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deafearsdiary · 2 months ago

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I fiddle with my bracelet, making sure to keep my head down. I don't want to look like I'm here trying to go home with yet another failure. Any minute now, I think, after five more minutes pass. I take a sip of my drink -cranberry juice and club soda- then replace the square glass that seems to sparkle even under the dimly lit bar lights, back on the black napkin. I'm not sure what it is about the color black that makes even the most common items seem more classy. Though, this bar is probably the least classy of every one in my city. The sleaziest people come to hook up here, however, the nicest people come to socialize. I have a love hate relationship with it, but it's the closest one to both my best friend and I. I take another sip of my drink, noting that the bitter sweet taste from the cranberries is fitting given my mood, and look at my watch.

A high pitched laughs draws my attention toward the entrance, where my best friend is sauntering in. As usual, he's dressed in all black, and he looks effortlessly handsome. It doesn't take long for him to find me through the crowd since he towers over almost everyone here. When our eyes meet, he smiles, revealing a dimple on his right cheek. AKA my favorite feature on his kind face. Some chick in a skimpy black cocktail dress side steps in front of him as he makes his way toward me. Their interaction is inaudible from where I'm sitting, but the series of grins and nods tells me he's trying his best to get out of this conversation politely. "Actually, I'm meeting someone already," I think he says, nodding in my direction. When she turns around with an irritated look on her face, I sit up straighter and give her a "yeah, move along bitch" wave. Proud that my lip reading skills haven't failed me yet.

I hop off the stool when he finally gets to me, and melt in his comforting hug. Man, I needed this. I don't even know how much time passes before we sit back down. He eyes my drink and smiles, "oh, so we aren't drinking tonight. Okay." He orders a cranberry gingerale, and adjusts himself to face me better. "How was your date with loverboy?" He asks, raising an eyebrow? Frustration and sadness cloud my thoughts, and all I can do is tuck my hair behind my ear and shake my head to keep from crying. Tears still pool, so my attempt is obviously not working. Don't cry here in the damn bar, he isn't worth it. I offer him a soft smile, careful to avoid his eyes. "How was work today, were you able to find the photographers and models?" My best friend is starting his own clothing brand. He's been really busy trying to get people to model his clothing, and a really well known photographer before the "best place to shoot" becomes overbooked and unavailable.

He shrugs, "I thought I found one girl that told me she was a professional model. Then she sent me her onlyfans, and then somehow the deal became, "I'll be a part of your video if you'll be in mine"." He makes the air quotes with his fingers, and I can't stifle my laugh. "Shit is so frustrating, I swear." I watch his curly hair bounce as he shakes his head. "Well, if all else fails I could always help you model your clothing. You know, as a last resort type of thing."

"Last resort? Are you crazy?" Umm.

"What?" He's looking at me like I have two heads. "What? I'm just saying. I know I'm not a model or anything, but if you can't find anyone I will of course help you." He continuously looks at me with the same dumbfounded face, so I push his shoulder. Anything to get him to snap out of it. "Would you stop looking at me like I have two heads? What did I say that was so wrong?"

"Obviously you're going to be modeling my clothes, what are you smoking, crack?" He turns my legs on the stool so that I'm facing him now. "I can't believe you thought you weren't going to be modeling the clothes... MY clothes." I can't help but chuckle at his dramatics. "Well excuse me for thinking you only wanted it to be professionals. Is that not who you've been breaking your neck to find?" I break eye contact with him to pick up my drink.

"I mean, yeah. But, you're one of the most important people in the world to me, obviously I want you to be a part of the launch of my career. My dream. Well, one of them anyway." I try to ignore how my heart fluttered at that last part, and quickly silence the thoughts in my head that would send me spiraling. I can see him watching me from my peripheral, but I keep my eyes trained on the glass, half full with drink. That's good, the optimism during one of the worst times of your life will definitely make it feel like less of a tragedy, I cant help but think to myself. "Then I will of course be there. I definitely don't mind being the face of your brand." I give him a cheeky smile and he finally peels his gaze away from my side profile to pick up his drink. I really missed him, especially after the trainwreck of a not-date that I had. I really want to talk to him about it, but I can't start crying in this bar. I try to keep the conversation going, mostly to keep him from asking questions I don't have the strength to answer without crumbling. I just know that if I give him enough time, he'll look at me with his tell-me-what's-really-going-on-eyes, and I can never resist those.

