Chapter 4
James
“All I’m saying, Nessa, is that if you’re going to drag me out to brunch with your friends, you could at least be on time.
” I had driven through Toronto traffic to pick her up after she begged me to come to this brunch with her, and she still made me sit outside her apartment and wait for her for nearly twenty minutes before she strolled out, completely unhurried.
Those twenty minutes were pure torture, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I’ve been spending all my extra energy trying not to think of Stella, which is impossible when my car still smells like her perfume, sweet and light.
Not even one night with her and I’m already an addict, chasing my next fix.
Every night, my thoughts wander to her, her taste, her smell, how she felt wrapped around me, and my hand eventually wanders to my cock, stroking myself to the thought of her legs wrapped around my waist and her tongue in my mouth.
That single moment has been branded into my memory, never to be extracted.
In the aftermath, I always remember that she’s my sister’s friend and I have been warned off of her. And she’s nineteen. And she’s inexperienced. I don’t want to ruin her. Not her wit, or her sass, or her fucking sweetness. I’m no good for her.
But thoughts of her still dominate my brain until Nessa plunks into the seat next to me without so much as an apology for keeping me waiting. I love her to death, but I do wish we were still the same size, like we were when we were kids, and I could smack her. Just a little.
“Calm down. They’re my friends, they’re going to blame me for our lateness anyway,” she replies without looking up from her phone.
A quick glance shows me she’s swiping through freaking Tinder.
It makes me wonder if she somehow knows about me and Stella, if she’s punishing me for tarnishing her shiny, angelic friend.
“Whatever. Let’s get this over with,” I grumble, navigating my way to their favourite brunch spot, Ovo.
This group is way too into brunch.
“Oh, stop looking so grumpy, sourpuss! It’s not like you’ll only know me there,” Nessa fusses from the passenger seat.
“Brave words for someone who’s going to be walking home,” I mutter, and she sticks her tongue out in retaliation. “Who’s all coming?”
“Well, there’s Beck and Hazel.”
Thank God, at least some sane people will be there.
I’m hoping that’s it, but she continues. “I think Mel was invited, Maria, Beth is going to be there—that’s not going to be awkward for you, is it?” Beth and I dated for over a year nearly a decade ago.
We had some good times, but she broke it off.
She said she felt like she was dating a ghost, that I was too focused on dreading the unavoidable outcome of my future, long predetermined by my parents.
After some lengthy talks, she decided that she wanted something different and we parted on decent terms, despite the fact that I was head over heels for her.
We still keep in touch, seeing each other at group events here and there.
After the first few times it wasn’t awkward anymore, we’re basically family now.
“Nah, Beth’s cool.” I reply.
“Good, you guys usually are, but now that you’re back in the city I wasn’t sure if anything had changed for you?” Nessa has hope sparkling in her eyes and it coaxes a smile out of me. Nessa had always hoped Beth and I would get married, and they could be sisters-in-law.
“Cool it, Nessie,” I warn as I start to pull into a spot right outside of the restaurant. The parking gods must be smiling on me today.
“Oh, and Stella will be there too,” Nessa says casually, and I hit the brakes a little too hard. I’d heard she’d been invited in the past, so it shouldn’t surprise me, but she’s never shown up to these get -togethers.
“Sorry.” I’ve got to get a handle on myself before I go in there. I’d be a liar if I said I hadn’t thought about Stella constantly since that night at the bar. The way her lips felt against mine, the gentle brush of her skin, the way her hips—
“Dude, you good?” Nessa asks and I realize I’m staring off into space.
“Yup. Let’s go.” I get out of the car and start walking away, locking it behind me once I hear Nessa follow.
The place is packed to the gills when we get there, and I hover stiffly in the entrance, arms crossed sternly until Nessa waves at someone over in the corner.
I follow her stoically, like a man on a death march.
I can hear the chatter of other patrons around me as we approach until the sound bleeds into that of our friends.
“Hey Nessa! James! It’s so good to see you! It’s nice to have everyone together.” Hazel is beaming, her long dark hair framing her face in carefully created waves that make her equally dark eyes pop. She’s hands down the kindest person I’ve ever met.
Her pale hand is tangled with Beck’s brown, tattooed one on the table, and he gives me a smiling nod, shaking his standard half-up-do.
