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ALL I WANT IS A KISS
by Willow Winters
OLIVIA
The butterflies in my stomach just won’t quit it. I’ve searched the lobby with baited breath, but he’s not here. Nick’s all I could think about the entire flight. I was so convinced I’d step in through those double glass doors behind me and see him standing right in front of me, not this thin crowd of people I don’t recognize.
The entire flight I pictured him at the end of the mahogany bar, seated on the leather stool with his gray tailored suit. He knows the one I like; it brings out his steely eyes. They’re such a pale blue, I swear sometimes they’re silver. At least they look that way under the dimmed bar lights late at night in this very hotel.
I imagined coming up beside him at the bar, and casually ordering a drink, pretending not to recognize him. As if I wouldn’t know his cologne, his confident, dominating demeanor, that rough stubbled jaw in a heartbeat. I swear my body can recognize his in a crowd a mile away. I’m simply drawn to him. I even changed into this red dress that clings to my curves at the airport and touched up my makeup, just for that moment. Last time I saw him, he told me I look gorgeous in red. Pouty red lips. Check. Sultry red dress. Check check. Man I’ve been dreaming about for days? Nowhere in sight.
Sighing, I roll out my shoulder, letting my luggage bag fall to the crook of my arm for only a moment. It gives me enough time to take in the place without thoughts of him making me an anxious, excited mess. The gust of cold from behind me urges me forward, away from the front entrance and back to reality.
It’s bitter cold in the Pennsylvania mountains and I happen to despise the cold. We aren’t friends. No way, no how. But the fireplaces in the ski lodge resort this hotel is based in, made of large stones and surrounded by plush leather couches? We may as well be old lovers.
“There you are!” Over the din of chatter from the crowded bar across the lobby. I recognize Autumn’s voice instantly.
“Hey, hey love,” I greet her with a peppy voice and a tight hug when we meet halfway. Her embrace is only half assed, but she’s got a good reason. Standing two inches shorter than me with big brown eyes and a brunette bob, Autumn has a wine glass in each of her hands. Red for her, and white for me. The red in her glass matches her soft chenille sweater perfectly too. As if she did it on purpose.
“I freaking love you,” I say gratefully, tossing down the weekender duffle and graciously accepting the glass. If I can’t have him, my heart flips in protest at the thought, at least I can have a little wine to take the edge off.
“I’m telling you,” my friend of over a decade is always “telling me” something. She’s also typically right. Maybe always right, I’m not sure, I don’t have the mental energy to keep track. She’s the creative one, I’m the workaholic. Together we kick ass. “It’s so much better when you come a day early.”
“I seriously wish I could, but--”
“Work,” she finishes the sentence for me and rolls her eyes when she does. “I know,” she comments before sipping her red wine. Her bottom lip is already slightly stained, but it only adds to her charm.
“You would think with the way you said ‘work’ that you don’t know we’re actually here for work.” With my glass in my left hand and my luggage in my right, I make my way to the elevators.
“A conference is different and you know it.” Autumn follows behind me, offering to take my glass. With a smirk I tell her she’ll have to kill me to get it from me. It’s chilled and delicious and exactly what I need after a long flight. I thought I would be here hours ago, but the flight was delayed, and here I am arriving at eleven at night with tired, dry eyes. A glass of wine is exactly what I need.
“Fine, give me your bag,” she insists, downing the rest of her red. I want to ask her if she’s seen Nick, but I don’t. I keep my lips sealed tight, grateful that she’s at least here to greet me. Besides, I know she knows I’m looking for him. I always am at these events. If she saw him, she’d tell me. The simper on my face wavers slightly, but only slightly.
A lobby attendant passes by and collects the now empty wine glass from her just as the door to the spacious elevator opens. “Thank you,” she offers the uniformed gentleman. Maybe it’s the uniform, or maybe I’m just really in need, but the guy is hot. Like he came out of a People’s sexiest men alive list, hot. His smile is charming, a little too wide and Autumn actually blushes before pushing me into the elevator.
“You aren’t kidding,” I tell her as the doors close and I take another sip, “I really should have gotten in last night.” The smile that creeps onto my face is fitting for the Cheshire cat.
Autumn only laughs. She’s all sorts of good bundled into a beautiful little package. “Oh fuck off,” she jokes back. “I wish I had the balls for a one-night stand.”
There’s a little blip in my chest, and heat rolls down my shoulders, yet it gives my arms chills at the thought. I was hoping for a one night stand with a man I’ve had plenty of those with. Disappointment lingers, he knows I’m here for the conference and every time I come to the East Coast, we meet up. Every single time. One to two times a month for nearly two years now. He’s not my boyfriend; and I don’t want him to be. We want different things in life and we live on opposite sides of the country. There’s an unspoken commitment though. I’m the only one he sees, and he’s the only one I see. It’s casual and low maintenance. But why does it feel so crushing that I haven’t heard from him yet?
I text him yesterday and he said he’d be here.
He’s just not here yet. That’s what it is. I try to convince myself and then resort to sticking my nose into Autumn’s business to take my mind off of it.
“I mean…,” I tease her, “we are staying for an entire weekend. And since you came a day early, it could be a four-day-stand.”
I can tell she must be at least half a bottle in by how loud she laughs and it only makes me want to catch up as we make our way to the room. I have an order to things though, before I can have more than this one glass. I don’t just drop off my luggage in the room like Autumn does, I unpack everything. I put it in its place. I get bottles of water and my ear plugs and put them on the night stand too. I’m just a little OCD like that. It helps me feel settled.
“This one’s for you,” she hands over a keycard without acknowledging my comment, simply shaking her head in feigned dismay.
This is the same lodge as last year and it doesn’t escape my knowledge when we get off the elevator that this is the same floor Nick was on last year. I spent an extra two days with him last time, lost in the sheets and taking off from work for the first time in months just to prolong saying goodbye.
I have to blow a stray piece of blonde out of my face and focus. This trip is not about him, no matter how much my libido may disagree.
Autumn’s already plopped herself onto a bed. She knows the drill.
At first, when we started going to all of these events so frequently, she would stare at me like I was an alien with two heads whenever we bunked for a conference, but now, she lays back on her bed, kicks her feet up and gives me the itinerary while I do my thing. All the while, her bag lays on the floor, unzipped and spilling out everything she packed. Except her dresses, which are always hung up in the closet. She gets the right side, which she barely uses, and I get the left.
