Juliana Haygert: Playing Pretend

Charlotte

Excitement trickled through me as I parked the rental car behind the building and walked around to the front entrance.

The hot Californian night brushed my tanned skin. Excitement trickled through me. The little town buzzed with students, like me, enjoying the second to last day of spring break. A group walked past, toward the bar next door. Their voices loud and joyful, their laughter contagious.

A smile appeared on my lips. I had never experienced anything like this. I had never felt so free, so happy, so excited, and I almost hadn’t come on this trip.

My phone rang.

“Hey, girl,” I answered.

“Charlotte? Crap, I wanted to call MaryAnn,” Liana said, her words slurring.

I shook my head. For Liana to get something like calling someone wrong, she was probably pretty drunk. “I thought she was at the bonfire with you.”

“She was, but now it’s only Becca and me.”

“She’s probably out with some random guy,” I said. “Isn’t that what she does every night?”

Liana giggled. “It is, but she could have let us know so we wouldn’t worry about her.”

“All right, then call her.”

“I will. Oh, hey, have fun,” she said in a singsong tone.

“Thanks,” I said, before turning off my phone.

I slipped it inside my back pocket as I entered the bar.

Low, melodious music drifted from the ceiling. The scent of alcohol was heady in the air, and the dark and cozy atmosphere hummed with energy. On a small stage, girls, wearing not much more than bikinis, danced around poles. Drunken guys cheered and applauded each time one approached them.

With a confident gait I hadn’t had in me until six nights ago, I crossed the room, weaving through the low tables and the animated people around them, to the crowded bar. I waited for more than five minutes, until a couple moved from their stools to the exit. Hmm, fun night ahead of them.

Still smiling, I perched atop the stool, my gaze locked on the approaching bartender, who was wearing tight black slacks and a tie. Nothing more.

“What can I get for you, ma’am?” The husky tone of his voice wrapped around me as his hazel eyes consumed my soul.

Licking my lips, my gaze ran the length of his body, lingering over his taut chest and abdomen.

Jesus, so hot. “Just a martini.” I stared into his eyes as they brightened. The corner of his lip curled slightly and butterflies danced in my stomach. “For now.”

With raised eyebrows, he bowed and left to prepare my drink.

Meanwhile, I never stopped staring at him, at his hot body, at his beautiful face.

The bartender came back, placed my martini on the counter in front of me, and after stealing a quick but intense glance, walked away to serve other customers.

I exhaled a long breath and sipped from my drink, attentive to the bartender’s whereabouts, while I counted the seconds. The big neon clock on the wall read 1:57 a.m. Just three more minutes.

The bartender approached. “Can I get you anything else?”

The intensity of his stare left me breathless, but I played along. Raising a single eyebrow, I smiled. “I don’t think so.”

I peeked at the clock. One more minute.

Under the bartender’s gaze, I downed my drink, slapped a fifty on the counter, and marched out of the bar.

Giddiness propelled the butterflies in my stomach as I jogged to my car, not caring I wore a mini-denim skirt, or that I could twist my foot running in wedges.

The minute should be over by now and I had to be ready.

Barely able to hold still, I leaned against my car, arms crossed, and waited.

One minute passed.

I paced around.

Ten minutes.

I bit my nails.

Twenty minutes.

I fished my cell phone from my pocket, rested my back against the car again, and searched for the number I wanted.

“Who are you calling?”

The phone almost fell from my hands when his voice reached me. A thrilling shiver jolted down my spine.

The bartender walked from the back door toward me. He now wore a shirt, but that didn’t lessen the impact of his beauty. His soft black hair framed his hard jaw. His bangs fell over his piercing hazel eyes. His broad shoulders and chest seemed out of room inside his clothes.

I stashed my phone and offered him a wicked grin. “You.”

Without giving me time to react, the bartender walked up, bumped his body on mine, held my wrists against the car, leaned down, and found my mouth with his. I opened to him instantly. A moan came from my throat when his hard frame pressed against me, squeezing the air out of my lungs. His lips trailed down my chin, leaving a trace of fire behind. Fire that built in my chest and spread down my body.

He nibbled my ear and whispered, “Ready to go?”

“You’re late,” I chided, my hands on his chest, pushing him away and failing. I laughed as he added force and pressed tighter against me. “Mason, come on.”

His chest rumbled and he laughed in my ear. “Sorry, I can’t resist.”

“What?” I put my hands on my hips, pretending to be mad. “Just because you’re three times my size?”

“Not only that.” His tongue slid down my neck, and he bit my shoulder. “You’re too delicate. And so, so hot.”

Of course, I was delicate compared to him. The guy was over six feet, while I was five-four and so thin, I could be carried by the wind. However, when in the circle of his arms, a tornado could try to knock me out, and wouldn’t succeed.

Soon I wouldn’t be in his arms anymore.

“You were late,” I repeated in a low tone.

Mason pulled back and stared into my eyes, the intensity of his gaze making me dizzy. “I know. Sorry. It was payday.” He picked the check from his pocket and showed it to me.

I averted my gaze, not caring about his salary.

He lifted a strand of my long dark hair and twisted it around his finger. “I have a surprise though. I got tomorrow night off.”

“Why is that?” I bit my lower lip.

“And here I thought you would squeal like a girlie girl and throw yourself at me.” He ran his fingertips down my neck, making me shiver. “Or do you not want to spend the next thirty hours with me?”

I clasped my hand on his nape and pulled him to me, my mouth closing over his. I kissed him slowly, but deeply, my tongue grazing against his. I pulled back and licked his lower lip. “Does that answer your question?”

He nodded, his eyes clouded with what seemed like hunger. For me. “Let’s go?”

Thirty minutes ago. “Yes.”

Charlotte

In the tangle of sheets and legs and arms, I observed Mason as he slept, his chest slowly rising and lowering under my hand. With my finger, I traced the hills and vales and plains of his perfect physique, trying to commit it to memory so I could draw him like this later. His skin was soft and warm, just like him. My fingertip lingered on his stomach, admiring his six-pack and that V that all girls—including me—went crazy over. It would be hard to replicate such beauty on paper.

This was my first spring break as a college student. Actually, this was my first spring break away from my mother. I never thought something like this would happen. I had never acted like this before. The girls had convinced me to come on this trip, kiss a guy here and there, and have fun. However, after meeting Mason, things had happened fast.

Each time our first encounter flashed in my mind, I smiled. It had been our first night in town. The girls and I wanted to get some drinks before the bonfire at the beach, and we ended up at the bar with the hottest bartender alive. They flirted with him, but I didn’t. I wanted to, but, oh, if my mother only knew the things I dreamed about doing. Well, she would kill me if she knew where I was. She had barely approved this trip. In truth, she thought I was in Canada with Tracy, the girl she thought was my best friend.