Claire
Claire was half-expecting he wouldn't let her inside. She thought he'd make her sit at the picnic table and drink there. But he unlocked the door and held it open as she walked in. It was so clean it practically sparkled. Simon came to greet her as soon as she entered.
"This is a really nice house, Brandon." She said, bending down to give the dog a good scratch behind his ears.
"It's my grandparents on my mother's side. They're in assisted living. They have been for quite some time. I just take care of the place for them."
"It's cleaner here than it ever was in my apartment, that's for sure."
"Don't you have multiple people living there? Besides, I just had it cleaned, so don't beat yourself up too bad."
She watched as he draped his suit jacket on the couch and began folding his shirt sleeves up to his elbows. It was dangerous how attractive she found him. She knew better than to act on her feelings but he made it difficult. She couldn't help but think the most inappropriate thoughts about him when she was alone in her flat. He had to know what he was doing, right? Was he doing it on purpose?
He opened the fridge and grabbed two bottles of Sam Adams, twisting the cap off them both before handing her one. She followed him to the living room and sat on the couch, he flopped down next to her. "At least that part is over with." He said with a sigh.
"You ready to hop into this house tomorrow?" She asked.
He looked over to her. "Tomorrow? We don't get even a little break?"
She shrugged, "You can do what you want but I'll be there."
He sighed. "I can't let you go there alone. You might see the car in the garage and want it."
Claire snorted, and almost sucked some of her beer into her nasal passage. "What kind of car is it?" she asked.
"It's stupid and ugly. You wouldn't like it."
She scooted closer to him on the couch. "What's the car, Brandon?"
He turned to face her. "It's a 1972 Mustang. Mach 1."
She shook her head. "I don't know what that means."
"So I can have it?"
"It's all yours." She agreed
"Oh hell yeah." He cheered.
"I don't want any pushback on the stuff in the house that I ask for, okay?" She quirked her eyebrow.
"Deal." He nodded. "I loved that car, Claire. He took me out in it once or twice when I was a kid but in all these years I can't imagine he put more than a hundred miles on it."
"Lucky you, I didn't even know he had a fancy car. He always drove me around in his regular old car. Whatever black sedan he had at the time."
"I'll have to take you for a ride in it, then." Brandon whispered, staring intently at her. "Before you go."
She licked her lips, suddenly aware they were as dry as sandpaper. "Before I go."
He emptied his beer and stood. "Why don't you finish yours so I can bring you a new one?" He asked, looking down towards her. She held up her near-full bottle, and decided to give him what he wanted. She threw her head back and chugged. It took her far longer than she expected when she started, but she persevered. He grinned as he grabbed the bottle from her hands, taking a moment to stare down at her. He bit his lip as his eyes trailed down her chest, waist, and legs.
She thought he might lean down and, maybe, kiss her? Touch her? She froze- ready and waiting. He backed away, like she was a dangerous animal about to pounce, and left her wanting. While he was in the kitchen, she grabbed a pillow from behind her back, buried her face in it, and belched so he wouldn't hear. She sat cross legged on the couch and lay the pillow flat on her lap, hoping it would block the signals the space between her legs was sending up to her brain.
He returned with two fresh bottles and handed her one. He sat down on the couch so close his thigh rubbed against her knees. She could feel his warmth through his slacks. "Do you have anyone waiting for you back in Boston?" He asked.
"Hmm?" She questioned, taking a swig from the bottle. "Like a boyfriend?"
"Yeah." He said. "Or a girlfriend."
She shook her head. "I was seeing someone for a while but it didn't work out."
"Who broke it off?" he was hardly asking. It sounded like he was demanding answers.
"I did. He still has feelings for me." She admitted, though she didn't know why she wasn't opposed to his line of questioning. "He texts me all the time, I never text back."
"Why did you end it?"
"We went through some hard times together. I didn't like how he handled it. He wanted me to be..." She trailed off, trying to find the words she wanted to use, "Something I'm not."
"And what is that?"
She sighed, feeling less willing to be vulnerable. "He wanted me to be all his. I wanted to be separate, but together. Does that make any sense?"
He nodded, and started tearing the label off his bottle. "I can't blame him." He looked up to her through his lashes, eyes several shades darker than usual.
"You want your girlfriends to be all yours?" She asked. He slowly nodded in agreement. She knew what he was saying. He wanted her to be all his. For the life of her, she couldn't find the strength to object. She wanted to be all his. She wanted to know what it felt like, abandoning reason and letting him do whatever he wished. She wanted to give herself to him in every sense she could think of. "It's been too long since I've been with someone." he whispered.
"Me too." She whispered back. "Brandon I want-"
"Stop." he ordered. His breath was ragged. "Whatever you're about to say, don't."
"But I-"
"Claire, I'm begging you." He shook his head, his cheeks were flushed. She was beginning to have an idea of what he looked like when he lost control. It was nothing but a tease. "If you say you want me I won't be able to control myself. And if you say you don't want me I wont be able to forgive myself, do you understand?" She nodded. "I hate my father for doing this to me. All he's ever done is given me a taste of what I can't have."
"Why can't you have me?" She asked, and it sounded like she was begging, too. In a way she was. She was disappointed.
"Because you're leaving." He said, matter of factly.
"So?"
