A Love Letter to Whiskey Read online

  He swallowed, the motion visible in the shadow the moon was casting off his jaw. I couldn’t shake how tired his eyes looked, how sad, how defeated. Jamie was sitting there, right beside me, yet he seemed so far away.

  “Things have been hard, you know? I mean, we’re in college, but we’re not too dumb to see how the economy is suffering right now. But I never thought it would directly affect me. I think we’re at that age where we just feel invincible, like nothing can touch us, but it can.” He shook his head, picking at the strings on the edge of our blanket. “My dad’s firm is going under. It’s going fast. And I’m here, in California, in fucking college, powerless to do anything to save it and yet depending on it all the same.”

  My hand moved of its own accord, reaching out for his. He turned his palm up to meet me and the moment my hand slid into his, he gripped it tight, just like he’d held me in the parking lot. Jamie held onto everything fiercely and unapologetically that night.

  “How bad is it?”

  “Bad,” he croaked. His hand squeezed and I moved closer, leaning my head on his shoulder.

  “But is there a chance it’ll be okay?”

  He shrugged. “I guess there’s always a chance.”

  “So focus on that,” I said, my eyes on the waves as I breathed in his scent. “Jamie, your father built that firm. It’s been a part of him since he was twenty-six years old. He’s put blood, sweat, and tears into it. Do you think a little recession is going to kill his dream? His baby?” I didn’t wait for him to answer. “No way. Because the Shaw’s are fighters. When you see something you want — truly want — you go after it. All of you. And your dad is going to find a way to keep the firm alive. There is no other option for him.”

  “It’s not that simple,” Jamie argued, free hand still picking at the blanket. “There’s less of a need for high-end accountants when businesses are tanking. The few clients they have left are seeking out cheaper options, if not battling their own demise.”

  “Okay, but this recession isn’t going to last forever. If your dad can just hold on—”

  “And what if he doesn’t, B?” Jamie turned to me then, frustration in his voice. “What then?”

  “Then he starts over, Jamie.” I sat up straighter, facing him, too. “And so do you. And you figure it out. Because that’s what life’s about. It’s about paddling out and fighting the waves until you find the perfect one to ride home on.”

  “I don’t know if I could start over,” he said dejectedly. The brokenness in his voice was enough to make me move until I was positioned right in front of him, forcing him to look at me. I was so used to seeing Jamie carefree, surfing or driving his Jeep or charming the panties off of every blonde on campus. It was rare to catch him in a moment like this, and I wanted to bring the real Jamie back to the surface.

  “Don’t you remember what I told you Christmas Eve when we were in high school?” The line between his brows eased at that, and he nodded. “I meant it then, I mean it even more now. You’re only a sophomore in college and already you’ve done two internships and started preparing for your Certified Public Accountant examination, which you don’t even need to think about until grad school. You’re acing your classes and building a network by attending all those fancy events downtown. You’re doing it, Jamie. You’re making your own dreams come true, just like your dad did. This recession will pass, and you’ll come out on top no matter what because that’s just who you are.”

  He was nodding along with me, bottom lip sucked tight between his teeth and eyes on where my hands had wrapped around his. “You’re right. I can do this.”

  “You can,” I said, squeezing his hands.

  He looked at me then and his nose flared. “I’m not going to lie and say that I’m not scared, but I believe you when you say I can do it. I believe you when you say it will be okay.”

  “Good. Because I’m right, like, ninety-seven percent of the time.”

  He cracked the smallest smile at my lame attempt at a joke. There he is, I thought. There’s my Jamie.

  “I think I’m going to go home this summer, try to help my dad turn it around.”

  “You should. It’d be a great experience for you and I know your dad would love having you around.”

  “Would you come with me?”

  His question knocked the breath from my chest, as if I’d forgotten I was alone on a dark beach with him until that exact moment. I pulled my hands from his and tucked them in my lap. “I don’t know what my plans are for the summer yet. But you’ll be fine without me.”

  “You’ve been pulling back lately,” Jamie whispered. I shook my head, not ready to have this conversation. “You have. Don’t lie to me.”

  “I never could.”

  “So then tell me what’s going on.”

  I sighed, debating how likely it would be that Jamie would let me change the subject, but I knew Jamie well enough to know he wouldn’t let this go. A part of me was ready to talk about it, though — to tell him why I’d been staying away. Maybe if I got it all out in the open, he would respect my decision. Maybe he’d understand.

  “Ethan feels threatened by you, I think.” Jamie’s eyes widened at that and I shook my head. “That’s the wrong word. He just… I don’t know. He feels like he has to compete with you. And I hate that I made him feel that way. I just need to focus on my relationship with him and I can’t do that if he sees me spending all my time with another man.”

  “But we’re us,” Jamie argued. “It’s always been us.”

  “Has it?” I argued, peeking up at him through my lashes. “Seems to me like it’s always been us and other people.” I cringed a little as the words left my mouth, but I didn’t take them back.

