If Only for a Moment

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic


If only he knew the kind of effect he had on her and how much of her belonged to him.



~



This is a original short story fiction. Please do not take it/steal it and claim it as your own. I own this short story since I wrote it.



I found the cover art online and I don't claim it as my own. Credits to the creator.

Submitted: October 06, 2017

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Submitted: October 06, 2017

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She tapped her fingernails on the bar counter as she hoisted herself up onto a bar stool. After getting the bartender’s attention and getting her drink order in, she pulled her cellphone out from her purse and reread her last text messages from him.

Her eyes narrowed the more messages she read. By the time she reached the last message, her drink had arrived. She tossed her phone back into her purse and didn’t bother to fetch it again for the rest of the night. She downed the shot that was placed in front of her before she requested another one.

To clear her thoughts, she breathed in deeply before she exhaled slowly. She had known the rules, the consequences, and everything else in between. However, when the moment came that their relationship was to end, she was winded by what had happened. It was done with though, and she knew she shouldn’t dwell on it. She didn’t want to think about the rule she had broken. She didn’t want to think of the consequence of breaking that rule. And most of all, she didn’t want to think that their relationship – or more like arrangement – had ended.

After downing another shot, she couldn’t help but think about why the rules were there in the first place. They were there so no one would get attached, so no one would get hurt. She almost scoffed at that. One of the rules for their arrangement was not to fall for him and she already knew she shouldn’t. And yet before she knew it nor could stop herself, she was faced with the cruel reality that she did in fact fall for him. In more ways than one. She was his, mind, body, and soul. But he wasn’t hers. Not in the way she wanted.

She ordered another shot before she bothered to give her surroundings her attention. The place was dark except for the lights that illuminated the bar and the few tables that lined the walls. It was fairly busy, but then again, it was a Friday night in the heart of downtown. It was late enough in the night that more than half of the place was full, but early enough that the college crowd hadn’t arrived yet. There were a few young people like herself already there, but mostly it was the older generation who stopped by for a drink after work.

By her third shot, an afterthought flashed through her head that maybe she should slow it down a bit. After a quick glance at her watch, she realized she probably shouldn’t blackout by eleven at the least tonight. The more she thought about her current situation, however, the more she just wanted to drink. So throwing that idea out the window, she ordered herself another drink. She knew that by this time and by how many she had to drink, she was bound to break down into tears at any moment if she didn’t think of something else. And if there was one thing she hated the most, it was drunk crying, especially in public. She instead blinked back her tears as she continued eyeing the place.

As she scanned the area, she made eye contact with a man all the way down on the other end of the bar. He was easy on the eyes and by the look he was giving her, he was interested in her. He raised his pint of beer as a toast from where he sitting while she raised her empty shot glass back at him. Shortly after this exchange, another shot was placed in front of her. Before she could ask where the shot came from, because she certainly didn’t order it herself, the bartender spoke up.

“From the gentleman down the bar,” he said and she nodded in understanding. Right as she was about to raise the shot and toast to the man, she found he was gone from his seat. She wondered where he went before somebody sat on the stool next to her and she didn’t need to wonder anymore.

“There’s really no right thing to say to a pretty girl like yourself at a bar without it coming off as a pick-up line,” the man started.

“I’m going to cut you off right now and tell you that anything you try to say, right or wrong, will come off as a pick-up line regardless,” she answered with a smile. He couldn’t help but laugh at that.

“I guess that’s true.”

“So how about we cut out the middle man?” She held out her hand and introduced herself. With a smile on his end, he shook her hand and told her his name.

“What’s the occasion?” he asked as he nodded towards her now empty shot glass. She shrugged. She really didn’t want to tell him anything too personal, but answered anyway.

“Just drinking.”

“I can see that,” he replied as he referred to her empty glass. “Can I buy you another shot?”

“Only if you’ll have one with me.”

He grinned at her and ordered two more shots. “So you’re quite a drinker, yeah? My type of girl,” he said as he eyed her up and down. She ignored his blatant staring and even let him place a hand on the small of her back as they took a shot together. “So what do you do for a living?” he asked after they finished off their shots.

She shook her head at him as she replied. “You don’t wanna know that.”

“Why?”

“I’ve been told it’s intimidating.”

“With such a cute face like yours, I highly doubt you can intimidate me.”

She almost wanted to roll her eyes at him, but rather she replied to him with an almost sickeningly sweet smile on her face. “I’m a repossession agent.” She noticed the look of surprise on his face.

“I’ve never heard of a girl repo man before. I didn’t think girls could do stuff like that.” The extremely sexist comment wasn’t lost on her. She didn’t bother to reply to that and instead hummed at him and ordered another round of shots on him while he continued to try to sweet talk her.

