CHAPTER ELEVEN

Stella

I remind myself Will has broken my heart before. I know how to survive this and yet it feels new and different somehow. Betrayal is a hard pill to swallow and tonight getting the news about his new girlfriend was like being given a handful of misshapen pills and being asked to swallow them with a glass full of sand.

What three pints of beer couldn't do, Byron managed in just a few minutes. I wanted the bubbly yellow beverage to wash away the dense, heavy sand from where it sat in my gut, but it hadn't. Somehow a comforting, judgment-free hug opened the lock inside and allowed the sand to fall so my lungs could expand and the pain in my chest could finally be relieved. Throwing the growlers had elevated that relief into euphoria...or maybe three tall beers are too many for me.

"Come back inside with me while I get the helmets and my sweatshirt. I don't want to leave you out here alone." Byron steps toward me, seamlessly slipping his big hand into my small one. Without so much as a backward glance, he tugs me towards the brewery and the crowd that is now spilling out into the lot.

The room is packed with people and I almost lose his hand as one patron backs into me, but Byron stops and pulls me even closer. With a key from a ring in his pocket, he opens his office door and shuts it behind us. I stand just inside and watch as he pulls two helmets from beneath his desk and a hoodie from over the back of his chair.

I'm already anticipating the rush of being on his motorcycle again. He leaves the helmets sitting on top of a large stack of papers, multiple post-its marking the pages. The reader in me wants to glance at the words to see if it's a contract or a story, but I fight the urge. I expect him to slip his hoodie on, but instead he moves towards me and holds it up. I lift my purse by the strap and set it on the floor.

His sweatshirt is soft and comforting as it falls over me, a knitted weight grounding me somehow. "Won't you be cold?" I ask.

"I'll be fine," he answers, scooping up the helmets and lifting his chin towards the door. I pick up my purse and sling it over my neck and shoulder so it's secure on the trip home.

I don't miss the way many eyes follow us back through the brewery as we make our way to his motorcycle outside. His hand is suddenly in mine again as we get bottle necked in the lines waiting for their beers. I try to push out the relief I feel having someone to hold onto again. It's a secure feeling I haven't realized I miss until I felt his strong fingers wrapped around mine.

I watch him closely as he helps secure my helmet and then slips his on. Once more he climbs effortlessly onto his motorcycle and extends his hand to help me. It's cold outside, but his hand is warm. My body slides up against his and my thighs instinctively squeeze around him. My heart stutters in my chest, but the rest of my body is calm and pliant. We fit together as if we were made to ride like this.

Byron reaches back and rests his hand on my leg, and then pulls me even closer and the move feels so possessive my skin instantly heats. I feel the flush run up beneath his hoodie, spreading across my chest and neck before warming my face. My arms wrap around him and any shyness I'd felt before is obliterated when I feel him suck in a big breath at my touch. My palms explore the hard muscles beneath them, moving torturously slow until they find their home near his heart.

I'm already feeling overwhelmed with the sensation of his back against my chest when he fires up the engine and the low vibration revs up the sensitivity of my skin. I feel its pulse along every nerve and especially in the places his body meets mine. It's a delicious burn and I close my eyes to allow myself to experience it in all its glory. The tips of my fingers dig into his chest slightly as I fight the urge to run my own palms along his strong thighs or allow them to dip beneath his shirt so I can feel his skin.

He pulls out into the night traffic and we zip along the crowded streets weaving in and out of the cars like a rebellious balloon when you let the air escape in a rush. At each stop, he extends his legs and adjusts the heavy metal motorcycle beneath us while we wait. The movement keeps the nerves alive with new input and by the time we pull up outside my apartment building I've practically melted into him. My fingers rake across him one last time before I set him free.

He lifts his helmet first and his eyes pierce mine through my visor. There is so much heat my knees get weak and I'm not sure if it's the buzz of the ride or the look that makes me wobble. His fingers work my strap and then the cool night air hits my face when he pulls the helmet off.

