll say than you do what you want! ”
He grits his teeth, his hands flexing open and shut at his sides. “That’s not—”
“You act like you care about me, but you only care when it’s safe. When you can be the hero from a distance. But when I’m standing here, telling you I want you, suddenly I’m too young, too vulnerable, too something. You find all the excuses in the world, but you know the truth like I do!”
I yank the door open, then stop yet again for one more last word. “I know what I want, Silver. I’ve never been more sure of anything. The question is whether you’ll ever be brave enough to admit you want it too.”
I storm out into the night, leaving him standing in his front hall, the same conflict burning in his gaze.