Resolution: Exposure (A Resolution Pact Short Story) Read online

  “Hey.” His eyes light up the second they land on me, and a ball of nerves explodes in my belly.

  “Hey.” I can’t help but smile when I spot two takeout cups in his hand. “You brought coffee?”

  “Well, no. I didn’t know what you’d want, so I got you a hot chocolate. I figured I couldn’t go wrong with that.”

  “You thought right. Thank you so much,” I say, reaching for the warm cup. My fingers slide over his as I take it from him, and I suck in a sharp breath, my eyes flying up to his. I didn’t appreciate how tall he was the other night when I was in my heeled boots, but tonight he makes me feel tiny. He’s well over a foot taller than I am.

  His stare captures mine and we’re locked together for a long minute. “It’s good to see you,” he says eventually, breaking the silence and tension between us. “You look beautiful, but…you’re covered in glitter.” He reaches out and runs his thumb dangerously close to my bottom lip. I fight to keep my eyes open and not lean into his touch.

  “That’s nothing unusual.” It comes out as a shaky whisper and my cheeks heat knowing he can read everything I’m feeling.

  “It’s cute.”

  “It’s cute?” I ask with a laugh.

  “No…you’re cute.”

  I’ve no clue where to look, so instead I turn on my heel and begin walking down the sidewalk. It’s only a second later that he steps up beside me, easily eating up the distance I put between us with his long legs.

  “You don’t take compliments well, do you?”

  “I guess I’m just not used to receiving them.”

  “Every woman should be complimented, Harper.”

  “Not this one. The best I get every day is a look from Pixie that tells me she’s grateful I remembered to feed her.”

  “Pixie?”

  “My cat.”

  “Ah, I didn’t have you pegged for a crazy cat lady.”

  “Guilty as charged.”

  Just like yesterday, my nerves are soon forgotten and we fall into an easy conversation about what we’ve got to do. Sharon put forth the task of getting some shots that experiment with exposure lengths. Our first stop is Times Square to see what we can do with the lights before we head over to the Brooklyn Bridge to make the most of the fast-moving headlights.

  Before I know it, we’ve been walking around the city with our cameras in hand for over three hours.

  “Wow, it’s late,” Gavin says over my shoulder when he spots me checking the time on my phone. “You hungry?”

  “A little.”

  “What do you fancy?”

  “I’m easy.”

  “Is that right?” he asks, placing his giant, warm palm to my lower back. I can hear the smile in his voice and I groan in embarrassment. “Hey,” he says, wrapping his fingers around my wrist and gently tugging on it so I have no choice but to turn towards him. “Stop overthinking this.”

  “I’m not. I’m—” My words are cut off when his lips land on mine. Shock renders me motionless for a few seconds, but the warmth of his hand landing on the side of my neck and his fingers threading into my hair have me moving—or my lips moving, rather.

  I lean into him, my lips parting when his tongue teases my bottom lip. Lust shoots straight to my core and my temperature races. We stand on the sidewalk, our lips connected.

  I expect more, so when he suddenly pulls back and rests his forehead against mine I can’t help the disappointment flooding through me. “I’m sorry, I—”

  In a move that’s totally unlike me, I stretch up on my toes, wrap my hand around his neck and pull him back down to me.

  That small taste was nowhere near enough.

  The rest of New York fades into the background as his tongue dances with mine again. His hands slide from my neck until they come to rest on my waist. He pulls me closer to him.

  It feels like it’s over way too soon when he pulls back once again. My breath catches at the dark and hungry look in his eyes. I sense he wants to say something, but for some reason he’s holding it back.

  “What?” I ask, regretting it instantly in case he’s about to apologize. The last thing I need right now is him regretting this. It might only be the second week of January, but I’m already predicting that the kiss we’ve just shared might be one of the best things to happen to me this year.

