Eliza Jane - In Too Deep

Colt’s attention and my lack of a shirt has me flushed.

“Are you okay?” his voice is rough, yet gentle.

I nod, still looking up into his eyes. He towers above me, making me feel safe and secure in his presence. I don’t think, I lean into him, pressing my head against his chest. He hesitates for a second before wrapping his arms around me, pulling me against him. I breathe into his chest, letting his masculine scent and strength comfort me.

Something about the warmth of the bathroom, his strong arms around me, his body pressed against mine shuts down the rational part of my brain and I’m left with a strange warmth tingling inside my body. I let my hands wander to his back, over the muscles of his solid shoulders and grab onto his shirt, clutching it in my fists. I fight off the tears that threaten to spill over again and just let Colt hold me.

Colt responds to my touch by pulling me even closer. I bury my head under his chin and allow myself to be comforted by his gentle concern. I let all the emotion and drama of the day fade away as we stand together in the steamy bathroom.

Colt leans back so he can look at me. He brings a hand up to cup my jaw, and his fingers work their way under my hair. My eyes fall closed at his touch. The pad of his thumb traces across my bottom lip and a little sound escapes the back of my throat as my lips part for him, ready and eager. Colt stiffens at the sound, studying me with confusion all over his face. He blinks down at me several times, the electricity humming between us. His eyes move down to look at my mouth. Colt wants to kiss me. My heart pounds in anticipation. But he doesn’t lean forward. He doesn’t press his lips to mine. He stands still, gazing down at me with wonder.

Suddenly he lifts me by my hips, and sets me on the counter in front of him, making us the same height. With his hand on my jaw again, he lifts my chin up to meet his mouth. He brushes his lips softly against mine, almost like he’s testing me, waiting to see what I’ll do. I feel his urgency, the raw need between us, and I kiss him back. The second I respond, softly opening my mouth against his, the kiss builds.

His kiss is intoxicating, knowing and I melt into him. I feel his tongue swirl with mine and let out a ragged moan, balling his shirt in my hands to pull him even closer.

Colt stops and pulls back, confusion all over his face. “I’m sorry.” He steps away. I can tell he regrets kissing me. Tears blur my vision.

He leaves and closes the door firmly behind him.

His departure leaves me reeling and weakened. I slide off the counter, and all the way down onto the floor. Warm tears stream down my cheeks as I process that Colt Palmer just kissed me.

* * *

I take my time in the bath, soaking away the stress and worry of the last several hours, including both the run in with Lars and my unexpected response to Colt’s kiss, who I’ve told myself time and again I should not like. Even though he’s bad for me, I can’t seem to control how I feel.

I go through the motions of shampooing and conditioning my hair, then lather the washcloth with the body wash that Colt has lined up on the edge of the bathtub. After today’s encounters…Lars…Colt…I struggle to organize my thoughts and feelings into compartments that make sense. The image of Colt lifting me by my hips and kissing me passionately was not something I would soon forget. I lean my head back against the edge of the bathtub and close my eyes.

Once I’m through with the bath, I comb out my wet hair, and find that Colt has somehow slipped my backpack just inside the door without me noticing. Great. Had that happened when I was crying on the bathroom floor? Or when I was naked in the tub? I dress quickly in my yoga pants and a long sleeved tee.

I leave the bathroom, my head ducked down. Colt is stretched out on one half of the bed, remote control in hand. He’s fallen asleep. I tiptoe around him and set my backpack down on the floor. But in my effort to maneuver around the bed, I stub my toe on the edge of the side table.

Damn it. I hop around on one foot, swearing under my breath.

“You okay?” Colt says, launching to his feet.

“Fine,” I say through gritted teeth.

He makes a move to come and help me, but I hold up my hand, stopping him. “I’m good.” The last thing I need is him touching me again.

“Okay.” He takes a seat in the chair by the door, wisely giving me some space. “I ordered some Chinese food. That alright with you?”

“Sure. Sounds good.” My stomach rumbles at the mention of food, reminding me it’s been hours since breakfast.

A few minutes later, there’s a knock at the door. Our food’s here. Thank God for the distraction.

Colt arranges the cartons of egg rolls, fried rice, sweet and sour chicken, and chow mein noodles in the center of the table. He cracks open a can of Coke and slides it toward me. “I know you like diet. But this has sugar. Drink it. It’ll make you feel better.”

He hands me a pair of chopsticks.

I fumble with them, looking down.

“Did the bath help?” he asks, glancing up at me through his eyelashes.

