Chapter 7
I busked outside the hotel for the next two days, which turned out to be an amazing spot for good tips, but I did not go back inside to see her. I needed to process what was happening, and I could not think straight around her, her sweet brother, her sarcasm, and her thick thighs. Fuck. I conjured up the image of her thighs that was now branded in my brain. I used to think a toned body was what I was most attracted to, but I had been so wrong. Jessa’s thighs had rubbed against each other as she walked in front of me, making her way back to her bed. And when she sat down, they squished, widening on the sides slightly. I would hold onto them so tight as I fucked her, I thought. Now I was hard. I didn’t even try to fight it.
I knew she didn’t believe me when I said there was a program that had given her a free hotel room. She was too smart for that, but she also thought I lived in my van out of necessity, so I didn’t think she would presume I was behind it. There was so much that she didn’t know, and I hoped it would stay that way.I was cognizant I may have caused some problems for myself in that sense, because I had to use my real credit card for a continuous stay in the hotel. I hadn’t used my card since I had disappeared. The people looking for me would see the charge, and it wouldn’t take them long to track where it had been used, but I figured I would take care of that problem when the day came. For right now, I just wanted to stay focused on my mission. My mission of self-punishment, forcing myself to stay in fighting shape, and being one with my music because that had always been my life’s greatest joy. I realized, with a jolt, that now my mission included one more thing—to keep Jessa and Myles safe, even if that meant keeping them safe from me.
I pulled my beanie lower on my head as snow started falling again. I had finished my last song as the sun began to set in the sky. I gathered up my gear and headed straight to the gym. As I sat in the locker room after my intense workout, I connected my phone to the Wi-Fi for the first time in a week. Messages that could be sent over Wi-Fi flooded in, and as usual, I ignored them all. I had disconnected my actual number, so I assumed all of those texts were going into no man’s land. I went online and ordered a new pick for my guitar since I had misplaced my spare. I also bought more protein bars and then ordered some clothing that had a one-day shipping option. I had to guess their sizes but I thought I did a pretty good job. I had it all delivered to a PO Box under a different name. The picture in my wallet mocked me as I opened it to get my credit card. I couldn’t even look at it like I normally did. My actions showed that I was moving on while my heart screamed for me to stay stuck in my pain as my last way of honoring what no longer was.
The next day, I played by the sports bar near Jessa’s work, hoping she would feel well enough to return. I still couldn’t bring myself to go to her hotel room, but I also wanted to see her face. Hear her voice. Smell her scent.
“Hey, sexy.” I was shaken from my thoughts by the sound of a woman’s voice. I looked up but continued playing my guitar. I nodded politely but didn’t respond. The blonde threw a fifty-dollar bill into my guitar case.
“Thank you,” I murmured. She kept standing there in a way that exuded money and privilege. She was from a world I knew very well and wanted nothing more to do with at the present moment.
“Did you get those muscles from playing your guitar?” She giggled.
“Nope.” I was hoping she’d get the point and leave. She didn’t. I switched to another song, and a few more people gathered around.
“Isn’t he gorgeous?” I heard her say to another girl who was moving slightly to the music. The second girl blushed and shrugged.
“I think he can hear you,” the girl said, moving away.
“I hope he can hear me. I can be even louder if he wants.” The woman winked in my direction.
I grimaced at her innuendo. I figured I knew what she meant, and I had no interest in finding out for sure. I stopped playing and announced that I would be back after lunch. The crowd dispersed, but the blonde stayed.
“I know a place. Do you want to get lunch together?” she asked, following me as I locked my mic into its case.
“No thanks.” I didn’t even look up. I could tell that she wasn’t used to being told no. Yet, to my relief, she actually walked away with a loud humph .
I headed toward the coffee shop, hoping to shake off the gross energy the woman had left in her wake and felt my pulse kick up a bit when I saw Jessa standing outside, in my coat, smoking. Her face lit up when she saw me. I was growing obsessed with how open she was with her feelings. She didn’t give a fuck if you knew that she liked you, was happy, felt sad, or was even enjoying her food. It was such a breath of fresh air, and I respected her confidence so much.
“I guess you’re feeling better.” I gestured to her cigarette. She frowned at it.
“I finally am. And before you say it, I know it’s gross. This is actually my first one since I got sick; I really could have quit.” She snuffed out the cigarette after one more long pull on it.
“Why don’t you?” I leaned against the brick wall, sticking my hands in my pockets.
“I like the endorphins,” she admitted.
“There are other ways to get endorphins,” I told her without thinking. I could see that her mind went directly to sex because she started laughing. I could hear the leftovers of her cough in it. I shifted uncomfortably as I let my thoughts drift to sex as well, and my body became fully aware of how many boosts of endorphins I could give her.
