9. Zoe
NINE
zoe
“First things first, Pat O’Brien’s.”
We’d checked into our hotel—in a damned good location for basically pennies, courtesy of Charlee’s father, who had a network of resort and hotel connections—and stepped onto the street. Charlee had been here before, but Natalie was a NOLA virgin, so I was pretty excited to show her around. Not that I was an expert by any means, but I’d spent some time here with a friend I’d met freshman year at Penn State who was from Metairie. I instantly fell in love with the convergence of cultures—the music, the food, the Quarter. The city was in my soul.
“It doesn’t get more touristy,” I admitted. “And there are better Hurricanes in other spots, but there’s something about this place.” As we began to walk, I quickly got my bearings. “This way.”
“Do you hear that?” Natalie asked. “Jazz coming from down the street.”
“The street music is one of my favorite things about the French Quarter,” I said.
“Agreed. I didn’t even think I liked jazz until I was here. What was the name of that place we went to that I loved?” she asked me.
“Preservation Hall,” I said, stopping at the corner. Admitting defeat, I took out my phone to navigate and got us there in less than ten minutes. Just like I remembered. A quaint outdoor courtyard serving their famous Hurricanes was strangely like coming home to me.
“I think I must have lived here in a past life,” I said, sidling up to the bar.
“In your past life, did they have a bathroom here?” Natalie asked.
Laughing, I pointed her to the inside bar. By the time the three of us sat by the fountain in the middle of the courtyard, Hurricanes in hand, we were giggling like schoolgirls just let out for the summer. A warm day, girls’ weekend ahead of us, and our first Hurricanes in hand.
Could it get any better?
My back pocket buzzed.
Yes, indeed, it could.
What’s shakin’ Zoe girl?
I put the iconic tall, see-through glass with its iconic orange garnish back on the table. Taking a picture, I sent it off to Nate.
“Wonder who she’s texting?” Charlee teased.
By now, the ladies knew everything. Well, not quite everything. They knew Nate and I had been texting nonstop. And I may have mentioned some of those texts had gotten hot and heavy, but I certainly didn’t get into specifics.
Suffice it to say, we’d been getting to know more about each other than just our favorite colors and movies, although we chatted about that stuff too.
In your glory?
You know it.
And then, nothing. I still hadn’t quite gotten used to the strange cadence of his messages. The man was a fricking spotter in an active US Army combat zone, I reminded myself. And here I was kicking back on a sunny day in The Big Easy with my drink. It almost made me feel a little guilty. But when I’d confessed that to Nate the other day, he’d brushed me off.
“I signed up for this,” he said. “Part of the job. And I am glad to do it.”
That was only one of the things I liked about him. I was no stranger to the sacrifices our military, and their families, made, but it was impressive nonetheless.
“Are you going to be tethered to that thing all weekend?” Charlee asked.
I put the phone on the table. “Definitely not.”
“Well, if you are. . .” She winked at me. “We don’t mind. Right, Nat? This is Operation Distraction, after all, so if you’re not thinking of Erik, we’re happy.”
Best. Friends. Ever.
“Exactly,” Natalie said. “But since you are our tour guide, you better tell Nate he has to share you for a few days.”
“He’s so hit-or-miss,” I said. “It’s rare he gets a huge chunk of time to chat anyway.”
“Speaking of chatting, have you done anything more than text? Call? Video call?”
“Almost,” I said. “He was actually going to call me this week, but things got a little crazy, so he never had the chance. He said the next opportunity he could get to call, he would.”
“That’ll be cool to actually hear his voice, yes?” Natalie asked, her Hurricane suspiciously emptying rather quickly.
“Really cool,” I agreed. “But you might want to take it easy. These things are potent.”
“Take it easy? In The Big Easy?” Nat, for someone so outwardly mild-mannered, had a wild streak that rivaled Charlee and me put together.
With that, Natalie led a too-quick downing of our first Hurricanes, which was how we found ourselves with number two so quickly. Halfway into that one, I was just about to suggest we grab a bite to eat when my phone rang. I picked it up and nearly dropped it back down.
“Holy shit. It’s Nate. Calling.”
“Well.” Charlee gestured toward the phone. “Answer it.”
“Right,” I said, as if taking momentary leave of my senses. I did, immediately walking to a more private area of the courtyard. “Hello?”
For a second, all I could hear was what sounded like a helicopter or plane. “Can you hear me?” he asked.
Holy hell on a cracker. His voice. It was so deep. And sexy.