She found the man in front of her attractive enough, his flattery – albeit not the best kind – was a distraction from why she was out drinking in the first place. It wasn’t, however, enough for her to care about anything else that left his mouth from that point on. She was heartbroken, she was drunk, and most of all, she was in desperate need of a different kind of distraction. She stopped him in the middle of one of his many feeble attempts at flattery and placed a warm hand of his forearm.

“How about we get out of here?” she suggested. He glanced down at the soft hand on his arm and without questioning her or giving it another thought, he paid for their drinks. She stepped down from the stool, trying everything in her not to stumble or sway too much. When he was all squared away with their bill, she held onto his arm, partly to keep her balance and partly to feel how strong his arms were.

The two ended up back at his place which was a few blocks away from the bar. As soon as they walked through his apartment door, he was all over her. She welcomed his embrace, loving the feel of a strong man against her own body. As they pulled off each other's clothes the further they entered his apartment, she couldn’t help but feel as if this was wrong. It didn’t feel wrong in the sense as they were two consenting adults who could do whatever they damn well pleased. Instead, to her, it was more wrong that this man in her arms, this half naked man, wasn’t the man she wanted. This man wasn’t him. And he never could be. 

When they finally made it to his bedroom and into his bed, she realized there was no turning back now. She wanted to sleep with him. If only as a distraction. But the further they continued, the more she couldn’t push the feeling that everything about this man was just… wrong. His kisses were wrong. His touches and caresses were wrong. Even the sounds he made were wrong. Everything was completely wrong about this man, because he wasn’t him. And in that moment, she knew this wasn't the right kind of distraction for her.

~

Staring up at the off-white ceiling was almost soothing to her. His obnoxious snoring, however, was not. She half-heartedly glanced over at the clock on his bedside table. It had been less than an hour since they had finished and she was just waiting for him to finally fall asleep. She slowly crept off the bed, grabbing whatever clothes of hers she could find first. She dressed quickly and quietly so as not to wake him. Right after she grabbed her purse and was about to tiptoe out of there, she heard rustling and a low groan.

“Where are you going?” the man asked groggily as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. She froze in her spot, inwardly cringing and cursing herself for getting caught.

“I’m heading out,” she answered.

“It’s not even morning yet.”

“I have to get up early tomorrow.”

“Today, you mean,” he corrected her. She refrained from narrowing her eyes at him and instead clenched her hand tighter around her purse. She hated it when people corrected her even though they both knew damn well what she meant.

“Right, of course,” she replied instead.

“Come on, stay awhile. I’ll cook you breakfast in a couple of hours.” She bit the inside of her lip to keep from telling him that she didn’t want him to cook her breakfast, let alone have breakfast with him. She didn’t want to spend another minute with this man whom she considered a distraction from her heartbreak. And above of all, she just wanted to shower and get the smell of his cologne off her body and be with another certain man instead. “So?” he pressed. She had no words to offer him and instead tried to send him the most apologetic smile she could manage. “That’s it then? You’re just leaving?” he asked right as she turned to leave. She collected her thoughts and took a deep breath before she turned back to face him.

“Listen, it was… fun,” she said as she picked her words carefully. There was no nice way to say that it just didn’t cut it for her because he wasn’t what she really wanted. “And I’m sure it was fun for you too. But to be honest, it was just a one-time thing. I’m not looking for anything serious.”

Not with you, at least, she thought to herself.

With a blank and somewhat dejected expression on his face, she took that as her cue to quickly turn and leave his room and apartment. She slipped her heels back on as she walked down the hallway of the apartment building. When she made it into the elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor, she ran her fingers through her bed hair. She scrunched up her nose when she caught a whiff of more of his cologne. She didn’t notice before when she was drunk, but now in a slightly more sober state, she found the scent of his cologne way too strong and musky. When she began to think of the kind of scent she liked – a woodsy smell with a slight hint of sweetness – she was hit with the familiar feeling of nostalgia. But with the nostalgia, she was also hit with a twinge of pain that began in the middle of her chest and eventually made its way down to the pit of her stomach and throughout the rest of her body, leaving her feeling miserable. And the lingering scent of cologne didn’t help.

When the elevator doors opened, she exited and tried to leave the apartment building as quickly as she could.

~

When she wasn’t working, she had resigned herself to taking prolonged naps throughout the day, only being awake long enough to eat and to stay hydrated. A text message on her cell phone woke her up from one of those naps. She glanced at the time and it was nearly nine at night. She grabbed her phone from her bedside table and had to let her eyes adjust to the bright screen of her phone in her dark room before she could read the text.

Drinks at Dillon’s?

It was a message from him, the same man who filled her thoughts and dreams for as long as she had known him. She bit her lip as she thought about his text. Though their arrangement had ended, their friendship hadn’t. And having a couple of drinks with a friend couldn’t hurt. She ignored that nagging feeling in her stomach that told her going out with him so soon after he had ended things was a bad idea. Instead, she quickly replied to his text, got out of bed and hopped into the shower to get ready.

