Arizona Heat (12 page)

Reagan jumps backward a few feet and I hop off the counter, readjusting my dress. We are both breathing heavily and I glance down at the incriminating bottles of hairspray and cosmetics on the floor. My hand reaches up to touch my swollen lips and I know we are very busted.

The door swings open and group of about ten people, including the band, enter the room. I instinctively move closer to Reagan, like a lifeline, as the man who I recognize as the lead singer approaches. He is covered in sweat and there is something cocky about his smile.

“You’re the last person I expected to find here,
”
he beams. Reagan leaves my side to engage in a bro-like handshake with the singer and I’m left standing alone and very confused.

“For some reason my, uh, friend here likes your music so I figured I would indulge her.”

“Whatever fuels your denial, dude. If you wanted some tips from a
true
professional, you could have just called.”

Why is Reagan ball busting with the lead singer of Hopeless?

“I just have one question. Who has an AMA and two Grammys?
”
Reagan asks with a cocky smile. It’s a side of him I haven't seen and it’s kind of adorable.

“Last I checked we have three AMAs and a Grammy. So you lose.”

“Josie, what do you think? Is an AMA better than a Grammy or are Grammys worth the equivalent of, like, five AMAs?
”
Reagan asks, turning to me.

“Uh,
”
I stutter.

“It’s okay, you won’t hurt Mike’s feelings,
”
Reagan says with a conspiratorial smile.

“A Grammy is worth at least five AMAs,
”
I say, trying to keep my voice as level as possible.

“She’s just agreeing with you because she doesn't know me yet,
”
Mike says confidently as he saunters over, putting an arm around my shoulder, and leads me to one of the love seats. I instinctively try to break free from his arm but he holds on tightly, forcing me to sit next to him on the sofa.

His arm rests on the back of the cushion and he positions himself uncomfortably close to me. I lean against the opposing arm rest in an attempt to distance us as much as possible without being rude. Now that Mike is close to me, all I can smell is sweat and cigarettes.

The rest of the people in the room follow suit, taking seats or leaning against various surfaces. Mike clearly runs the show here. Reagan positions himself as far away from everyone as possible, leaning against the wall with a slight scowl. His eyes are fixated on Mike as he recounts the success of the show. Mike’s fellow band members look bored and annoyed, but everyone else take turns shouting encouragements and boasting excitedly.

I scan the room and my eyes fall on the only other woman here. Her gaze is focused directly at me and she looks as if she can’t decide on whether she wants to slice my throat or cry. I try to figure out what her deal is but her piercing gaze forces me to look away.

I beg Reagan to notice my “save me
”
face but his eyes never leave Mike, whose rant is in full swing. After an aeon of waiting for him to shut up and Reagan to notice me, the door opens and some teenage girls with VIP lanyards walk in. One of them gasps and the others giggle when they realize who is in the room.

I take the momentary distraction to jump up from the couch and walk over to Reagan as quickly and inconspicuously as possible. Mike looks annoyed but recovers quickly to greet the fan girls. For the first time since I met him, Reagan looks genuinely angry. He takes my hand a little too roughly and drags me toward the door.

“Hey, you guys aren't leaving already?
”
Mike asks.

“Yeah we have to get going pretty early in the morning,
”
Reagan answers, sounding surprisingly level but his face says otherwise.

“Let’s get together before you leave,
”
Mike suggests.

“Next time,
”
Reagan yells from the doorway before dragging me through the now vacant United Center. I trail behind him, trying to free my wrist from his grasp. As I twist and turn my arm, he holds tighter and I don't think he realizes what he’s doing.

“Reagan,
”
I say, trying to catch his attention. He pushes through the double doors and we are greeting by the cool night air. The streetlights illuminate the sidewalk as he leads me in the opposite direction of the parking garage. I call his name a few more times but he is stuck in a trance.

“You’re hurting me,
”
I say loudly as I can without drawing attention to us. He stops abruptly, immediately releasing my wrist, and turns to face me with a horrified expression. His hands find the red marks on my arm and his face twists with disgust. He gently runs a finger over them before bringing my wrist to his lips and kissing it. I feel my breath hitch at the intimate gesture and my mouth falls open a little when his eyes meet mine.

“I’m so sorry,
”
he whispers.