“Aw, is my music man shy?” she teased.
“I’m not your music man,” I replied stiffly. She cocked an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. I was her music man, wasn’t I? I was getting fed up with oscillating between my desire to live in a time capsule and my desire to explore my intense attraction to her. Not only to her voluptuous body but also to the kind of person she was. Or at least the small amount that I had picked up on in the short time I had begun to get to know her. I respected her inquisitive mind, her sharp sense of humor, and her obvious self-confidence.
“How’s Myles?” I asked, changing the subject abruptly, almost as if I was worried she could read my thoughts.
“He’s enjoying living inside.”
I heard her happiness and could see the gratitude swimming in her eyes. I liked that I had put it there.
“I bought some more stash for him because I can keep it locked up in the safe,” she offered. “Oh, we’re baking cookies tonight. You can come bake with us if you’d like.”
I didn’t sense any anger coming off of her as she said it, but I could feel her unasked question of why I never returned since the other night. I shifted uncomfortably.
“What kind of cookies?”
“Chocolate chip.” She was watching me like she was trying to figure me out.
“I’m a bit of a mess,” I blurted out, fidgeting with the guitar pick in my pocket.
“I know.” She grinned with a flash of her dimple. I felt a strong desire to just lay it all at her feet and let her really choose if she still wanted to invite me over to make cookies. She had a way about her that made me feel like she would accept me and my mess with no desire to try to change me. It felt freeing in a way.
“What time will you be baking?” I went back to the previous topic instead of shedding all of my secrets.
“I get off at six today, so when I walk home, we’ll start.” She began to walk back to the door to go into work.
“I’ll drive you,” I called to her.
“Maybe, not my music man.” She left with a tinkle of the bell on the door. I stood there for a moment, watching her return to work. She took off the coat revealing her hair that was gathered in a braid today. I was so happy that she was feeling better that I suddenly felt the urge to follow her in, lean over the counter, and smack a kiss on her full lips. But instead, I turned around and walked away. Not because of the ghosts haunting me this time but because we were nowhere ready for that yet. This was a new feeling for me since usually, my body completely rejected the idea of any form of companionship. I wasn’t sure if that made me happy or if it made me feel like I was abandoning the part of me that was holding onto the past because I thought it was all I had left.
At six p.m., I was waiting outside Kafe, freezing my ass off. I watched through the window as Jessa put her coat back on. I noticed she wasn’t lugging her life around in a backpack anymore, and that little detail warmed my thawing heart. I pulled the door open as she approached it, holding two coffee cups with no covers.
“Careful,” I cautioned. She flashed me a grin as she handed me my cup. I stared dubiously at the whipped cream that had a dash of cinnamon on it.
“I’m not so much of a whipped cream kind of guy.” The coffee was warming my hands.
“Stop being so hot and bothered by everything and take a sip,” she teased me bossily. I rolled my eyes and took a gulp of the hot liquid.
“Hmm.” I made a noncommittal sound and went in for round two. I locked eyes with her as she waited impatiently for me to tell her if I liked it.
“It’s good,” I admitted with a half smirk.
“I told you!” She took a sip of her own drink and ended up with a dollop of whipped cream on her top lip.
“You have a little…” I leaned forward and wiped it off with my finger. We both froze before she interrupted the weird feelings swirling inside of me by saying, “It’s one of my favorites on the menu, it’s a chai tea latte with milk. No water. Then I added in two pumps each of cinnamon dolce syrup and white mocha syrup. After that, I just topped it with whipped cream and cinnamon.”
I let her chatter as we walked toward my van. Had I ever touched her on purpose before? I didn’t think so. I would have remembered the frisson of energy that had run up my arm as my finger passed over her lip. I squeezed my hand into a fist to stop myself from doing it again, this time sans the whipped cream. What was it about this girl that had me in a trance? Up until now, I had done such a good job at keeping my head low and my focus strong. I should be in the gym right now, fucking myself up, preparing for the next fight. I should be writing sad songs and lamenting all I had lost. I definitely should not be opening the van door to let a coffee-and-cinnamon-smelling girl jump in so I could drive her to the hotel room I was paying for to bake cookies. I really shouldn’t be here trying not to watch Jessa’s ass jiggle as she sat down. I quickly turned and firmly shut the door.
Myles turned to look at us from where he sat on the couch when we walked in.
“Oh, hey,” he offered and turned back to the TV.
“He started watching Friends ,” Jessa explained as she opened the fridge.
“I’m up to season two,” Myles interjected.
“I never watched it,” I admitted.
