Page 16 of Love Resurrected
“Sure, thanks,” he says, his voice flat.
6
Brad
The emcee announces the bachelors and winning bidders, inviting them to the dance floor for the first dance before the after party begins. I follow Tenley to the dance floor when we’re announced and try to ignore the dirty looks I get from everyone we pass. Those that I can’t ignore, I return.
Fuck these people for being so simple.
Fuck Remi for making me do this.
Fuck Tenley for leaving my mic on.
Fuck Kat for dying.
That’s the root of it. I’m still extraordinarily pissed at her for dying. But I can’t be mad at her, she’s gone. Everyone else gets to experience it instead.
I pull Tenley into my arms, a little harder than I intend to, and her body goes flush against mine. She’s only a few inches shorter than I am, but her legs are long, so our hips are closely aligned. Blood rushes to my dick. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a woman in my arms. Since before Kat died and her last three weeks were just her declining, rapidly. I wasn’t able to touch her much at all.
The song is melodic with a haunting chorus. I don’t know it, even though it sounds familiar. But the singer laments no one said it would be easy, but also not this hard, and how she wants to go back to the start. It resonates with me; I love it and hate it at once. Kat had this playlist she would put on when she was feeling down, and most of the songs would make her cry. Somehow, that whole experience would make her feel better, but I was never sure how. This song sounds like one that would have been on that list.
Tenley clears her throat and looks around for a moment before looking up at me. She smells good. Like coconut and vanilla.
“I should be honest with you,” she starts.
I look down, brow furrowed, and wait for her to continue.
“I was the one who bid on you.”
“Why the fuck would you do that?” I ask.
“I didn’t want your lack of bids to ruin the auction.”
“Well, I hope you don’t expect me to pay you back.”
“Did I ask you to?”
“No, but five G’s is a lot of money. Are you really going to pay it?”
“Of course I’ll pay it.”
“You’ve got that much money lying around to waste on me?”
“I’m not wasting it. And it’s not on you. It’s for the Families of the Fallen Fund. Which, to me, is money well spent.”
I keep forgetting this whole event is for a good cause, one that’s important to me.
She keeps talking. “I appreciate that you did this. I know you didn’t want to. But we’ve raised a lot of money tonight, and that’s really important.”
“Happy to do it,” I say.
She laughs. “You couldn’t sound less convincing if you tried. You were not even remotely happy to do it. But that’s okay. I get it.”
I laugh bitterly. “You’re right. I’m just . . . fuck, I don’t know. I’m not in a good head space right now.”
That’s the biggest understatement ever.
“There’s no timeline on grief, you know,” she says.