“You didn't really hurt me, you’re just walking in the wrong direction,
”
I smirk. Reagan looks around to assess our location and after a beat, he laughs the most beautiful laugh I’ve ever heard. He walks in front of me and pats his shoulder to signal I hop on. With a running start I leap onto his back and he nearly falls over but to his credit, he plays it off like it wasn't even a struggle. He carries me down the sidewalk in the correct direction and I relish the comfort of my legs wrapped around him.

“I really am sorry,
”
he says after a few minutes of silence.

“Don’t be, but why were you so mad?”

“I didn't like the way Mike had his arm around you,
”
Reagan admits without hesitation. His straightforwardness still surprises me.

“It’s not like I wanted him to.”

“You know that woman who was in the room?”

“Yeah?”

“That’s his wife.”

“His
wife
?”

“Yup.”

“How is he married? He’s kind of gross.”

Reagan laughs and tightens his grip around my legs. “They were high school sweethearts. She’s been there since day one. She gave up college and a career to follow him.”

“That would be kind of a cute story if he wasn't an ass.”

He laughs again. “Mike will bang anything that gives him a second glance and he doesn't even try to be coy about it.”

“That explains why she was giving me dirty looks.”

“Guys like that really piss me off. They act like a successful music career makes it okay to do whatever they want without thinking about people’s feelings or the consequences of their actions. We’re all made of the same organic material and someday when we’re gone, we all decompose into the same pile of bones.”

“Dark,
”
I say, suppressing the thoughts of impending death. “But I love that you feel that way.”

“I just don't think anything makes one person better than another. We’re born, we die, and make choices in between.”

“And after we die?
”
I ask.

“I don’t know,
”
he admits. “But I hope there’s something waiting for us on the other side.”

I can see Reagan start to struggle so I hop off his back and walk the rest of the way. We decide to stay in the parking garage for the night and leave early in the morning since we paid for a full day. I notice most of the spaces are cleared out and it’s quiet. Once safely inside the camper, I lock the door and chug a much needed bottle of water.

The air in the room changes and I notice Reagan leaning against the wall watching me. I remember our last moments alone together and shiver. What felt so level a minute ago has spiked in a nanosecond. I set the bottle down on the counter and wait for Reagan to make a move, unsure of where we stand. He stakes a slow step in my direction and in two long strides his body is flush with mine.

My heart beats out of my chest and my eyes widen in anticipation. Reagan raises his hands, placing them on either side of my face, forcing my back against the tiny refrigerator. He rests his elbows on my shoulders and cradles my head. I absentmindedly run my hands from his waist to his biceps and lean my hips into him. His lips find mine and we kiss each other softly. I feel a fire rise and fall with my chest and my head feels pleasantly dizzy.

It doesn't even cross my mind to stop and worry about what this means because nothing has ever felt so right. My hands push against his chest and he stumbles back with a look of surprise. I move away from fridge and lead him toward the bed, shoving him onto it with force that even surprises myself. Reagan looks amused as I crawl over him and straddle his hips. I sit for a moment and wonder if this feels so good because I haven't been touched like this in so long or if it’s just Reagan.

He sits up and wraps his arms around my waist, hiking my dress over my hips. I find the hem of his shirt and swiftly raise it over his head, letting his necklace fall back over his tan chest. Before I can register what’s happening, my dress is ripped over my head and I let out a quiet laugh.

“What’s so funny?
”
Reagan asks with a sideways smirk.

“Your eagerness,
”
I giggle.

“I don’t like to waste time,
”
he says, leaning back like he is getting a better look. My legs are spread apart over his jeans and my arms are propped up on his abdomen, pushing my breasts together. It must be an interesting view. “You are so beautiful,
”
he whispers in my ear, before unclasping the back of my bra and tossing it aside. In one swift motion, we switch positions and I’m on my back with Reagan pressing against me between my legs. His lips crash into mine with unrestrained fervor as his hands roam everything within reach. He finds the hem of my panties, pushing them aside to slip a finger inside me. I cry out with a shudder and absorb the raw pleasure. My body begs for release but I fight it. I’m not done with him yet.

