61. Bailey
sixty-one
Bailey
What, and I cannot stress this enough, the fuck just happened? I’m still standing at the counter frozen, dumbfounded.
Lolly.
Oliver?
Was he flirting with me?
Was I flirting with him?
I grab the back of my arm and pinch the ever loving fuck out of myself. “Shit!” That fucking stings. Okay, not dreaming.
My heart is fucking pounding in my chest. Thumping so hard it’s making the insides of my ears itch. Jesus, Mary and Broseph this is actually insane.
I run the encounter through my mind multiple times over, trying to get to the bottom of what the hell I had been thinking. And, more importantly, what in fresh fuck I had been feeling.
Was my dick saluting like a good little soldier? Yes, yes he was.
Okay, so maybe I’ve found other men attractive. Yes, even my goofy ass knows when a guy is hot. But I haven’t had a physical reaction to another man in for-e-ver.
Porn doesn’t count.
How is this even possible? Lolly just casually waltzed into the pharmacy after two years and single-handedly turned my world upside down.
My cock is a traitorous bastard. As soon as his fingers brushed mine, my dick resurrected from his months-long slumber. Wide awake and ready to reintroduce himself to a dude. Again.
The fuck?
There’s just something about him. Something warm, inviting. New sun in the spring, just enough to brighten your day without making you miserable.
I loathe being hot.
Ball sweat is disgusting.
Holy shit. Lolly was in the pharmacy.
I’d been in the back watching trash reels on my phone when I heard him clear his throat at the register.
I remember how my cheeks had warmed in embarrassment when we made eye contact. In true Lolly fashion, he managed to pull the breath straight from my lungs.
Still the most devastatingly beautiful person that I’ve ever laid eyes on. Fucking otherworldly.
He seemed taller than I remember, shoulders broader now.
Hair cut short, absolutely rocking a black mesh shirt and dark relaxed-fit jeans that hung low on his hips, accentuating his obliques.
My cheeks get even warmer as I remember how difficult it was to keep my eyes from wandering toward his pierced nipples.
I wonder when he got those? He has a hoop in his septum now, too.
Fuck, that shit looks good on him.
And those nails!?
How does he pull off perfectly manicured nails too?
Wholly unfair.
And now my dick is officially wondering if he got anything else pierced.
His umber skin had glowed in the light of the storefront, those unforgettable gold flecks in his eyes dancing, teasing me.
And those fucking lips.
Those same lips that I’ve tasted.
Worshipped.
Oh, and furthermore, I’m not sure if my unhinged ass had just imagined it or if he did, in fact, have a tongue ring. I could have sworn I saw a glint of it.
Damnit, Bailey, what are you doing? You have lost your fucking mind.
Had I been too awkward?
Probably.
Did I embarrass myself?
Absolutely.
He said he would see me again. Did he say he was looking forward to it? I play the conversation back in my mind, for the hundredth time, blushing when I get to the part where he told me it had been a pleasant surprise.
God, I am such a mess. It’s not like I’ll ever see him again, right?
Why do I sound like a nervous schoolgirl right now?
Liam would die. He would most literally just die right here laughing his fucking ass off.
I’ve never been so appreciative of the on-call phone not ringing during a shift because holy fuck, there’s no way I would be worth a damn in an urgent situation. My frontal cortex left the building with him.
I force myself to move my feet, realizing I’ve been standing in the exact same place I’d been when he strolled out of here, perfect ass on display like the universe was fucking with me.
I hurry to the staff bathroom, flip the light switch on and turn to look at myself in the clouded mirror. My hair is disheveled, cheeks still rosy and my eyes wide with uncertainty. I yank the faucet to the left, in desperate need of some cold water to help my feet find Earth again.
I eagerly splash my face.
Better.
That’s better.
I look up at myself again and let some bizarre mixture of a scoff and a giggle slip through my lips.
I am so out of my element here.
Thank fuck I at least remembered to ask for the patient’s name and date of birth.
I definitely skipped the vital parts about what the medication was for, how many to take, and how often to take it.
I didn’t even ask if he had any questions about the prescription, just panicked and stood there like a deer caught in headlights.
Sexy headlights.
This is dangerous.
Chaotic.
I’m a pharmacist. A fucking professional—and I couldn’t even form comprehensible words.
Okay, Bailey, get your shit together.
I feel like it’s reasonably safe to assume that the entire encounter had been one-sided, me being the only man in the room with a raging hard-on and an existential crisis.
I wave my hand in front of the paper towel dispenser.
Thrice.
This thing has always been a spicy douche, pretending it didn’t see my hand the first two times. I pat my face dry, risking one last look in the mirror before I head back to the work room.
I glance at my phone again, relieved to see that I only have a few more hours before my shift ends.
I can’t focus. My mind refuses to show me anything but pierced, sexy, older Lolly.
Lolly with his arms crossed.
Lolly leaning over the counter.
Lolly with his lips around my dick.
Stop it, Bailey.
Okay.
Coffee.
Make a cup of coffee.
And make sure it’s not decaf, jackass.
I sit down with a fresh cup of coffee and try an audiobook. The narrator is speaking but all I can hear are sharp inhales and ragged breaths. All I can see is him.
This is a lost cause.
I pause the audiobook and begin closing out our task box in preparation for handoff, doing my best to not fuck anything up despite my mind going offline every few seconds.
That brilliant, enigmatic man. Brandishing a fucking gravitational field around him like a weapon. Pulling at something in me I’ve forgotten existed.