  “It’s snowing.” Reaching out, he wipes a snowflake from my nose. I was so lost to him I’d forgotten about the cold and totally missed the white flakes falling around us. “Let’s go get food.”

  “There’s an amazing Chinese takeaway around the corner. If you’re okay with takeout?” I ask quickly, second-guessing myself.

  “As long as it’s with you.” It’s cheesy as hell, but I swoon, anyway. “Your place isn’t far from here, right? We could…” He trails off, waiting.

  “Sure. Let’s go.” Now that he’s no longer touching me, the cold’s starting to creep in. I can’t think of anything better than having him sitting on the other end of my couch…or on my end of the couch.

  As we step away from our spot on the sidewalk, Gavin slides his hand into mine. The gesture makes all sorts of tingles and emotions bubble up within me.

  “Wow, you’d never guess you worked from home,” Gavin says the second we step into my apartment.

  “I’m sorry. If I knew, I’d have tidied up.”

  “Stop, Harper.” Turning his mesmerizing eyes on me, he steps closer. Bumping back against the closed door, Gavin closes the space between us. His lips find mine once again. I’m vaguely aware of the sound of the takeout bag hitting the floor before his hands thread into my hair.

  “What the hell is that noise?” Gavin asks, his lips brushing against mine.

  Looking down at the same time, we both take in Pixie with her hackles up. That’s not unusual—she’s not particularly fond of guests—but I’m not expecting her to be growling the way she is.

  “Your cat knows it’s not a dog, right?” Gavin asks, not taking his eyes from Pixie.

  “No, she thinks she’s human.”

  “Is she goes to hurt me?”

  “She’s all bark. Just ignore her.”

  “Look at the way she’s staring at me. It’s like she’s planning the best way to kill me.”

  “She’s just a cat.”

  “Hmm…” he mumbles. They both continue their stare-off.

  “I’ll go sort this out, then.” I rescue the Chinese food from the floor and head over to my little kitchen to find some plates.

  After a few minutes, Pixie usually heads back to her spot by the window. Not today. She refuses to allow Gavin out of her sight.

  “I think she’s being protective. It’s not very often I have a man here.”

  “No?”

  Embarrassment floods my cheeks.

  “Do think she’ll try to gauge my eyes out if I get any closer?” A wicked smile twitches at the corner of his lips as he looks between me and my cat.

  “That’s a risk you’ll have to take.”

  “I think it’s worth it.” Taking the empty plate from my lap, he places it on the coffee table in front of us before pinning me back against the couch with his hands at either side of my head.

  “You think it’s worth it?” I ask, an eyebrow raised in amusement.

  “I know so.”

  He lowers his head, and his lips connect with the edge of my jaw. He kisses a trail to my lips. My eyes flicker shut, and I have to just pray that Pixie doesn’t launch herself at Gavin’s back while he’s distracted.

  His tongue caresses and tangles with mine. His hands start to wander. I’m wearing a shirt similar to when we met, and his fingers start tugging at the fabric as he tries to undo the buttons.

  Anxiety ripples through me. He must sense it because he leans towards my ear and whispers, “You’re beautiful.”

  Gripping my hip, Gavin pulls me down further on the couch and settles between my thighs. He sits up, reaches behind him and pulls his t-shirt over his head. My gaze immediately
lowers to take in his muscular chest. My mouth waters, and I stare at the inches of taut, toned, and tattooed skin before me.

  My hips roll of their own accord, and the feeling of his hardness against me causes goosebumps to rise across my skin.

  “Shit, Harper.” Falling back down on top of me, he kisses and nips across my collarbones and down towards the swell of my breasts.

  My chest is heaving, my breasts straining against the confines of my bra. I’m desperate for more of his touch. But just when I think I’m going to get what I need, his cell starts to ring.

  “Fuck.”

  He jumps up from the sofa, and I watch as he pulls it from his pocket while simultaneously rearranging himself. My thighs clench with the knowledge that I’ve caused that reaction, but it’s soon forgotten when he starts speaking.