My hands eagerly work at his belt buckle and the button of his jeans. Reagan lets out a low groan as I slip my hand beneath the hem of his boxers and over him. He makes a carnal noise, one usually reserved for animals, and holds my hands over my head while he grinds his hips into me. I struggle against his strong arms and moan, unable to contain my want for him, needing more.

Reagan releases my hands to tear my panties down my legs, leaving my completely naked and unashamed. He pauses to look at me, chest rising and falling, like I am the only thing in the world that matters. It’s an expression I’ve never seen before and it makes me feel like a goddess. Our eyes never leave each other as he frees himself from his jeans and reaches into a duffel bag in the corner to produce a condom. He rolls it on and climbs back over me, pausing for only a second for my reassurance. I look into his deep brown eyes and feel like I am exactly where I am meant to be. With a slight nod we cross over the point of no return into sweet oblivion.

I lay with my head on Reagan’s chest and his arm around me. He was rough, passionate, and sex with anyone else is now ruined for the rest of my life. It was the kind of thing you only read about; life altering and earth shattering. We haven't said anything yet. Reagan has been twirling my blonde curls around in his fingers for about ten minutes, probably waiting for me to say something. I tilt my head to peek up at him through my lashes and he smiles down at me. Unsure of what to say, I twirl his necklace in my hand and decide on small talk.

“Are you religious?
”
I ask, holding up the cross around his neck.

“Not really, it was my mother’s.”

So much for small talk.
I rest it back on his chest and trace my finger along his shoulder blades.

“Do you miss her?
”
I ask.

He stays silent for a few seconds, considering the question. “I don’t remember her that well so I think I miss the idea of her.”

“Your dad tells you stories about her, right?”

“We don’t really talk about her. It’s too hard on him, but my abuela tells me stories about her.”

“Like what?”

“I guess I’m a lot like her. She loved music, played music, and loved to entertain people. Everyone tells me how passionate she was, how they revered her. It makes me hope we’re similar. She lightened the life of everyone she met.”

“I wish I could have met her.”

“Me too,
”
Reagan says and my heart twists for him. I snuggle in closer and squeeze, trying to take some of the pain away.

“You were rougher than I would have expected,
”
I say, changing the subject.

Reagan laughs and rolls his eyes. “Why?”

“Um,
”
I mumble, biting my thumb.

He mockingly gasps and pretends to be horrified as he asks, “My music?”

“Your music is definitely not a reflection of your love making.”

“Are you trying to say that I’m better at sex than music?
”
he asks with amusement.

“Well…
”
I say, half kidding.

“Josephine Reynolds, you’ve wounded me,
”
he says, clutching his chest in mock pain.

“What I meant to say was I would have thought you would be gentle like your music. I did not mean to imply that I think your music is bad.”

“I can be gentle if you want,
”
Reagan says with a devilish smile. He rolls on top of me, placing feather light kisses along my neck. My body, which I thought was down for the night, perks right back up with his touch. He runs a delicate finger over my shoulder and between my breasts. I shiver with pleasure and he hasn't even done anything yet.

We make love softly and I can’t decide which version of Reagan I like better. His black hair falls in front of his face as he hovers over me, breathing heavily. I run a hand through it, admiring his chiseled jawline and dark eyes.

“You look tired,
”
I say, running my hand over his chest.

“I’m exhausted,
”
he admits.

“So go to sleep,
”
I say, playfully pushing him off me.

“I don’t want to.”

“Don’t be stubborn,
”
I scold. Reagan shakes his head and falls back onto the pillow with an exaggerated sigh. After about ten-seconds his breathing slows and he is asleep. I wish I could go to sleep that easily. My body is fully alert as I grab a water bottle and my toothbrush. Looking left and right in the parking garage, I decide I am alone and brush my teeth. When I step back into the camper, Reagan is snoring a little and I laugh to myself. Who’d have thought this is where we were headed. I guess I should have assumed this was an impending event but it comes as a surprise nonetheless.

My heart feels warm as I watch him sleep and I really want to call Francesca but my phone is totally out of commission. I lay awake for a while, careful not to disturb Reagan’s peaceful slumber. It is completely uncertain where we go from here but for once I’m not worried. I might end up with my heart broken and alone but I somehow know I will be okay. It’s a much needed revelation and for the first time in a long time, I feel like I am getting to know myself again.