"If I sleep with you I might fall for you. You have no clue what it would be like for me if I fall for you, just to never see you again. I've been in dark places before, Claire. I don't think I'll ever make it out again."
"You're thinking too hard, Brandon. And what about me?" She asked, moving even closer, letting the pillow fall to the floor and reveal her bare thighs. She knew half of her forwardness was a result of the alcohol going to her head. She'd had two drinks at the luncheon already and it didn't take much for her. She blocked out any caution. "You're going to give me a taste of something I can't have? You're going to let yourself be just like him?"
She watched his eyes flicker to her lips, before meeting her gaze again. "When you put it that way-"
"We don't have to do anything. But can I at least kiss you?" She asked, reaching out and resting her hand on his leg.
He reached for her and cupped her cheek. He let his hand slide back until his fingers were buried in her hair. "You want to kiss me, Claire?"
"Please?"
He dove for her. His lips pressed to hers recklessly, teeth teasing her bottom lip. She opened her mouth for him and let his tongue explore. His hand wrapped the back of her neck, and before she knew it, he was on his back and she'd been pulled on top of him. His hand wandered down her back, over her waist, until he planted it firmly on her ass. She ground down on him, and he moaned into her mouth. She still had her bottle in her hand, and she tried to set it down on the carpet next to the couch, but her judgment was off and the suds came flowing from the bottle all over his plush, gray area rug.
She pulled away. "Oh, fuck." She exclaimed, looking down at the mess she made.
"Don't worry about it." He said, voice thick and heavy with wanting. He set his bottle down and she watched as it followed suit, clinking into hers as it toppled over. He tried to pull her back down to him but she resisted.
"You just had this place cleaned, we can't leave it!" She exclaimed, standing up and rushing to the kitchen. As soon as she stood still for a moment she felt her dress, bunched against her hips after riding up her legs. She fixed herself and grabbed a towel off the counter. She went to run back to the living room, and almost collided with Brandon carrying the empty bottles. She was suddenly hyper aware of how he smelled, how he towered over her, and how his hands were only inches away. She had a fleeting vision of him picking her up and putting her on the counter. Anything he could do to put his hands back on her, she would accept. But instead, she swerved around him and found the wet spot on the floor, pressing the towel down over it.
He returned to the living room and she felt him looming over her. "Claire." he said, voice starting to return to normal. "I'm sorry."
She laughed to herself, frantically pushing and pushing and pushing until the towel was full of beer. "Why are you apologizing?"
"I did exactly what I said I shouldn't do." She picked up the towel and stood to face him. He looked defeated. She was overwhelmed with guilt. She pressured him to do something he didn't want. She was no better than Caleb, pressuring her to give up her future for their relationship.
"You did what I asked. You kissed me. There's nothing to apologize for."
"But I can't-"
"I know." She interrupted him this time. She put her hand up, signaling him to stop reminding her. She felt bad, but being told over and over that he couldn't possibly allow himself to do something as horrible as sleep with her was starting to affect her pride. "We can't sleep together. I get it. Don't worry about me, nothing's changed between us. We can go back to normal, if that's what you want."
"It's not what I want. But you're leaving."
She sighed. "It's what you need. I understand. Thank you for kissing me, it was really nice. But I won't ask you again. It was wrong of me and I'm sorry."
"It's okay."
She looked down to the floor. "I think your rug is a little ruined." She wanted to ask what would have happened if she left it, just like he asked. But she thought the answer to the question might lead them back to the couch, or even his bed. As tempting as it was, she kept it to herself out of respect for the man in front of her.
"I never liked that rug anyway." He replied, staring down at it. "Now I really fucking hate it."
Claire giggled. "I should get home."
He blinked at her. "You don't have to. I don't want you to."
She couldn't imagine any alternative. "What do people usually do when they're trying super hard not to fuck?"
He laughed and looked around, eyes landing on the TV. "Watching something probably won't help."
She shook her head. "Absolutely not."
"Want to play video games?"
She sucked her teeth. "That's not my thing, really."
"Yeah, if the guys saw me online they'd bombard me anyways."
"The guys?"
He shrugged. "Yeah, just some dudes I play with. They're a bunch of deviants."
"I bet they don't even know that they have a gentleman on their hands."
He laughed. "I've tried to take them under my wing but, I don't think I'm helping much."
"You should play." She said, "I want to shower and catch up with my friends from home, anyways. They asked me to call after the funeral. We'll see each other again tomorrow."
"Right." He agreed, accepting his defeat. "I'll get changed and then take you to your car."
Brandon did as promised. Luckily the car ride wasn't as awkward as it had the potential to be. Things really did go back to normal, except not every touch was so heavily charged. He put his hand on her knee while he drove and it felt right. It didn't make her breath hitch in her throat. They had gotten it out in the open and decided to let it go. The tension wasn't so intense anymore.
She hopped out of his truck and stood in the doorway confirming they both had keys to the house and would be there bright and early the following day. She watched Brandon open his mouth to say something, and close it shortly after. She thought he might be about to apologize again, so she tried to give him a kind smile. "Goodnight Brandon. Tonight was fun."
"It was. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Looking forward to it." He blushed and waved goodbye while she got in her car. They didn't catch Ashley, watching them from the restaurant window, coming to conclusions of her own on why they disappeared hours ago.