“I can,” I said. “Hi, Nate.”
“Hi, Zoe girl.”
My heart skipped a beat.
“Sorry to interrupt your girls’ trip, but I had an opportunity to call so—”
“Are you kidding? I’m thrilled you did. The girls will understand.”
“It’s good to hear your voice.”
“Same.”
“How’s that Hurricane?”
“Hurricanes, plural.”
“Whoa, you ladies don’t mess around. Those things are strong.”
“Tell me about it. I’m already buzzed off one and a half of them.”
“Really?” he asked, his voice suggestive.
“Really,” I said, smiling. Looking over at Charlee and Nat, I gave them the thumbs up.
“So what is Zoe girl like when she’s drinking?”
“Oh, that’s easy. I’m a fun drunk.”
“Yeah?” His tone was unmistakably flirtatious.
“Yeah,” I said. “You?”
“Same.”
“Good to know. I’m not a fan of mean drunks.”
He laughed. Was it me, or did he have the best laugh in the world?
“Most people aren’t. So, fun drunk, huh?” he asked.
“Yep.”
“How fun?”
“Very fun.”
“Prove it.”
I didn’t hesitate. “How?”
“Find the ladies’ room.”
An odd request. I held up my hand to the girls, gesturing that I’d be right back. Doing what Nate said, I made my way to the ladies’ room.
“Okay, now what?”
“Now I want you to think of me,” he said in the deepest fucking voice on the planet, “in there with you, tossing you up against the wall and pinning your hands above your head.”
“Oh God.” As I pictured Nate and listened to his words, I wished there were somewhere more sanitary to sit down. “You’re actually making my knees weak.”
“Good. I want to make your pussy wet too.”
“Pretty sure that’s mission accomplished.”
“Pretty sure? Why don’t you find out? What are you wearing?”
“A sundress,” I said, swallowing.
“Show me.”
Nate had only been able to send one pic all week, but it had been a doozy. He’d been in the middle of a workout, his sleeveless tee showing a very nice pair of muscled arms. I, on the other hand, was becoming fairly proficient at selfies.
And had an idea.
Instead of taking a pic immediately, I reached under my sundress, pushed my thong aside to discover I was indeed soaking wet, then took a pic and sent it.
“Fuck,” he said. “You sexy fucking girl you.”
Why was that such a turn on?
“Pretend those are my fingers, Zoe,” he said. “Working your clit endlessly. Up against the wall, your hands still held together. Close your eyes. Can you see it?”
“I can,” I moaned.
“Now, don’t you fucking dare hold back. I want to hear the sounds you make when you come for me. And you will come for me, won’t you, Zoe?”
“Yes,” I managed, moving my finger and my thumb just right. “I will.”
“You better.”
“Mmm, I love when you talk dirty, Nate.”
“Oh yeah? In that case, you fucking better come for me right now. Come on, Zoe. Fucking come for me.”
“Oh God.”
“No, Zoe. Say my name. Call my name.”
I was getting so close. “Nate,” I said. “Nate,” I said again. “I’m gonna come.”
“Mmmm.” He made a guttural sound deep in his throat. “There you go. Just like that. Come on, Zoe girl. Come for me.”
I did.
Moaning, nearly forgetting I was in a public restroom, I came. As easily as I ever had before, which was absolutely absurd given the circumstances.
“Holy shit, Nate.” I pulled my hand out, washed and dried it, then took a deep breath. “I can’t believe how easily I came.”
“For me.”
“For you.”
“Good,” he said. “Timing is just right too. Gotta jump. But. . .” He paused. “Welcome to New Orleans. I hope your trip is off to a good start.”
“Understatement,” I said. When Nate had to jump, he didn’t have time to chitchat. “Talk later.”
“Later, Zoe girl.”
And just as quickly as he came, Nate was gone. Leaving me to wonder what in the hell just happened. Had he really made me come in the middle of Pat O’Brien’s in my first hour in New Orleans?
Why, yes, he had.
That voice though.
Finally gathering myself, I managed to walk back to the girls as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. No way I was going to tell them what had just transpired.
“Looks like Operation Distraction is working,” Charlee said when she saw me.
“Oh, it’s working all right.”
“Erik who?” Natalie asked.
I shuddered at the name. I hadn’t thought of him, didn’t want to think of him, and was pretty sure that chapter of my life was well and truly over.
Erik was my past.
And maybe, just maybe, Nate was my future.