  “Shit. Okay, I’m on my way right now. Tell her I’ll be there soon.”

  My heart drops and I pull my shirt closed to cover up as Gavin tugs his shirt back on and reaches for his coat.

  “I’m sorry. I need to go.” His hands go up into his hair and he rakes his fingers through it. He looks like he’s in pain. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I can’t do this kind of shit anymore.”

  “What—” I go to question him but I get cut off.

  “I’m sorry. I’ve got to go. My daughter’s sick.” My chin drops, but he shocks me even more by disappearing through the front door without another word.

  “And he just up and left?” Annalise asks when I eventually call her back. She’s been blowing up my phone for days, trying to find out how my first class went. For obvious reasons, I’d been ignoring her.

  I feel like an idiot. I met Gavin once before inviting him to my place, and I let him dry hump me on my couch. I didn’t even think to ask if he was single. I’d just assumed he was a free agent when he agreed to spend Friday night with me.

  “Yes.”

  “Because his daughter was ill.”

  “Yes,” I snap. Hearing the details repeated back to me doesn’t make any of this less humiliating.

  “But he sent you flowers to apologize, along with his phone number.”

  “I know, but that doesn’t mean anything.”

  “Of course it does. It means he wants to make up for it. And plus, you think he’d hand over his number if he wasn’t single?”

  “But he’s got a daughter.”

  “Harper, it’s two-thousand and nineteen. There are millions of single dads out there.”

  “I guess,” I mutter, knowing she’s probably right, but I still cling to my assumption that it was all too good to be true and he’s actually married or something.

  “Well, it doesn’t really matter now because you’ll be seeing him tonight, won’t you?” I know the slight warning in her voice is her attempt to stop me from bailing on my New Year’s resolution after only one week.

  “It seems that way. Maybe he won’t show up.”

  “Nope. I’ll put money on him sitting there waiting for you.”

  “You are way too positive about this. Most men are douchebags, so what makes you think Gavin is different?”

  “Just a feeling.”

  My best friend’s positivity over a guy she’s never met—over a guy I hardly know—doesn’t really help my nerves as the minutes tick by before I have to leave for my second class.

  My plan is to be early. To be sitting there, prepared for him to walk through the door. But, as usual, I end up running horrendously late after losing track of time while getting ready. I didn’t help that I had to clean up a hairball that Pixie insisted on hacking up in the middle of my bed.

  I intended to just pull on a pair of jeans and a simple shirt, but as I stood there looking in the mirror I made the stupid decision to put forth a little more effort. By the time I push the door to the classroom open, I’m wearing a heavy knit sweater over a tartan skirt and heeled boots. And, because once again I’m the last to arrive, every head in the room turns my way when they hear the door open. But there’s only one set of eyes I feel burn into me as I keep my gaze downcast and make my way towards our desk.

  “Good evening, Harper,” Sharon sings. She sets about starting the class immediately.

  Gavin’s eyes stay locked on me as I unbutton my coat and hang it over the back of my chair. My choice of outfit feels totally inappropriate all of a sudden.

  He says nothing, but the air between us is thick with tension. That is, until the second I’ve sat down. He leans over, tucks my hair behind my ear, and whispers, “You look gorgeous. I was worried you weren’t going to come.”

  Squaring my shoulders, I focus on what Sharon is saying to the class. After a few seconds, Gavin seems to get the message because his leans away, his heat no longer warming my side.

  “Grab your cameras. Let's go and see what you’ve managed to capture,” Sharon says. Chairs get pushed back and everyone starts moving towards the dark room.

  “Harper.” Warm fingers wrap around my wrist, stopping me from following the others. “Please, I need to explain.”

  “We need to go and develop these photos.” Tugging my arm from his grasp, I pick up my camera and follow behind everyone else.

