14. Power Over Me – Dakota
14
POWER OVER ME
DAKOTA
A s Lauren and I step out of the diner, the night air hits us, cool and crisp. The neon sign above the diner flickers, casting an intermittent red glow over the cracked sidewalk. In the distance, I can hear the faint wail of a siren, a reminder of the city that never truly sleeps.
Our hands find each other almost instinctively, fingers interlocking as we walk. The streets are surprisingly quiet for LA, with only the occasional car passing by, its headlights briefly illuminating our path before plunging us back into the soft darkness. Overhead, the moon peeks out from behind wispy clouds, a silent observer of our midnight stroll.
As we pass under a streetlight, I catch a glimpse of Lauren's profile - the curve of her cheek, the slight upturn of her lips. My heart pounds in my chest, a steady rhythm of anticipation and nerves that seem to echo off the buildings around us.
We pass a closed storefront, its windows dark and reflective. For a moment, I see our silhouettes mirrored back at us - two figures, close together, moving in sync. It strikes me how natural this feels, how right, despite the newness of it all.
As we approach Lauren's car, the only one left in the small parking lot besides mine, gravel crunches under our feet. The sound seems amplified in the quiet night, as if the universe is holding its breath, waiting to see what happens next.
"I had a really good time tonight," Lauren says softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
I squeeze her hand gently. "Me too. I'm glad I waited for you."
She looks up at me, a small smile playing on her lips. "I'm glad you did, too."
We reach her car far too quickly for my liking. Lauren leans against the driver's side door, her eyes meeting mine. In the dim light of the streetlamp, she looks beautiful - tired, yes, but with a spark in her eyes that wasn't there earlier.
"So," I say, suddenly feeling like a teenager on his first date. "I guess this is goodnight."
Lauren nods, but doesn't move to get in her car. "I guess it is."
There's a moment of charged silence between us. I can feel the pull towards her, like gravity. My eyes flick down to her lips, then back up to her eyes. I see the same want reflected there, mixed with a hint of hesitation.
"Lauren," I breathe, stepping closer. "I really want to kiss you right now."
She swallows hard, her fingers tightening around mine. "I would love that."
That's all the invitation I need. I lean in slowly, giving her time to pull away if she changes her mind. But she doesn't. Instead, she tilts her face up to mine.
Our lips meet, and it's like a jolt of electricity through my body. Her lips are soft, warm, and she tastes faintly of the tea she had at the diner. I bring my free hand up to cup her cheek, deepening the kiss. Every nerve ending in my body seems to come alive. I'm hyper-aware of every point of contact between us - her hand on my chest, my fingers tangled in her hair, the slight pressure of her body against mine.
As the kiss intensifies, I feel a warmth spreading from my core to my fingertips. My heart is pounding so hard I'm sure Lauren must feel it. The world around us fades away, and all I can focus on is the softness of her lips, the gentle caress of her breath on my skin, and the intoxicating scent that's uniquely her.
When we finally pull apart, I feel dizzy, like I've just come off stage after an intense performance. My lips tingle, already missing her touch. I can still feel the ghost of her kiss, the impression of her body against mine. It's been so long since I've felt this alive, this present in my own skin.
"Wow," she says softly, a shy smile on her face.
I can't help but grin. "Yeah. Wow."
I close my eyes for a moment, savoring the sensation. When I open them, I'm met with Lauren's gaze, her hazel eyes wide and bright. There's a softness there that wasn't present earlier in the evening, a vulnerability that makes my heart ache in the best possible way.
Lauren's hand, which had been resting on my chest, slowly slides up to the nape of my neck. Her fingers thread through my hair, sending a shiver down my spine. I watch as she bites her lower lip, a gesture I'm quickly learning means she's deep in thought.
"Dakota," she whispers, her voice slightly husky. She clears her throat and tries again. "Dakota, I... this is..."
I can see the conflict playing out on her face - the desire, the hesitation, the hope, and the fear all warring for dominance. Her eyes flick down to my lips and then back up, and I feel her lean in almost imperceptibly.
But then she takes a small step back, her hand falling from my neck to rest on my arm. She doesn't let go completely, though, her grip tightening slightly as if she's anchoring herself.
