Fourteen
I fucked up. I’d promised Lissa, when I asked for Camille’s number, that I wouldn’t fucking hurt her, and yet I’d messed up already. Should I just tell her why I’m being so fucking distant, and pathetic? Would she even understand?
I discovered something that didn’t surprise me though. Ice still hated being woken up at crazy times of the night. He’d wrenched his door open looking ready to kill me, but after my quiet explanation, he’d nodded, disappeared, and returned with a piece of paper; her address. He’d found it as part of his background check that he did before she started working for Lissa.
Getting to her place was the next challenge. Technically it was walking distance, but I didn’t want to get there sweaty as fuck, and I also couldn’t get on my damn bike, because of my affliction. In the end, I’d grabbed a prospect, and demanded a lift. As a prospect, he didn’t question me, or why I wasn’t riding wherever I was going, just did as I asked.
I made him leave me there, and wasn’t that a dumbfuck move? She’d invited me and I’d rejected her, without even meaning to, and hurt her. The chances of her even letting me in were… well, fewer than the number of fucking balls I had left.
I sat down on her doorstep, and leaned back against the planter sitting there. I was the biggest asshole in the world, and now here I was, stranded on some girl’s fucking porch, because I was suddenly too much of a pussy to even knock on the damn door.
I don’t know how long I fucking sat there, cursing myself, my condition, my lack of balls, metaphorically, and literally, and talked myself out of knocking on the door a dozen times.
I’d almost fallen asleep in that hunched position, when a noise behind the door caught my attention, and as I glanced up, a light flicked on in the room to the right of the door. Getting up and peering in her window was a mistake though, because she screamed the place down, and I backed up fast, tripping over another one of those damn planters.
So when that gorgeous woman opened her door, and stared out at me, I was on my ass on the ground, with half a plant draped over me.
She opened her mouth to say something, but instead what came out was a giggle. I felt my lips twitch, and shoved the plant aside, struggling to my feet. I was gonna have a bruise the size of my ass on my ass, and it hurt like a bitch.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t laugh.” She laughed some more after saying that, and fuck me, she was even more stunning.
“I’m sorry too.” I stepped up to the front porch, but didn’t move onto the step in case she didn’t want me there.
“For scaring the crap out of me, or breaking my poor acer tree?” I glanced at the plant that had attacked me in defence of the woman I’d terrified.
“It put up a good fight.”
She giggled again. I smoothed my hair back, and wriggled, because something was tickling my back.
“I’m sorry for hurting you, Camille. I was, I mean, I am uh, dealing with some shit right now, and it means I’m not a good person to get interested in.”
She stared up and down the street then back at me.
“It’s almost four in the morning, and you... did you walk here? How the hell did you get my address?”
I reached back and adjusted my cut, because something was inside my clothes, and it was irritating me. I pulled at my shirt next, and a handful of dry dirt dropped out of it. I heard another of those sweet giggles from Camille, and fuck me, I wanted her to make that sound constantly.
“Why don’t you come in for a minute, as long as you’re not going to trail mud everywhere.”
I shook my clothes thoroughly and checked my boots, and then followed her in. The place was nice. Small, and tidy, with lots of colourful touches around, like a throw over the small sofa, and pictures on the walls that were more like abstract art.
“Nice place.”
She shrugged, and headed for the kitchen, so I followed her.
“Oh… do I need to take off my boots?”
She looked at me, as she reached into a cupboard.
“Depends. Are you staying more than a few minutes?”
Isn’t that the question… “Am I? I’d like to stay and chat a while, but, hell, you need your sleep.”
“Are you saying I look tired?”
I ran my hand through my hair, feeling like a complete prick. Didn’t I used to be able to talk to women?
“I’m fucking this up too. I’m sorry, Camille, I shouldn’t have come.” I turned and headed for the door, but she caught my arm, and I let her stop me. She moved in front of me.
“I’m not being clear, Stitch. I’d like you to stay a while, so can you kick off your boots and sit the fuck down?”
I felt a grin cross my face.
“Yes, ma’am, I can do that.”
She fussed in the kitchen for a few minutes while I made myself comfortable, and returned with two coffees. She passed one to me as she sat beside me on her small sofa. It was small enough that we were sitting fairly close to each other.
“I was a dick on the phone, I’m sorry.”
She tucked her legs under her, and turned to face me.