I could get lost in him so quickly.
The air in the building had shifted when I was finally within arm’s reach of him. When his scent hit my nose and then tethered itself around my heart.
He’s intoxicating.
I should have backed away, been more professional, pragmatic even. Not a blubbering mooseknuckle with the charisma of a fucking doorknob.
Over the years I’ve met others who have an air about them, but none came close to him. To a presence that commands both my attention and the oxygen with which I should have been breathing.
The esoteric being that stood before me earlier tonight, in this very room, altered my cognitive and sensorial awareness in a way that only he can. My skin is still humming. Some fucked up mixture of excitement, fear, and uncertainty cascades across every fiber of my being.
And there it goes. My last mechanism of defense—my stupid, stupid brain.
My prefrontal cortex has left the chat.
I am just a brainstem.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Inhale, exhale.
I have been reduced to a jellyfish.
Maybe a sponge.
This sponge is in deep shit and I know good and goddamn well that it might be a while before the rest of my brain decides to show up.
By some miracle, I complete all the dispensing orders for the evening and log the controlled substances before closing for the night. I fumble with my keys as I reach the entrance to the pharmacy, my hands now awkwardly disembodied. So suave, Bays.
I slowly head to my car, eyes heavy with the need to get horizontal.
I immediately turn the volume knob left and silently scorn the little bastard for the earlier scare. I click the seatbelt into place and adjust the shoulder strap to where it’s not touching my skin. Yuck.
I drive in silence. Replaying our conversation on loop. Enjoying the seat warmer on my eighty-year-old back.
“Damnit,” I grumble as the front door keypad flashes red lights, mocking my tired ass.
Slow down, butter fingers.
I laugh at myself as the damn thing finally unlocks.
I flip the lights on and sigh in relief. The silence sometimes feels like a sanctuary. Other times, a mausoleum.
Fuck, I need to talk to Liam. This is insane. No fucking way Lolly just appeared like that.
Me: You up?
My stomach knots as I pace around the living room, phone in hand. Knuckles white as I grip the poor thing like my life depends on it.
I check it again.
Nothing.
Okay, Bays. Get a drink and sit the fuck down. You’re freaking out.
I toss my work bag onto the kitchen counter and grab a fizzy water from the fridge, counting the cans I have left.
The delicious sound of the carbonation sputtering to life still makes me want a fucking beer.
They say it eventually gets easier, but no one has been able to tell me when.
I generally get a vague answer with more riddles like, “don’t leave before the miracle happens. ”
I roll my eyes.
I check the phone again then force myself to empty the dishwasher, strolling past three open cabinet doors deciding they can be a problem for Tomorrow Bailey.
“Shit,” I wince as my elbow catches the wall. The longer I go without sleep, the lower my IQ, and worse my clumsiness. Tonight is no exception.
I barrel through my bedroom door and toss my clothes on the floor. The shower knob is still wet from last night, making me recoil in disgust.
“Ew.”
Making sure I have both of my towels ready and within reach, I brave the cold, wet knob, one more fucking time, and manage to successfully defeat the slimy bastard.
Reaching for my soap I freeze when a flash of brown eyes and a brilliant smile steal my breath.
A memory, a moment, a revelation.
Oliver.
Lolly.
More familiar than an ex— like we knew each other in a past life.
Some weird ass soul recognition.
Is that a thing?
I’m back in the pharmacy.
Blindsided.
Vulnerable.
How does he do that?
He sees me. Sees the real me and doesn’t shy away. Just nonchalantly examines and recognizes something in me.
And I think I see him too.
A blip in time that left me fragmented in its wake.
But he didn’t shy away. Instead, he leaned in, a promise of another day leaving his lips.
I absentmindedly bring my fingers to my mouth, pausing in reverence as I allow myself to feel.
To feel him.
To feel everything.
My face heats and my breaths hitch as I slowly trace my fingers across my lips. A trail of heat burns in their wake as my hand travels of its own accord.
Fingers caress my throat as I close my eyes, ignoring the guilt and shame my mind threatens to throw at me.
Fuck that.
My breathing deepens as my hand falls to my peaked nipples, my chest rising and falling to an unprecedented rhythm. I squeeze gently, tracing my fingers in circles before I pinch harder, earning a sharpened breath from my reticent lips.
“Fuck,” I whisper.
Those eyes.
I can’t escape those eyes.
My hand continues its journey south, slowly tracing across my abdomen and then gripping my fully hard length.
Lolly.
His name haunts me as his bewitching grin grows roots in my mind’s eye, burrowing until it settles, somehow aware that he was welcome all along.
I lengthen my strokes, increasing my speed as I give myself permission to want.
Permission to need.
It’s been so damn long.
The euphoric symphony is live and he is my conductor. He orchestrates the tempo. Demands the volume and dynamics of my undoing.
“Oh fuck,” I whimper, eyes squeezing shut as the pleasure wraps me in its embrace.
I want to stay here forever.
With him. Ascending.
My maestro, my Lolly.
I come undone, ripping at the seams.
I force my eyes open and watch, captivated, as streams of hot liquid spew from my crown.
I don’t stop until I’ve milked every fucking drop.
My peripheral vision darkens as I lean against the shower wall, panting ragged breaths as I descend.
I stumble to bed, close my eyes, and am again left with nothing but thoughts of Lolly.
Lolly smiling.
His fingers brushing mine.
I pull the feather out in the darkness, twisting it between my fingers as I smile. I’ve missed him. I’ve missed him so fucking much it hurts.