"This is nice," she finally says, a small, hesitant smile tugging at her lips. "Really nice. But also..."
"Scary?" I offer, and I see relief flood her features.
"Yeah," she nods, letting out a breath. "Scary."
I watch as she squares her shoulders, a determined look settling over her face. It's the same look I saw when she talked about going back to school, about making a difference. It makes me want to know every facet of her, to understand all the layers that make up Lauren.
"But maybe," she continues, her voice stronger now, "maybe scary isn't always bad?"
The hope in her voice, the tentative optimism in her eyes - it's almost too much. I want to pull her close again, to promise her the world. Instead, I settle for bringing her hand to my lips and placing a gentle kiss on her knuckles.
"No," I agree, my voice rough with emotion. "Sometimes scary can be pretty damn amazing."
The smile that breaks across her face is radiant, lighting up the entire parking lot. As she leans in for another kiss, I can feel her smile against my lips, and can sense the mix of excitement and nervousness in the way her body trembles slightly against mine.
At this moment, I'm acutely aware of every little reaction, every small gesture. And I know, without a doubt, that I'm not alone in falling hard and fast.
We break the kiss, my forehead resting against Lauren's, and a realization hits me. For the first time in what feels like forever, I haven't thought about drinking all evening. The usual gnawing need, the constant battle against cravings - it's all been quiet.
I take a deep breath, inhaling her scent, and it dawns on me that she's become a different kind of intoxication. Her presence, her smile, the way she sees me - it's all more potent than any alcohol I've ever tasted.
“You okay?” Lauren asks, noticing my sudden thoughtfulness.
I pull back slightly, meeting her concerned gaze. “Yeah, I'm... I'm great, actually. I just realized something.”
“What's that?” she asks, her hand still resting on my chest.
I hesitate for a moment, not wanting to burden her with the weight of my addiction. But her eyes are open, patient, and I find myself wanting to share this moment with her.
“Being with you... it's the first time in a long time that I haven't felt the need to drink. You make me forget about all that. In a good way.”
Lauren's eyes widen slightly, and I see a mix of emotions flash across her face - surprise, concern, and something that looks a lot like hope.
“Dakota,” she says softly, “that's... I'm glad. But I don't want you to feel like you have to rely on me for that. Your sobriety is your journey.”
Her words, gentle but firm, remind me why I'm drawn to her. She doesn't try to fix me or take on my battles. She just... sees me.
“I know,” I assure her. “And I'm not putting that on you. I just... I wanted you to know that you have a positive effect on me. More than you realize."
We stand there for a moment, neither of us wanting to break the spell. But reality starts to creep back in, and I see Lauren glance at her watch.
"I should go," she says reluctantly. "Roman..."
I nod, understanding. "Of course. Can I see you again soon?"
Lauren smiles, and it's like the sun coming out. "I'd like that."
As I watch Lauren input her number into my phone, a thought hits me like a freight train. The tour. It's looming on the horizon, just weeks away. The excitement I've felt about it suddenly mixes with a new kind of anxiety.
“Lauren,” I start, my voice hesitant. She looks up, her eyes questioning. “I should probably tell you. The band, we're going on tour soon. For a few months.”
I see a flicker of something - disappointment? Concern? - cross her face before she schools her features into a neutral expression. “Oh,” she says softly. “When do you leave?”
“A few weeks,” I reply, hating how final it sounds. “I don't want this to end before it's even had a chance to start.”
Lauren's quiet for a moment, and I can almost see the gears turning in her head. “It doesn't have to,” she says finally. “I mean, if you don't want it to. We’ll see where this goes in the next few weeks. And then, well, there's always phone calls and FaceTime, right?”
Her attempt at optimism warms my heart, but I can't help but think of the realities of tour life. The late nights, the constant travel, the temptations... And Lauren has Roman to think about. How fair would it be to ask her to wait around for me?
“Yeah,” I say, trying to match her tone. “We'll figure it out.”
But as I lean in for another kiss, I can't shake the feeling that we're on borrowed time. The road has always been my home, my escape. Now, for the first time, I'm not sure I want to leave.