  The greenish-gold of Jamie’s eyes was glowing fiercely in the bright light from the moon, but they shifted in that moment. I watched in what felt like slow motion as the vulnerability that existed in them just moments before was replaced by an insatiable hunger.

  “It’s just us right now,” he said, voice low.

  “Jamie…”

  “You said you could never lie to me.”

  The air around us was tightening, catching fire. “I couldn’t.”

  “So then tell me, B,” he urged, reaching out for my hands that were tucked in my lap. He grabbed me by the wrists and pulled me closer. “Is it Ethan scared of you being alone with me, or is it you who’s afraid?”

  My breaths were hollow, especially when his jaw ticked beneath the skin as he waited for my answer.

  “Both.”

  He licked his lips. “Why?”

  Each breath I sucked in through my nose burned, like it was poisonous, like the next breath might be my last. “Because I don’t trust myself when I’m with you.”

  Jamie squeezed his eyes tight and blew out a hard breath through his nose, his right hand dropping mine and running up my arm before sliding to my neck. When his eyes shot open again, they were dangerous, thirsty, ravenous. He leaned in closer and I pulled away, farther and farther until I was leaning back and he was on his knees in front of me.

  “Would you be mad if I kissed you right now?”

  “Yes,” I lied, proving my previous statement wrong. I wanted him to kiss me — God, I wanted him to kiss me. It was all I could do to pull back from the way he pushed himself into my space. But a normal girl with a boyfriend would have been mad. That’s why he asked me. And that’s why I lied. I tried to hold onto the last thread of morality I had, but he snapped it in half with his next sentence.

  “Then I hope you’ll forgive me later.”

  Jamie closed the distance between us and I opened my mouth to stop him, but he was already there, catching my words with the sweep of his tongue against mine. I gasped into his kiss, pushing up onto my knees to meet him and he groaned at the sound, his hands sliding under my sweater to grip my waist.

  He didn’t ask if it was okay to keep kissing me. He didn’t need to. I was tugging at his hoodie, wanting him closer, wanting
more of his tongue, his touch, his scent. He broke our kiss long enough to trail his teeth down my neck, sliding his hands up my waist until his thumbs brushed the lace of my bra.

  My heart was a snare drum, pounding erratically against the confines of my rib cage. Jamie traced his fingers along the lacy edge before he gripped me again, this time spinning me to face the ocean. I lost my balance, falling back against him, and his mouth found the base of my neck once more. He bit the tender flesh before sucking it between his teeth and I moaned, letting my head drop back.

  “Is this the passion you’ve been missing? The urgency?” he asked, his lips on the skin beneath my ear. Chills broke on my skin and he sucked my earlobe into his mouth as his thumbs hooked under my bra. He didn’t take it off, just pushed it up enough to expose my breasts, and his large hands palmed each one easily. He rolled my nipples with a pinch and I arched my back into him, feeling his hard on pressed against my ass as he inhaled a stiff breath. His hands were cold. His kisses were hot. “Because I can’t fathom taking my hands off you right now.”

  I bit my bottom lip, dragging my teeth across it slowly as Jamie’s words ripped me at the seams. I was completely open, completely exposed, raw and uninhibited with the power from his hands surging through my core. My first taste of Whiskey had been nothing. My first shot? Child’s play. I’d been holding back, delicately balancing on the line, afraid of drinking too much — but this was it. I knew it. I felt every inch of the fall from tipsy to drunk. I was completely wasted, and all I wanted was to feel this way forever.

  Jamie dropped his hold on my breasts and snaked one hand into my hair, tugging it back until his mouth could catch mine. I moaned louder and his other hand slipped slowly down, catching on the skin of my stomach before finding the hem of my boy shorts that were peeking out above my sweat pants. His fingers dipped beneath the fabric as he ran a line from hip to hip and I bucked against the touch, his hand fisting in my hair, holding my head back, leaving me completely at the mercy of his touch.

  I was writhing, waiting, my hands on his thighs as I braced myself for his touch. He dipped his hand under deeper, then withdrew it, running it back up my ribs to palm my breast again. I groaned, impatient, and grabbed his hand with my own before forcing it down again. He smirked against my mouth, tugging my bottom lip between his teeth and letting it go with a pop as I moved us beneath my boy shorts. The moment his fingers slid between my thighs, we both moaned.

  “Oh fuck,” Jamie breathed, kissing me as I pulled my hand back to brace myself again. He slid his fingers down my slit and one finger entered me slowly. I gripped his thighs hard, my nails digging into the fabric of his sweat pants. He worked slowly, his one finger moving deeper and deeper each time until he thrust another inside and I broke our kiss, crying out loud at the sensation.

  “Shhh,” he ordered, hand dropping its hold on my hair to cover my mouth. I bit down on his fingers, sliding my hand between his thighs behind me to grip him through his sweats. Jamie groaned, thrusting into my touch as his head fell back, and then, all at once, his hands were gone.