It's quiet between us, only our gaze keeping us close. "I'll walk you up," he tells me, his voice thicker and more commanding than I've heard from him before. I nod my approval and spin on my heels, feeling the ability to take in a full breath for the first time since climbing on behind him.

I unlock the door and turn to thank him. Somehow the words won't reach my mouth. They are swallowed up by the thumping of my heart and the push of my pulse through my veins. His free hand meets my cheek, his fingers slipping into my hair. I want this so badly. He hesitates for a split second, an unspoken consent before his lips meet my lips.

His mouth takes mine. I'm drawn to him as he pulls me closer. My hands tangle in his shirt, dragging him into my apartment as his tongue gently finds mine. I sigh past the kiss, wanting more and yet feeling like it's too much all at once. He drops the helmets and closes the door behind us. His hands are all over me now, tucking beneath my ass to bring me against his body, then releasing me so he can let his palms glide along my ribs.

I run my palms down his cheeks first, loving the scratch of his jaw beneath my soft skin. I have to brace myself against his heaving chest before I pass out. My lips trap his, releasing them slowly as we finally pull away and gasp for air.

"Fuck," he huffs, brushing his fingers through his messy hair.

I laugh softly, fixing my shirt from where he'd pulled it up in his race to explore. I'm already looking forward to the next time his hands are on me..

"I'll see you tomorrow," he says.

I feel like I have whiplash. It wasn't at all what I was expecting him to say. I don't get a chance to tell him that though because he's already out my door and on his way back to his motorcycle. Saying he fled would be an understatement.

I stare at the door for a while. His absence quickly reminds me I'm alone again. This is not how I saw my life a year ago. Byron is the first man I've kissed since Will, and I thought when it finally happened it would feel better than it does. Maybe if he had stayed and hadn't abandoned me so easily it would have been different. Hasn't everyone been telling me to move on and stop living in the dream world where Will is someone he clearly isn't. He's never going to be the guy I need—just the one I want.

I kick off my shoes, listening to what I think must be his motorcycle idling in the parking lot. I head to my kitchen for a bottle of water and some aspirin. I try to talk myself out of reaching for my phone. I've been avoiding social media for a few weeks, the anxiety of signing on is just too much for me to deal with at times. I guess my fear that I'll see him happy with someone else is going to happen eventually.

After taking a few sips of the cold water, I slide my finger across my phone screen and search for the icons that used to bring me joy. I loved scrolling through the feeds for updates on my friends and family. Now the terror of being caught off guard by something that will cause me so much pain has led to me avoiding it at all costs. Not tonight though. Tonight I'm going to just get it over with.

I don't have enough courage to go directly to his profile. Instead I slowly scan the latest posts, hoping to get through without being hurt again. It takes less than a minute to see his face on my screen. He's laughing and I immediately feel jealous that I've missed this day in his life. I haven't seen Will happy in a really long time. It's interesting how much it feels like a betrayal even though I tell myself it's not. He's allowed to be happy without me.

It takes a few more swipes to see her. She looks about our age, but that's all I can find in common with her. She's a doctor like Will and I stare at the image of them squished together for a selfie in front of the hospital. Will hated selfies. Maybe that's different now too. So many things hurt after you find yourself separated from a person you thought would be a daily part of the rest of your life.

I finally hear the motorcycle pull out of the lot. I'm curious what took him so long, but now I just want to be done with today. I keep my phone in my hand as I head for my bedroom. I lay down on the bed and finish my internet stalking. Her account is private, but his is open to me since we're friends. The thought makes me chuckle again. Friends? Maybe not as close as I had liked to think we could be.

I already know what's coming. It's a weakness I have found myself swimming in many times since we broke up. To prevent myself from texting him I shut my phone off and tuck it into the top dresser drawer. It takes me a full ten minutes of sitting on the edge of my bed to convince myself I need to leave the room or I'll cave and pull the only life-line to him I have out and text something I'll want to take back tomorrow. Looks like I'll be sleeping on the couch tonight.