He starts telling me about a trip he's planning to see his family, and just as he starts talking about his mother wanting me to visit too a group of men at the other end of the bar explode in a series of "aw man's", "that's some bullshit's", and "hell naw's". Every last one of them is glued to the basketball game they are watching, and are audibly pissed that their team is losing. I giggle, looking back at my best friend. "The playoffs," he says, filling me in and shaking his head. "Let's go." He stands up first and helps me off of my stool. You'd think they intentionally made them for people who are 6'2, AKA my best friend. He loves to tease me about my height, but 5'5 is normal for a woman. It's not my fault he's a tree. He tips the bartender, pays for our drinks, and daps up a couple of guys before we leave the bar. I notice the chick from earlier staring at us as we leave, and because I've had a night already, I give her a show and grab his arm. Unsurprisingly he tucks me in closer, and I feel nothing but satisfaction when the fire ignites in her eyes. I don't hide my smirk either.

Women always assume that we are together, and admittedly, I'd prefer that they did. My best friend has a heart of gold, and for as long as I can remember women have treated him like a sex toy. I can't say that he isn't completely innocent either, but when he is serious about a woman, they don't treat him any better than the one night stands. So I feel it's my duty to act as his bodyguard whenever we are together. It's the most I can do, for now.

The warm breeze hits my skin when we step outside, immediately relieving me of my goosebumps, and I'm instantly grateful he suggested we leave the bar. "Where's your car?" I ask him, side stepping out of a couples way that's trying to enter the bar. He starts walking and points behind him. "Lets just walk for a little while." I don't fight him on that because of how good it feels out here, and because I know that he's walking to my favorite spot downtown. Right around the corner. We walk in silence, and I'm grateful for that, too. It gives me time to put on a brave face and prepare for these questions he's about to ask me that I know is going to tug at my heart strings. I don't want to cry tonight.

About five minutes later we walk up to a bridge that oversees a river. We might've made it in ten had I been walking by myself, but I had to walk a little fast to keep up with his long strides. I tried to keep my huffing at a very low volume. Obviously, I have to hit the gym if a little fast paced walking is making me breathe this heavily. Noted. Surprisingly, there aren't many people littering the pavement on the bridge, given the fact that it's a Friday night, but just another thing I can be grateful for. I hate it when I can't get a seat on the bench and watch the water beneath us. And it really pisses me off when people act ignorantly up here and ruin my happy place. I don't have many of them, and this is the only one I found in this city, outdoors.

I follow his lead and rest against the railing, looking out at the water. He's watching me again, I can feel it. "So-". "Tell me what happened. On your date." His tone is soft, but serious. One glance, and I note that he isn't giving me the eyes, but I let out a long sigh nonetheless. "We never even made it to the date," I tell him, embarrassed. Even though I know he'd never judge me, or make me feel stupid about something like this, it's still embarrassing to tell the story. Hell, it was embarrassing to live through it. He's silent, waiting for me to continue. So I do. "When he came over, I immediately knew we weren't leaving my house then. He looked.. disheveled. Like he hasn't slept all night. But I thought, that can't be it because he told me he was going to sleep when we got off the phone the night before." He's giving me great eye contact, and I can't help but look away. I turn and take a seat behind him on the bench. He follows me with his eyes, and turns around to put his back against the railing, his elbows resting on either side of him. "I asked him, why he looked so exhausted and.. uneasy. And you know what the hell he said to me?"

"Babe, what's the matter? Why do you look so tired and like you're about to throw up?" I can't but watch his leg continuously bounce up and down. His nervousness is making me nervous. "Um, can I get some water please?" I nod, and head to the kitchen. I grab him a water bottle, and sit down on the couch next to him. I try to be patient and give him time to speak up on his own, but he stays quiet for minutes. "Seriously, D. Say something, you're scaring me." I rest on my hand on his knee to stop the incessant bouncing. I don't even think he realized he was doing it. He places his hand on top of mine, then opens and closes his mouth, twice. I raise an eyebrow, "D..." "I-I was at the hospital for 10 hours," he stammers. Panic rises in my chest, immediately. I'm about to ask him if he's okay, but something stops me. Of course he is, he's right here in front of me. I mean, he could've been diagnosed with cancer or something, but does that sort of thing last for ten hours? I don't know, and I'm afraid to ask. So I wait longer for the rest of the story. He takes a long swig of the water, just to stammer some more. Now, I'm getting irritated and worried. "D!" "I was watching my daughter be born." And immediately, my heart cracks.

My best friend is next to me wiping away the treacherous tears that keep on falling from my eyes. At least I'm not crying in the bar while a basketball game is going on the background. "Two years!" I choke out. "Two years I wasted on that douche bag. And on our anniversary his daughter is born... I really thought he was going to propose." He hugs me for what feels like too long, and not long enough, but by the time he lets me go, the tears have stopped at least. He hands me a tissue out of the inside pocket of his jacket. Bless his little heart, I didn't even think people really utilized inside jacket pockets anymore. "I," he starts. "Never liked him," we say in unison. "Yeah I know." I offer him a small smile. It's all I can muster at the moment, but I can see it in his eyes that he knows that if I had more, I'd give more.