The drive to their favorite bar was a short one. In fact, she barely even remembered getting ready or driving to the place for that matter. Everything was a blur and merged into one single thought. She was going to see him. And she didn’t realize how much she wanted that until she walked through the bar doors.

She found him sitting at a table near the back wall. He had a drink in front of him with another one across from him next to an empty stool. She walked towards him and tried to calm her racing heart.

“Who’s the other drink for? Expecting someone?” she asked him.

“Of course, I’m expecting you.” He grinned and she was stunned momentarily. Even a simple sentence like that from him could leave her speechless. She quickly snapped out of it and slid onto the empty bar stool.

“What a smooth talker,” she replied. “What’d you get me?” She didn’t realize how dry her throat had become until the drink was right in front of her.

“Your favorite.”

“Are they the bartender’s portions or my portions?”

“Your portions, of course; Jack with a dash of coke.”

“You know me so well.” She took a gulp of her drink without hesitation.

“Rough day at work?” he asked after she placed her drink back down on the table.

More like rough week, she thought to herself.

She didn’t want to think of what happened last week nor of what she did with a random guy she met at the particular bar that the two of them just happened to be sitting in at the moment.

“Yeah, you can say that,” she replied instead.

“At this pace, you’re gonna need another drink. Be right back.” He stood and walked towards the bar. She didn’t bother to stop him nor did she want to. She just continued to drink the dark liquid in front of her.

The rest of the night passed quickly and before she knew it, she was draped against his arm with his jacket over her shoulders and her purse in his hands. After they had a couple more drinks, he suggested that they go back to his place. She knew exactly what he meant by that and didn’t bother to remind him that just last week he had told her their little arrangement between the two of them should end. Rather, she let him call them a cab and they made their way to his apartment.

They walked down the hallway of his apartment building and the closer they got to his apartment door, the more sober she got and the realization of what was to come crossed her mind. When they were merely a few feet from his door, she slowed her pace. He noticed this and stopped his own pace to turn back around and face her.

“You okay?” he asked as he placed a warm hand on her waist. She scrunched her eyebrows up and bit her lip as she thought of what to say.

“Um, yeah. I just…” she paused and shifted her weight to her other foot.

“If you don’t want to do this, we don’t have to. This is completely up to you.”

She nodded at him absentmindedly. “It’s just, I’m thinking.”

“About?”

“Just thinking.” She didn’t want to tell him that she wanted more than just sex from him. She had no idea how to even go about telling him that.

“Listen,” he started as he placed his other hand on her cheek. “if you don’t want to do this, I understand. I know what I said last week.”

She didn’t want to be reminded of what he said, but how could she forget? His words were practically burned into her mind. Let’s end this, yeah? I don’t want to lead you on and I feel like we should quit this before real feelings start, you know? If only he had known her feelings for him had started long before they had first slept together.

“But doing this every so often won’t hurt, right?” She would have scoffed at him if she didn’t feel a pang run through her chest at the word hurt. “I’m going to head in now and tidy up a few things. If you want to come inside and keep going, then my door is unlocked. If you don’t, then I’ll understand.” He didn’t wait for a response but instead leaned down and kissed her. When he pulled away, he turned and walked the few short steps to his apartment and entered, shutting the door behind him.

She was left alone in the hallway, his jacket still on her shoulders and her purse now in her own hands when he handed it back after they got out of the cab. The familiar scent of him lingered on his jacket and flooded her senses as she tried to think things through.

She could leave right now. She had her purse and she could just place his jacket on the doorknob. She could turn and leave and not enter his apartment. She could save herself another few hours of ecstasy and then days of regret and heartache afterwards. She could have some pride and dignity for herself and remember that what she wanted for herself wasn’t what he wanted.

Then she imagined what would happen if she walked through that door. And knowing him, she knew exactly that what she imagined in her head was exactly what was going to happen in real life. If she walked through that door, she would give into his desires and god knows it was her desires too. But merely wanting it didn’t necessarily mean she should have it. Her thoughts flashed back to her one-night stand and she could only cringe at the thought of how the two situations were similar in terms of very bad ideas.

She couldn’t tell what was worse though. Sleeping with someone she loved but who didn’t love her back or mindlessly sleeping with someone she had no feelings for whatsoever. Either way, she thought both options were shitty and found herself feeling dirty and used.

And in that vulnerable state, she also found that she couldn’t care less. If only he knew the kind of effect he had on her and how much of her belonged to him. She didn’t care what happened next as long as she was with him. As long as she could be in his arms, if only for a moment.

She inhaled as she walked forward and grabbed the doorknob. She exhaled as she turned it and entered his apartment.


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