Page 56 of When The Mountains Held Us

Isaac shoves a beer in my direction, and I take it eagerly, slurping down the cool liquid and holding in my grimace. I hate beer, but it’s better than nothing until I can get up and grab a real drink from the bar.

I turn my attention back to Oakley as the guys continue their conversation. Cliff isn’t working tonight like he usually does, and I know how much of a pain in the ass Layla can be. If the way she shoves past Oakley without so much as a look over her shoulder is any indication, I’m willing to bet that tonight has been shit for her. It’s not Oakley’s fault, though. Unfortunately, the blatant hostility from Layla has everything to do with me. After seeing how she treats Oakley, I’m disgusted that I ever touched her, let alone dated her.

Word gets around quickly in a town this size, and shortly after I moved Oakley into my place, the gossip mill started up. By the end of that first weekend, it seemed that everyone knew about my new roommate, and trust me, some of them were not shy about sharing their opinions, whether I wanted to hear them or not. Some of the more traditionally-minded people had no problem talking about how we were “living in sin.”

I even heard that Pastor Daniels preached a sermon on the topic of sexual relations out of wedlock the following Sunday, something that only served to spread the news further, and kept the old church wives flapping their gums.

Trust me, I wish there was merit to his sermon, that the topic of discussion that morning was actually happening. I blocked it out, not giving a shit whether or not people approve of our living situation, but I worried about the effect it might have on Oakley. I have to admit: she took it well and seemed to brush it off.

I’m pulled from my thoughts when a certain blonde walks over, a limp rag hanging out of her back pocket and her hair pulled back from her face, held back by one of those big claw clips. There’s a light sheen of sweat on her forehead that only makes her glow more radiantly than she did when she left the house. Her bright smile has me cracking one of my own. I allow my eyes to roam the length of her body, not bothering to hide my hungry perusal. My smile widens when I find nothing out of place, nothing to indicate that he had been here.

“I see you finally made it,” she says to me in that light teasing tone I’ve grown so attached to.

“Sorry I’m late, darlin’.”

She waves a dismissive hand. “Nonsense. You needed the rest. You want your usual?”

I give an appreciative nod. “Please.”

She grabs several of the empties from the table, tucking them under her arm before heading to the bar with a, “Be right back,” thrown over her shoulder.

“Soooo,” Justin starts, and I can already hear the slur in his voice now that we’re in a quieter section of the bar. “You tap that yet?”

I smack his arm. Hard. “Watch your fucking mouth,” I snap.

“Come on, man,” Brandon pleads with an apology in his expression. “We’re all wonderin’ it.”

I pick at the label on the empty bottle in front of me, mulling over the response I want to give versus the response I should give. I want to lash out at them, grab them by their collars and demand they apologize to not only me, but to Oakley as well, but at the end of it all, I know they’re just curious. And maybe a little concerned for me. It’s been years since I’ve been with a woman.

It’s not like I haven’t had the opportunity. I’ve been holding out for something better. I’m no saint, and my self-induced abstinence has nothing to do with thinking I shouldn’t, or not enjoying the act itself. It has more to do with making sure I can see a potential future with the next woman I’m with. Today’s society is ridiculous in the expectation that men should be able and willing to get down to it with anyone that looks their way. What ever happened to standards? I sigh.

“No, I hav— We haven’t. Not that it’s any of your concern.” I give them each a pointed look, but it’s half-hearted in nature, and they seem to relax a little.

“We just want what’s best for you. And I don’t know, man. She seems like she’s done some good,” Isaac says.

“She has, I just—” I let out a sharp exhale. “I’m giving her time. I think she knows how I feel, and sometimes I can see that reciprocated, but I don’t want to push her. I want her to come to me. Is that stupid?”

“No, it’s not. It’s called respect,” Justin replies, and both Brandon and Isaac nod their heads in agreement.

“But when you do finally get down and dirty, I’m gonna need a play-by-play because that ass is unreal, and I gotta know if it’s as good as it looks from here,” Brandon says, and I raise my hand to smack the grin off his face when Isaac jumps in, catching my hand.

“He’s joking!” Isaac shouts, and I shoot him a disbelieving look. “Okay, he’s not joking. But he is drunk. He’s not gonna remember any of this tomorrow, don’t worry.”

“Then he won’t remember if I give him another smack for good measure,” I answer, but instead of doing just that, I lower my hand as Oakley returns with our drinks. She passes the beers to the guys, looking hesitantly at Justin, who grins up at her with what I can only describe as puppy dog eyes, before she rolls her eyes and sets the beer down in front of him. She hands me my drink last, the amber liquid in the glass sloshing a little as I take it from her.

“Bourbon, neat.”

Somehow I’m able to hear her low whisper despite the noise of the revelry taking place around us. I’m automatically in tune with her now, seeking her out in every room, listening for her voice, and her voice alone. She’s smiling down at me, but over her shoulder I catch a glimpse of Layla at a nearby table, shooting daggers at us.

Not wanting to cause any trouble for Oakley, I return my attention to guys, who are all staring at us with rapt attention like they’re watching a sitcom. When they catch my gaze, they all immediately drop their own, chattering over each other in an attempt to hide that they were watching.

The absence of her presence leaves me with the faint aroma of lavender, and I glance over my shoulder to see her weaving her way through the crowd, back to the bar. I slouch in my seat a little, getting comfortable, settling in for another few hours of watching her until it’s time to go home and crawl into bed again.

Twenty-Nine

Oakley

Ican’t help the disappointment at Levi’s clear dismissal of me. This hot-and-cold, back-and-forth is exhausting, and I don’t know if it’s my overall frustration at my seemingly unreturned interest, or the fact that Layla has been hovering by their booth ever since I walked away, that has me in a shit mood. One minute, he’s giving me bedroom eyes from across the room, and the next, he’s acting like he doesn’t even know me.