  It’s a minute or two before he joins me in the dark room. The second he steps foot inside the room, the air grows thick. Every breath is hard work, even more so when he resumes his spot beside me.

  “You don’t need to make a big deal out of this.” His hand slides around my back until he grabs onto my hip and pulls me up against him. I almost sigh with pleasure when his hard muscles press against my soft curves, but at the last minute I remember what happened.

  “I think I do. Can we just concentrate on this, please?” I remove myself from his grasp, regretting it instantly as coldness surrounds me.

  “They look good. Well done, you two,” Sharon says, walking between each couple to see how their images turned out.

  I go to respond but Gavin chooses that moment to press the length of himself against my back so he can look over my shoulder at the images laid out before me. We’re still in the dark so we can’t see them all that clearly, but they do look promising, more so than some of the others I’ve spotted around the room.

  “Thanks. We had fun getting them.” His voice rumbles over my shoulder, his breath racing over the sensitive skin of my neck, causing goosebumps to cover my entire body. His hand comes to rest on my waist, and images of what we got up to only a few days ago fill my head. I will them away, focusing on keeping my breathing steady as butterflies erupt in my stomach.

  Large hands slide to my hips before he turns me around and presses me up against his front. His erection presses into my stomach as one of his hands tips my chin, forcing me to look at him.

  “We make a good team, Harper. Just hear me out, yeah?”

  I’m not sure if it’s the darkness surrounding us that gives me the confidence, or plain stupidity, depending on how you look at it, but I soon find myself agreeing.

  The next hour passes slower than I ever thought possible. Now that I’ve agreed to talk to him, he’s upped the ante with his little teasing touches.

  He’s driving me crazy.

  The second Sharon finishes explaining what she’d like us all to do before the next class, Gavin slides his fingers through mine and practically drags me from the building.

  “Fuck. I didn’t think that was going to end.” He slows to a stop just around the corner and pushes me up against the wall.

  “Gavin, I said I’d listen. I didn’t—” My words are cut off by his lips. I want to fight, stay strong, and hear his story, but the feeling of his mouth on mine and his body pressed against me is too much. I sag against him, giving him everything I have.

  “Sorry,” he whispers when he eventually pulls back. “I couldn’t wait any longer.”

  “I…I need you to explain before anything else happens.”

  “Of course. Come on.”

  I expect him to start walking toward my apartment, so I’m shocked
when we head in the opposite direction.

  The tension crackles between us but no words are spoken on the short journey to another apartment building.

  Gavin pushes me through the entrance with his hand at the small of my back. Together, we walk up to the fourth floor.

  “You’re back earlier than I was—oh, hi. You must be Harper,” a pretty blonde woman says when we walk into the kitchen.

  “Uh…” Looking between the woman and Gavin, my brain backfires on me.

  “Harper, this is my sister, Gabby. Gabs, this is Harper.” But it’s clear she knows exactly who I am. And she looks pretty damn happy about my appearance, if her wide smile and slightly damp eyes are anything to go by. “Everything okay?” he asks.

  “Yes. Perfect as always. I’ll leave you two to it.”

  After thanking his sister and seeing her out, Gavin comes back into the kitchen and pours us two glasses of wine.

  “You like wine, right?” He suddenly seems unsure of himself.

  “Yes, I like wine.”

  Taking the glass he offers me, my other hand gets taken and I’m pulled over to a fireplace at the other end of the room.

  “This is Evie.” He points to a series of photographs of a cute little toddler. “She’s three, and she’s my world.” I knew he had a daughter but the knowledge doesn’t stop my breath from catching as I stare at her sweet little face.

  I stand and stare at each of the photographs, noting how Evie has her dad’s eyes and features. But it’s not until I come to a photo of an obviously younger Gavin with a blonde woman that I say anything. “And who’s this?”

  “Emily. Evie’s mom. She…she died while having her.”

  “Shit,” I say, gasping. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay. Well, it’s not, but it is what it is.”