I’m sitting at Jonah’s desk when there’s a knock on the office door — I don’t say anything and it opens anyway.
Koa pokes his head in. “You’ve got a visitor.”
‘What a fucking understatement,’ I think as she walks on in.
I’ve been staring at her text the last forty-five minutes trying to work out if this is legitimate — and listen — I don’t actually have any real expectations of what could happen tonight. We text. Always have, sort of. I think it’s cause we’re both removed from each other’s immediate worlds. An abstract place to debrief and offload, no consequence for doing it. And this has happened before, her coming to me in this capacity — just the one time, I guess, but even still, nothing happened. A girl like her needs to feel like she’s not on the track that she is, and a man like me feels like a confined way to explore it. I’ve been many a toff’s rough and tumble night, but if I’m completely honest, it’s not really how I’m imagining my night with Magnolia will go. She’s not like that.
She steps further into the room and she’s holding her right index finger with her left hand, her eyes all big and round, and — fuck, she’s beautiful — that’s the first thing I think as I stare over at her.
Koa makes a face over her head, eyes wide — knows I’ve always been a bit keen on her.
I wave my finger towards the door, telling him to leave, and then I stand up, walk around the desk and lean back against it. Cross my arms over my chest and stare over at her.
“Hello,” I say, don’t let myself smile.
She stands there, feet together, eyes still round, face still nervous. She swallows. “You made me an offer once—”
I nod slowly. “I did.”
She squares up a little. “Are you still good for it?”
I push off the desk and walk over to her, tilting my head.
“We’re talking about sex, yeah?”
She holds my eyes. “Yes.”
“Yeah—” I give her a reluctant smile. “We’ve tried this before, you and me—”
“Yes.” She nods resolutely. “But that was before, and I’m different now.”
I look over her face, eyes fall to that mouth of hers I’ve thought about kissing too many times since the one time I did. Embarrassing, really… for someone like me to think of someone like her as much as I do. Not that she’s embarrassing, she’s — I don’t know. I just don’t think of girls if they’re not in front of me.
Drag my eyes back up to hers, cross my arms again because it’s the only way I’m not going to start feeling her up on the spot.
“Yeah? How are you different now?” I ask, coolly.
“Why don’t you take off my clothes and see?” she says and I swear to God, my face almost falters. That line takes me fucking out, enough so that I don’t even respond, I just stare at her and her cheeks start to go pink.
She waits for me. “Do you not want to?”
I shake my head, pinching my eyes at her. “That’s not it.”
She takes a shallow breath. “Then what?”
You know how girls’ cheeks go a bit pink after they’ve been crying? And the rims around their eyes are always more obvious? Their noses kind of go redder from wiping?
“Did something happen?” I ask and I don’t move towards her even though I think about it.
“No.” She shakes her head quickly.
So yes.
I tilt my head to the other side, not looking away from her face. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” She nods, again quickly — so no.
I walk over to her and wipe under the corner of her right eye with my thumb. “You look like you’ve been crying.”
She takes a breath and a step backwards, frowning up at me. “What, are you a detective now?”
I shake my head a bit. “Just paying attention.”
“Well stop—” She stomps a foot before rushing me, grabbing my face with her hands, pressing her mouth up against mine, pushing me back towards the table.
And I’m not a saint, let’s not pretend I am. We all know I’m not — I lean back against the desk and she’s pressing herself into me, standing between my legs. My hands grip the table and not her because I don’t fully trust myself to stop if I were to start. But there’s an upside — me not holding her, it means she’s holding on to me more. Pressing herself into me, coiling her little body around me.
And kissing her — fuck — it’s — I don’t know. You ever stand on sinking sand before? When you’re by the shore, and your feet just melt into the ground?
That’s what kissing her feels like, so I hold the fucking table tighter.
Lose track of time for a bit — don’t read into that, she’s just a good kisser — and then her hands start to get busy, fumbling around the top button of my jeans—
“Woah, woah—” I pull back a bit, but not too much because I don’t really want to stop. “Whats going on?”
“Nothing?” She shakes her head quickly.
I put both my hands on her waist — probably not a good idea because now that I’ve done it, now that she’s in my hands — probably not going to let her go again.
“Magnolia.” I’m firm now. “What happened?”
She takes a few shallow breaths — no good, she’s about to cry.
“I told BJ I loved him. He told me he loves me back—” Another shallow breath. “He kissed me. He slept with me and told me he was going to break up with his girlfriend. Then we had a fight, and he slept with her instead.”
Her eyes are shiny from not crying even though she wants to.
“Shit.” I blink over at her. This fucking guy.
“Yes.” She holds my eyes, looking defeated. Don’t like it on her, it doesn’t suit her. A girl like her, she’s not made to lose. I lick my bottom lip, thinking it through quickly.
“And now you’re here?”
She nods.
Tilt my head at her. “Why here?”
She swallows nervously, gives me a small shrug. “You’re Central Park at midnight.”
My face falters. I’m her death wish?
I frown at her. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“He wields how much I love him around like it’s a play sword,” She gives me a hopeless shrug. “And it doesn’t matter how he looks at me or how my whole body feels when my arm’s pressed against him in the back of a car — there are lots of ways a person can be dangerous and you aren’t the most dangerous man I know.”
And now I’m in. She’s hurt, she wants to hurt back. Happy to help.
“You’re out for blood.” I stare over at her.
She nods.
“Alright then—” I pull her quickly back in towards me. “Arms up, Tiges. Let’s make him bleed.”