I push the thought aside, determined to live in this moment. But I know it's a conversation we'll need to have sooner rather than later. For now, though, I just want to savor this - the feel of Lauren in my arms, the promise of something new and beautiful, even if it might be fleeting.
As I watch Lauren drive away, a wave of conflicting emotions washes over me. The euphoria of the kiss is still coursing through my veins, but it's tinged with a familiar fear that creeps in at the edges.
I haven't felt this way since Chloe. The rush, the excitement, the potential for something real and beautiful. But with that comes the memory of loss, the pain that nearly destroyed me when she died. Am I ready to open myself up to that possibility again?
Lauren is different from Chloe in so many ways, yet there's a similar warmth, a kindness that draws me in. But where my relationship with Chloe felt like a whirlwind romance from the start, this thing with Lauren feels more grounded, more real somehow. Maybe it's because we've both been through so much, or maybe it's just the wisdom that comes with age and experience.
Part of me wants to run, to protect myself from the potential heartbreak. It would be easier to lose myself in the music, in the tour, in the familiar routines of the band.
Safer.
But another part of me, a part that's been dormant for too long, wants to dive in headfirst. To see where this could go, to allow myself to feel deeply again, even if it means risking pain.
As I stand here in the empty parking lot, the ghost of Lauren's kiss still on my lips, I realize I'm at a crossroads. The path of safety, of emotional distance, lies one way. The path of vulnerability, of potential joy and pain, lies the other.
And for the first time in years, I find myself wanting to take the risk.
I just hope I don't fucking screw this up.
I step into the apartment, the familiar scent of Connor's attempts at cooking filling the air. My roommate's head pops out from the kitchen, a grin on his face.
"Hey man, you're home late. I made... well, I'm not sure what I made, but it's edible. Want some?"
I chuckle, shaking my head. "Thanks, but I think I'll pass. I grabbed a bite at Sunny's."
Connor's eyebrows shoot up. "The diner? Dude, they closed hours ago."
"Yeah, I know. I was... talking to someone."
Connor's eyes narrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Talking to someone, huh? Would this someone happen to be a certain waitress you've been mentioning a lot lately?"
I feel a flush creep up my neck. "Her name's Lauren, and yeah. We were just talking."
"Just talking," Connor repeats, his tone teasing. Then his expression softens. "That's great, man. Really. It's good to see you putting yourself out there again."
I nod, grateful for his support. Connor's been with me through it all - Chloe's death, my struggle with alcohol, and now my sobriety.
"She's... she's something else, Con," I admit, settling onto the couch. "Smart, funny, resilient as hell. She's got a kid, you know? A little boy. And she's applying to nursing school."
Connor whistles, joining me in the living room with his mystery meal. "Sounds like she's got her hands full. You sure you're ready for all that?"
It's a fair question. One I've been asking myself a lot lately.
"I don't know," I say honestly. "But I want to find out. For the first time since Chloe... I want to try."
Connor nods, his expression serious. "And the sobriety thing? You've told her about that, right?"
"I did," I admit. " I want to be upfront about everything."
"Good," Connor says. "You've worked hard to get where you are. She should know that."
I'm quiet for a moment, thinking about how far I've come. "Sometimes I can hardly believe it myself. Potentially dating again... it's a lot."
Connor reaches over to clap me on the shoulder. "You've got this, man. And you know I've got your back, right? Whatever you do."
"I know," I say, grateful for his unwavering support. "Thanks, man."
"So," Connor says, a mischievous glint in his eye. "When are you gonna ask her out? For real, I mean. Not just late-night diner talks."
I run a hand through my hair, suddenly nervous. "I don't know. Soon, I hope. If she's interested."
Connor snorts. "Dude, she stayed hours after her shift to talk to you. I'd say she's interested."
I can't help but smile at that. "Maybe you're right."
"Of course I'm right," Connor says, taking a bite of his creation and immediately grimacing. "About Lauren, at least. Definitely not about my cooking skills."
As we laugh and Connor dramatically throws his meal in the trash, I find my mind drifting back to Lauren. To her laugh, her resilience, the way her eyes light up when she talks about her son.
For the first time in a long time, I feel a spark of excitement for the future. A future that, just maybe, could include Lauren.
It's terrifying. It's exhilarating. And I can't wait to see where it leads.