We’ve never been close, but I’ve always respected the guy and the way he’s looked out for my little sister when I couldn’t.
It’s part of the reason that I was comfortable leaving her to go on tour in the first place, knowing someone had her back no matter what.
Mel and Maria are deep in conversation at the far end of the table, sparing me a brief hello before leaning their heads together again conspiratorially.
I’m not sure what Mel, a tall black woman in med school, and Maria, an Ecuadorian chef and Beck’s cousin, have in common, but they are locked in on each other.
While Nessa’s friends gather around the table, laughing and mingling with each other, my eyes are pulled to the honey-haired woman on the far side.
Dressed in a bright orange jumpsuit and sporting a riot of curls she’s styled into her hair, she sits in animated conversation with a bright, genuine smile that takes over her whole face.
I want to know what made her smile like that.
I want to do it myself.
Nessa drops herself down between Beth and Maria, leaving the only spot left directly across from Stella. Her shoulders tighten as I settle in and grab a menu.
After our meals arrive, I do my best to tune out. I focus on my food, shoveling in bacon, eggs, sausage, and whatever else is on my plate. They’ve got weird dishes here and I’m not entirely sure of what I’ve ordered.
I’m completely caught up in my own head when a torrent of ice water splashes across the table into my lap.
I jump out of my seat, cursing angrily. The conversation at the table screeches to a halt, all heads turned towards me as I take in the tableau.
Hazel and Beck are staring, open-mouthed and amused, Mel and Nessa are laughing at me, and Stella…
Stella is turned sideways, facing the rest of the table, her arm stretched towards me, directly next to the pitcher of water the waiter had left for us.
“I’m s-so sorry!” she stutters, realizing what she’s done. Her face is crimson as she gapes in horror, making me instantly feel bad for my intense reaction.
“It’s fine,” I grind out. I grab the useless fabric napkins from the table and start trying to wipe myself off as the others burst into motion, clearing the mess on the table, although it appears that myself and my food were the only victims in this assault.
“Has anyone seen the new tour dates for Sabrina Carpenter?” Hazel asks in an attempt to redirect the conversation from my drenched lap to literally anything else.
“She’s extended her Toronto tour dates, right? Maybe we could all go!” Beth chimes in, and I’m thankful for her for being here. I give her a curt nod as she drags everyone’s attention away from me, something she knows I hate, as I settle back into my seat, now a little damper.
After a few minutes, Stella leans across the table. “I really am sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” The crease in her forehead deepens. “I can replace your meal,” she offers.
“It’s fine, I was done anyway.”
“You weren’t even halfway through,” she argues back.
I’m snagged in her doe-eyed gaze, her eyes pleading with me for absolution.
I stonily return her stare, trying not to let my resolve to be in a piss-poor mood slip.
Her expression wilts at my coldness, and I almost feel bad about it, but I still can’t take my eyes off of her as she tries half-heartedly to rejoin the group conversation.
Instead of listening to the upcoming opening acts of some pop star, I find myself taking her in, documenting in my head how alluring she is, the way her hair falls perfectly over her shoulders, how she devotes her attention to whoever is speaking and never interrupts, the way her eyes sparkle when she laughs.
I try to pick away at my soggy food, but Nessa catches me, her face twisted in disgust until I give up and chug my latte.
I can’t take the awkwardness of trying not to stare at Stella’s bee-stung lips anymore and excuse myself to the restroom.
I try to awkwardly stand under the dryer, angling my pelvis and abdomen to hopefully dry off enough to be comfortable.
After a few minutes, I realize it’s only succeeding at making me warm and putting a kink in my hips, and decide to simply suffer through it.
Much like I was at the table. I’m paranoid that someone might have noticed how I was looking at her.
What if it was Nessa? Or Hazel, and she tells her?
What if my pain in the ass little sister developed telepathy and can hear all the thoughts rolling around in my head of things I want to do to her friend? Or what I already did?
It’s no big deal, you made out, and no one suspects anything. This isn’t junior high. All you have to do is stop thinking about it.
I’m trying and failing to talk myself down. Seeing her in her bright orange jumpsuit and wild curls, watching her every time she licked her lips…
At least the ice water was good for something.