“You were, but I’ve decided, very magnanimously, that you’re forgiven on account of the mind-blowing orgasm you gave me first.”
Her cheeks were a little pink, and she lowered her head.
“Wow, I just sound like a cheap whore sometimes. I just… I think you woke up my inner sex kitten, Stitch.”
Fuck yeah. I reached out and eased her chin up.
“You’re all sex kitten, Camille. It’s why you had me so fucking hard on the phone. I wanted to be here, but I’m, fuck, I’m sick… I shouldn’t burden you with this shit.”
Her frown was kinda cute, like a little wrinkle which also reached her nose.
“Sick? Like kinky sick? That’s okay, Stitch, I’m open to that.” She chewed at her lip, and I wondered why the fuck I had to meet her after I lost my fucking life.
“That’s not the kind of sick I mean, Camille. I mean the kind of sick that means I might be gone soon.” Fuck me, the words made me feel ill, like there was a rock in my stomach. How cruel was life that I’d be dying before I found the woman who woke up my fucking heart like this?
Cammy
T he poor guy looked like he’d just been told he was dying, and he was still trying to absorb what that meant for him. I threw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck, and after a brief pause, he returned the favour, squeezing me tight against him.
He buried his face into my neck and his breath sort of rushed out of him, and then it hitched. Oh the poor poor man. I cupped the back of his neck, and rubbed his back as I let him get over the emotion that was clearly eating him up inside.
I could practically feel him fighting it back, to try and compose himself, and even with the tension holding him firm, I could definitely feel a slight trembling as he held me close.
“It’s going to be okay, Stitch.”
Another gasped breath, and I felt him shaking his head, his hair tickling my neck as he moved.
“It won’t.” His words were so quiet I almost missed them.
I pulled back, and cupped his face in both hands, kissing him gently. He kept his eyes closed, like he couldn’t face me after he’d opened up even that small amount.
“Stitch, don’t hide from me, please. I know we don’t really know each other, but that could change. Let me be here for you.”
He took another ragged breath, and his head dropped slightly, like he was worn out from trying to be strong, while he was so afraid.
“Stitch, I’m not Lissa, but I can still help you. I can be the person you relax with.”
He let out a groan, his eyes finally opening. They were slightly wet, and anguished, and he grimaced, rubbing the back of his hand over them.
“One of the worst things is all the shit I know I won’t ever get to do. You know… like a bucket list. I didn’t realise how much I thought I’d do in my life, and now if it’s just weeks or months, I feel like I fucked myself over by not doing more of it. I guess I always thought there would be time.”
Weeks or months? How horrible to have your life reduced to that, and to know it was coming. I wanted to cry for him.
“Hey, don’t do that.” I swallowed and met his eyes again.
“What?”
“Don’t go crying for me. I’m nobody, I’m just some guy passing through your life, and I’ll be gone soon, then you can forget me, and find someone who’s actually worthy of you. That’s not me, darlin’, I’m not that guy.”
I swallowed down my arguments, because I knew he was bullshitting me, but I also knew that now wasn’t the time to push him.
“Tell me some of the stuff you wanted to do.”
“Huh?”
“Bucket list stuff. If talking a girl through an epic orgasm on the phone was on there, you can firmly cross that off, or, actually… no… leave it on. I want you to do that again… maybe often.”
He grinned, and I felt some of the weight lift from my shoulders, because if I could wipe the pain from his soul for even a few minutes, I wanted that. That was now on MY bucket list.
“Noted. I think doing that to you on a video call is on the list too, just so you know.”
“You’d have to get yourself off too… if we’re doing your bucket list, I want to do mine too.”
He gripped my chin, and stared into my eyes.
“You got a timer hanging over you too, woman?”
“No… well, yes… we all have a damn timer hanging over us. So let’s do some fun stuff, and enjoy our time together. ”
He released my face, and dug out his phone.
“I’m making my list right now, and you’re gonna do the same. Whatever we have on our lists, let’s fucking do them. All of them.”
“What if one of mine is something really bad?”
“Who says mine aren’t? Get on with it, Camille. Get your damn list started, we’re kinda on a clock here, remember?”
I got up and grabbed my phone, and then we both sat and quietly tapped away at our screens, as we made our lists. It was intense, and scary, and heartbreaking all at once, but I knew if Stitch had limited time, that I wanted as much of it as possible. And all of the naughty things on my list were because of him, and him only.