I nod. “It did. Thank you.”

“Anytime.” He smiles.

I’m relieved to see that things feel back to normal between us, the kiss already forgotten, which is both a relief, and sort of insulting.

He slides the container of fried rice toward me. “Eat. And stop thinking. Field assignments aren’t always like that. I know this seems crazy right now, but it won’t always. And getting some food in your system will help.”

I nod. The food does smell good. I try a bite of rice, wishing I had a fork. I manage to get some of it in my mouth, but most of the rice lands on the table in front of me.

Colt’s eyes follow my movements, and after another failed attempt with the chopsticks, he leans in toward me, taking my chopsticks. He loads them with rice and lifts the bite to my mouth. I hesitate for a second, then open it and let him feed me. “Good girl.”

I chew the rice and make myself swallow. He turns the chopsticks over to me, pushing the rice container closer. It’s nice to know that he cares enough to make sure I’m well fed. I can’t allow myself to mistake his concern for something it’s not though. I’ve seen his track record with girls. I have no plans to get on that list.

“Eat, Taylor,” he says, noticing I’m lost in my own thoughts again and thrusts the container of sweet and sour chicken toward me. “A few more bites.” He picks up the chopsticks I’ve distractedly set down and hands them to me again.

When it comes time for bed, without a word, Colt makes a pile of blankets on the floor for himself. This place isn’t exactly topping the cleanliness charts, the carpet looks sort of cruddy, but I keep my mouth shut, it’s not like I’m about to suggest that we share the bed. I’m not that stupid. 

I toss and turn on the hard mattress unable to sleep. I glance at the digital clock. One in the morning. I hear Colt turn over on the floor. I peek off the edge of the bed, trying to see if he’s awake. In the moonlight streaming through the curtains, I can see his eyes are open.

“Hi.” He looks up at me.

“Hi.” I giggle, feeling like I’ve been caught. “I can’t sleep.”

“Me neither.”

I don’t say it’s because I’m freaking out about that kiss just as much as I am over our botched assignment earlier today.

He sits up, and stretches. I notice at some point, he changed into a pair of mesh shorts and a white T-shirt.

“Is there any Chinese food left?”

He laughs, shaking his head. “There might be an egg roll left.” He gets up, turns on a lamp and rummages through the containers we left on the table. “And some noodles too.”

He carries both containers over to me, setting them on the bed and hands me a pair of chop sticks.

“Thanks.”

“Mind if I turn the TV on?”

“Nope,” I say around a mouthful of noodles.

He flips on the TV, and stands at the end of the bed, flipping through the channels.

“You can sit with me.” I pat the side of the bed.

“Thanks.” He sits down, scooting up until his back is pressed against the headboard.

“Want a bite?” I offer him half the egg roll.

“I’m good, thanks.” He smirks.

We watch mindless middle of the night infomercials while I polish off the last of the Chinese food.

When I come back from brushing my teeth, Colt is sprawled out on the bed, looking a little too comfortable. I let it pass and lie down next to him.

I think about how different my life has become in the past few months. I miss living at home with my parents, I miss our pancake breakfasts on Saturday mornings, and working side by side with my dad on the computer – on things that would never get you attacked by a German jewel thief.  I miss them more than I thought I would.

“Colt?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you miss your family, being away at the school, I mean?”

He’s quiet for a second, as if considering my question. “I miss my mom. My dad, not so much.” He rolls over onto his side, facing me. “Are you homesick?”

I nod, meeting his eyes. “I guess so.”

“Do you have a boyfriend back home?”

“Nope.” The memory of Wes rears its ugly head, but I push back down.

“So what about you? After your heartfelt breakup with Bria yesterday…no girlfriend?”

He smirks. “I know you’ve heard the rumors about me by now,” he says calmly. “Not all of them are true, by the way.”

I notice he doesn’t deny that some of them are true, or clarify which ones are fact and which are fiction.

“Love is a farce” he says.

Oh, how original. A hot guy that doesn’t believe in love. I keep my mouth closed, waiting for him to explain himself.

He continues, “I mean love as an emotion, yes, that exists. I love sushi, for instance. But being in love – with one person? No.”

So he’s never been in love. I guess I haven’t really either. But I never doubted it existed. Seeing my parents together – the way my dad was an ass sometimes and my mom was calm and loving with him when I felt like storming to my room and slamming to the door –told me there was something deeper at work. Of course I loved my dad, but she was clearly in love with him. They still cuddled on the couch during movies and kissed goodbye every morning. I knew I wanted that someday. I believe in that.