I fumble with the tissue in my hand for a few minutes, then sign in frustration. "It just feels like I'm defective, or something." I scoot away from him a bit so I can pull my right leg onto the bench, and turn to face him. "I feel like no matter what I do right, or wrong, the end result will be the same: me falling in love with a douchebag who doesn't appreciate me, but enjoys how I make him feel. I'm just tired of not getting the love I give, ya know." I study his face, his easily gorgeous face, as he nods, taking in my confession. I wish he had at least a pimple or something. The way he looks is making me feel even worse somehow. "Listen to me," he shakes his head. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with you. I know you never believe me when I tell you this, but I swear to God, you're perfect. You are so smart and kind and funny. Your body?" He whistles, and my cheeks heat. "Your body is amazing, but this face? This face can stop 5 o' clock traffic. The men that lose you are dickheads that never deserved a second of your time in the first place." My eyes swell with tears, and I look down at my hands to keep from crying, again.

My best friend has always complimented me, he's always been there to make me feel better after another one bites the dust, but I've never gotten this amount of honesty from him before. It has my mind going to places I'm scared to even admit to myself. "Listen to me," He puts his finger under my chin, guiding me to look at him. Then swipes the pad of his surprisingly soft thumb against my cheek bone. Wiping away a traitorous tear.

"The next man that has you is going to know how to love you. He's going to understand every way your mind works, and memorize the rhythm of your heartbeat. Every interaction with you will be a prize to him. Every time you guys have sex, he will treat your body like a sacred temple. Every kiss will be intentional and meaningful. He won't ever give anyone the chance of getting their hands on you ever again. He won't hurt you. Because that's what you deserve, and then some." All I can do is blink and moisturize my eyes. Because I couldn't will them to blink while he spoke to me. I couldn't stop staring at his lips, his sexy lips, as they spoke the most beautiful and thoughtful words he's ever said to me. The same lips that are getting close to mine. Wait...

He's so close that his warm breath tickles my top lip. "There isn't anything I won't do to make sure I never see you hurt like this again. I'll make sure you know your worth, until there's no more air in my lungs." His tongue darts out, quickly wetting his lips before they press into mine with a comforting amount of force. It takes all of two seconds before my hands are in his hair, and our tongues are dancing. His saliva is sweet, his tongue is soft, and my body is humming. No, not humming, screaming. His hands move from my face to the small of my back, and he quickly wraps his arms around my waist. In one swift motion he turns and pulls me on top of him, so that I'm straddling him. Thank God it's just us out here. Though, I can't say I'd care too much if we had an audience. The way his teeth are grazing and nipping at my bottom lip doesn't leave me much room to care about anything other than getting more of him. Because it's not enough.

It's almost like he reads my mind because he pulls me closer, deepening the kiss. It's turned from sweet and sensual to hot, wet, and sloppy. And I'm in love. I put my hand on the back of his neck and push myself against him more. I need to be closer. I give him more tongue, he gives me more saliva, then moves his hand into my hair, getting a fistful. He breaks our kiss to kiss and bite and lick my neck, and I whimper. When he abandons my neck and revisits my lips I pull up his shirt enough to slip my hands underneath. I rub my hands over his abs, that are defined even without him having to flex. God, his body. It's not a shock to me because he's always looked like this, but to feel it. My goodness, it makes me wish we weren't outside. Our tongues play around a little more before he softens the kiss. He drags my bottom lip through his teeth one last time, and I involuntarily moan.

We kiss two more long times before I sit upright on his lap. His chest rising and falling, matching my breathing. I can't help but think that maybe even our heartbeats are in sync at this moment too. My lips feel swollen as he runs his thumb across my bottom lip. I can't help but smile. I don't even want to say anything. I don't want to ruin whatever this is, I just want his lips on mine again. It's a sensation that feels new and familiar all at the same time. He stands up, holding me by my waist, then lowering me. Only letting go when he knows I've gotten my balance. He has to fix his pants a little, and I laugh. We stare at each other, not breaking eye contact, for what feels like minutes. Neither one of us is speaking, but neither one of us has to. It's almost as if we have telepathy. The only thing he keeps on repeating in my head is, it's always been you. You're mine, and I'm yours. And hell yes I accept. My heart honestly wouldn't feel any safer with anyone else. I'd be a moron to not accept everything he just offered me. And I believed every word. Spoken and unspoken.

He breaks eye contact first, by looking down at my hand, lacing his fingers in mine. He kisses me one more time, powerful and meaningful just like he promised, then says, "let's go home."

#thoughts #diary #love #romantic #emotions #my fish #story #short story #kiss

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