Let Me Love You

Nash Logan

NASH

Waking up, my head begins to pound. The dull ache wraps around the base of my skull, and I know that I may have had one to many last night. As I reach for the bottle of ibuprofen on my bedside table, I feel a gentle arm snake across my waist. That’s right, I didn’t come home alone last night. I look to my right and see a mess of red hair draped over my pillows. Gina? Jessica? I can’t for the life of me remember her name, so I decide it’s best for a nickname instead. The sooner I can get her out the door without incident, the better. I slide out from under her grasp and reach for my boxers that have been haphazardly tossed onto the floor. Once securely around my waste, I pull the covers down, taking in the nice rack that shared my bed with me. “Hey Red, I gotta leave here in a few…” she stirs and looks at me through hooded eyes. “Are you so sure about that Nashie, I was hoping to spend the entire day in bed with you.” I cringe at the name, “not gonna happen baby, I’m not looking for a long term thing here, just a night of fun.” Pouting she slinks out of my bed and slowly traipses around the room collecting her things. I know she’s trying to convince me to go another few rounds, but the more I give the more she’ll think she has a chance. Finally after thirty minutes of her taking her sweet ass time waiting for me to change my mind, I get her out the door to the Uber I called for her. I might be a jerk, but in my not a complete asshole. Making my way from the front door to the kitchen, I throw a k cup into my keurig and wait for the dark brown liquid to release itself into my mug. Once I’ve settled with the cup in my hand, now beginning to feel some semblance on human again, I open my phone and begin going through work emails. I’m an architect by trade. I’ve always love building, and math for that matter. Working through the issues to put the pieces together. Watching my projects from prep planning to finished has always given me a sense of accomplishment. There is also the fact that I am my own boss. I make my own schedule, pick what projects I want to sign up for. I can do what I want, look how I want, and never have to worry too much about working on nights and weekends.

I’ve made a great living for myself considering where I grew up. Jumping from foster home to foster home as my mother struggled with her own demons. When my dad left at the age of five, it was just her and I. Soon the struggles of being a young single mom got the best of her and she turned to drinking, which then lead to drug use. The last time I lived with her, I was twelve. That’s when the courts finally terminated parental rights, but being a troubled tween, nobody would adopt me. I kept getting shipped off to the next house until the trouble was too much to handle and eventually I aged out. Though I was always out partying, hooking up with girls, and causing fights, the one thing I always took seriously were my grades. I knew I couldn’t f**k that up, it was my one ticket out. I graduated top of my class and got a full ride to U of M where I got my degree in architecture. And here I am today. Still a bullheaded semi alcoholic with more ink on his body than a printing press. But I’ve got more than enough money to be comfortable, and at the young age of twenty eight, I’m still not ready to retire my rough ways.

Once all of my emails have been answered, I head upstairs to take a much needed shower, the last remaining puzzle piece to make me feel 100% alive again, and get dressed. It’s a beautiful day so I decide to take out my Honda CBR1100XX Blackbird. I bought it this year as a congratulations to myself for closing on a big account. I slap on my leather jacket and a helmet, making my way into town. I have a few errands to run that I’ve put off this week. I park on the side of the road and make my way into various shops, meet with a client that’s looking to expand their shop and as I’m heading back to my bike I see two pretty little things enjoying lunch at the bistro. As I’m walking I over hear something about losing virginity, and I let out a low chuckle. Lighting a cigarette, I look up and see that I’m basically being eye f****d by this sexy little blonde thing whose back had once been pointed toward me. “Ya know, I can send you a picture. It will definitely last longer.” I say to her with a flirtatious wink. c*****g an eyebrow at me she crinkles her nose. I can’t help but think how cute she looks doing that. Wait, cute? What the f**k dude. “May I be as bold as to ask what’s so damn funny?!” “The two of you bickering like some old married couple.” I lean against my bike taking a hit off my cigarette flicking the ashes into the wind. Before she has a chance to answer I lean over the railing separating the patio from the sidewalk. I get close enough that only inches are separating my lips from her skin. I can smell the scent of vanilla wafting off of her. “I’d be willing to help you with that problem of yours.” I can see her shiver slightly as my breath grazes over her ear. Then she stiffens and I can see the irritation in her eyes. ”No thank you, I’ve gone this far in my life without obtaining an STD and I’d rather keep it that way.” The comment was so quick and snappy I can’t help but let out a loud laugh. “You’re a spit fire if I’ve ever seen one.” I normally go for the shy ones, because the saying always seems to be true. But there is something about her that is drawing me in. “If you change your mind, give me a call blondie.” I reach into my wallet and toss one of my business cards onto the table in front of her. With a wink and a smile I hop on my bike before she can react. “Have a nice afternoon ladies.” I rev my motorcycle and I take off.

The entire ride home I can’t get that blonde girl out of my head. She has these large blue eyes that that a guy could get lost in. Her loose blonde waves frame her youthful face in a way that makes me feel something in the pit of my stomach. Not to mention the rack on her. If I wanted to catch a charge I would have reach out and caressed them. And that mouth on her. What I wouldn’t do to be on top of her as she screamed my name. Ugh. I can feel my d**k starting to stir in my pants. Dude, what is up with you. She’s just a chick. As soon as I get home I decide to distract myself with work. After three hours of sitting at my desk, I have absolutely nothing done. I keep getting wiffs of her vanilla scent. Realizing that it’s coming from the air freshener that’s plugged in next to my desk I let out a groan. I unplug the scent pod and walk to the trash can tossing it on my way out of the office door. “Well this was a total bust.” I say to myself as I rummage through my kitchen cupboards looking for something to snack on. I somehow find myself digging into my whiskey stash, pouring myself a drink. I settle in on one of the barstools at the large island and slowly sip my drink. Looking around the empty silent room, I can’t help but think maybe I should get a dog? Thinking it through I decide against it. I can barely keep myself alive, let alone another living creature. I look at the time on my stove and it’s somehow already eight o’clock at night. Thinking that I’m much too young to sit around on my ass at eight on a Saturday night, I grab my jacket and my keys and head out to find some company to keep.

By the time I’m out the door it’s pushing eight thirty. I hop on my bike and pass through the town center. I head into a the Tap Room, a place which I don’t frequent very often and make my way to the bar. Sitting down I soon order a whiskey neat, and start looking for my lucky lady of the night. Scanning the bar I see her, the blonde from the bistro. Of course she works here. Stilled in place I watch her has she works, bringing drinks to different tables. She laughs and her nose crinkles again and I can’t help but find it absolutely f*****g adorable again. Now that she’s standing I can see she wearing these tight jean cutoff short that squeeze her luscious ass in all the right places. I’m not sure if I have ever been so jealous of an article of clothing before. Her black tank top exposes just enough of her lean stomach, and I can feel my pants begin to stir again. Damn it. I throw back the rest of my whiskey and order another. Locked into place I just observe her movements as she works at a quick pace.

An hour goes by and she hasn’t noticed me, or at least if she has, she hasn’t made it known. I hear the bartender telling her to take her break and she slides into a stool at the other end of the bar. I call the man over and order her a drink, he gives me a side eye glance with a raised eyebrow, but says nothing else. Soon he’s delivering her cocktail and after and brief exchange I see her glance down the bar making direct eye contact with me. I shoot her a small smirk and raise my glass toward her before taking a swig. She makes a beeline right for me, cheeks just as flush as before. I can feel my heart rate quicken the closer she gets. Such a foreign feeling to me, what is this? Gaining some resolve, I lean back in my stool. “Hey Mary, did ya miss me?”