“It’s really funny.” Jessa handed me the eggs that she told me she had bought at Family Dollar. I watched as she went to the small counter by the sink and took flour and chocolate chips out of a shopping bag. I placed the carton on the table and sat down. She had cleaned the metal ice bucket to use as a bowl, but she had gotten cookie pans and a spoon from the dollar store as well. Forty minutes later, we had made a mess, but it was worth it as I was now biting into a hot, gooey cookie. I couldn’t remember the last time I had eaten a cookie, let alone a homemade one.
“Better than sex, for sure.” She moaned around the cookie, her eyes closed as she savored it. I swallowed thickly.
“Then you haven’t been having good enough sex,” I mumbled.
“Hmm?” She opened her eyes and stared at me. I shrugged.
“What did you say?” she demanded.
“He said you haven’t been having good enough sex,” Myles called from the couch again. He seemed surprisingly clearheaded today, and I snickered as she threw him a dirty look.
“Yes, I have,” she protested as she grabbed another cookie.
“Okay, ew.” Myles pretended to throw up over the side of the couch. I looked around the small hotel kitchenette, taking in the scene and trying to calculate what I was feeling. A struggling addict whom I barely knew sat on the couch, laughing as Chandler cracked a witty joke. A beautiful girl stood in front of me, licking melted chocolate chips off of her non-manicured fingers, and the cookies we had baked together warmed my belly. I was feeling joy, I realized. That was not an emotion I was well acquainted with. There were only a few moments in my life I could recall that had given me this feeling of simplistic joy. Joy that wasn’t dependent on anything but living in the moment. Joy that wasn’t due to something I had achieved. This didn’t happen to me very often, and my heart felt funny as it tried to figure out what to make of it.
I helped Jessa clean up the kitchen when I remembered the packages I had picked up from the PO Box earlier and had left by the door when we came in.
“So…” I sounded awkward. “I wasn’t sure what you both needed, so I just picked a few things.” I fiddled with the pick in my pocket to calm my nerves.
“What do you mean?” Jessa was wiping down the counter as I brought over the bag. I shrugged, never having been a man of many words, but especially when I felt awkward. I ripped open the packages and slowly laid the contents on the counter—boxers for Myles, underwear for Jessa, and socks for both of them. Then I took out a set of pajamas, some T-shirts, pants, a sweatshirt, a hat, gloves, and a pair of shoes each. Avoiding eye contact altogether, I emptied the contents of the last box, which was sweatpants for both of them, leggings for Jessa, jeans for Myles, and some toiletries. Myles had paused the show and ambled over to survey my purchases.
“How can a guy living in his van afford to buy all this shit?” he asked, sounding uncharacteristically suspicious. I didn’t blame him one bit.
“I don’t have many bills,” I offered weakly, still not making eye contact with either of them.
“Why?” Jessa waved a hand in the direction of the counter.
“You needed help?” It was supposed to be a statement, but it ended up sounding like a question.
“We’ve always gotten by okay. I don’t want you to think we need handouts.” Her usually sunny disposition was clouded by her pride.
“I know that.” I defended myself. “I’m not doing it because of anything other than I simply wanted to.” I fiddled with the pick again, flipping it through my fingers. “I can return it if you want, but I hope you’ll keep it.” I headed to the door, not waiting for an answer, and let myself out into the quiet hallway.
Back in my van, I texted Beau, asking if he had anyone I could fight. I needed to let this pent-up energy out of me, or it would slowly destroy me from the inside out. I was practically vibrating with it when I pulled up outside the brick building covered in graffiti. Beau ran the monthly fights, but he also trained fighters in his dingy basement gym. The smell of sweat permeated the air as I entered through a side door. Beau was wrapping the hands of one of the fighters while two others sparred in the ring. I nodded at him as he called out in greeting to me.
Ten minutes later, I was shirtless, in the ring, hands wrapped, gloves on, and my focus solely on the man in front of me. We circled each other for a minute, trying to read each other's weaknesses. I noted that he seemed to be favoring his right side, which meant he was off somewhere on his left. He lunged suddenly, and I felt his glove just barely graze my jaw. I punched back and got him on the shoulder. We dodged and danced around each other, taking punches when we could and otherwise focusing on moving quickly to avoid getting hit. I could feel sweat pooling under my arms; my chest was wet, and my hair was damp with it. My muscles sang with the effort of the fight, and I reveled in it. I let him get in a few solid punches to my face just so I could be reminded of the pain of life and not be distracted by a girl and her cookies. My jaw was sore, and my eye was swelling up by the time I decided to stop fucking around and let loose till my opponent was on the floor, bleeding from his mouth.
“Jesus, Kian. Chill a little; it's just practice,” Beau snapped at me. I backed out of the ring with a quick apology and then went back to my van without cleaning myself up. I went to sleep sweaty, swollen, and bruised, yet I slept more soundly than I had in weeks.