  My body convulsed at the loss of him, but when I turned on my knees, his shirt was already over his head and I followed suit, stripping my clothes off as he did the same. His eyes never left mine, gaze only broken by curtains of clothes flying between us. When he dropped his boxer briefs, my mouth hung open at the sight of him and I swallowed. He was staring at me, too, chest heaving, and then our eyes met and we crashed together again.

  My hands weaved into his hair and I pulled him down on top of me. He moved easily between my legs, blindly reaching for the top blanket and tugging it up over where our hips met and running the length of his erection along my wet slit. He slowed then, breathing hard between softer, longer kisses.

  “We need to slow down,” he breathed.

  “Like hell we do.”

  He smirked against my lips, slowing my kisses. “I don’t have a…” He pulled back, our chests heaving together as he stared down at me. The moon lit him from behind, his strong jaw pronounced against the dark blue of the sky. “We don’t have protection.”

  My eyes bounced between his. “It’s okay,” I dug my heels into the hard muscles of his ass, bucking my hips up to meet him again. “I’m on birth control. And I’m clean. Are you?”

  “Yes.”

  He said the word like a curse, squeezing his eyes shut and letting his forehead drop to mine as I dug my nails into his shoulders.

  “Jamie,” I breathed, wrapping my hands around his neck and pulling his lips to mine again. “I can forgive you for kissing me, but I can’t forgive you if you stop right now.”

  He groaned, low and throaty before he kissed me back. And then, with the slow steadiness of an expert, Jamie filled me, and we tumbled into hell together.

  We both gasped, open mouths against each other, my hands on his neck and his forearms braced on either side of me. He withdrew even slower before pushing in again, this time hitting deeper than before.

  “God, B,” Jamie hissed. “I’ve dreamed of what this would feel like, taking you, feeling you wrapped around me. But it doesn’t even compare. I can’t…” He shook his head, moving just a little faster. I felt each thrust through the movements of his thighs, his back, his shoulders, and I wrapped my legs around him tighter. “I’ll never—”

  “I know,” I stopped him, because I did know.

  He would never be the same, and neither would I.

  If you asked three different whiskey distilleries what the best kind of whiskey is, you’d find three different answers. Some like their whiskey sweet, infused with honey or fruit and smooth on ice. Some prefer their whiskey bold, with sharp spices and mint. Me? Personally, I preferred whiskey that burned — slowly — in an all-consuming fashion.

  And that night, I felt every inch of my body catch fire as I drained the bottle.

  Jamie took his time, finding what worked for me and what didn’t. He explored my body, tasted my skin, and exposed me to a passion unfounded in my life before that night. I came first, tightening around him and fisting the sand at the edge of the blanket. Jamie followed closely, and I nearly lost myself again at the sound of my name on his lips as he fell apart.

  He held me close as we climbed the stairs back to Earth. He was still inside me, and he kissed me softly, his eyes lingering on mine. I think Jamie was drinking me in that night, too. I wondered if I burned. I wondered if he liked it.

  So you see, the addiction was born on a chilly February night in the soft sand of a private California beach. In that moment, wrapped in his arms under a woven blanket, I felt euphoric. But as we all learn at a young age, what goes up, must come down.

  And oh how we crashed.

  FOR THE FIRST THREE MINUTES of consciousness that next morning, I lived in complete and total bliss.

  I lie in bed, stretching my arms high above me and flexing my toes as a sleepy smile moved in on my face. I was deliciously sore, aching both physically and yearningly. I wanted more, I wanted to relive last night, I wanted to stay in that memory forever.

  After three minutes, my eyes shot open, and dread rushed in like a hangover.

  I sat up straight, clutching my sheets in one hand while the other found my forehead. Gazing around my room, I tried to guess what time it was. Jamie and I had stayed out late — too late — the sun already rising when he dropped me off. We’d both been quiet on the ride home, and even though he held my hand the entire way, I worried what he was thinking. Was he feeling guilty about Ethan? Did he regret making the move? Or was he high off life like I was, even if what we had done was wrong?

  I couldn’t tell, and since it was daylight when he dropped me off, we didn’t risk another kiss or even a hug. He simply squeezed my hand before letting it drop and I snuck back into my dorm.

  Reaching for my phone, I groaned at the time — 1:42 PM.

  I’d missed my Sociology class and I was about to miss English Comp I if I didn’t get my ass across campus in less than twenty mi
nutes.

  I jumped up, throwing my hair in a sorry excuse for a bun and rushing to brush my teeth before dressing in the first pair of jeans and long sleeve shirt I found. Even though I was in a hurry, it wasn’t enough of a distraction from the thoughts racing through my mind.

  Adjusting my book bag on my shoulders, I pulled out my phone again, checking for a text from Jamie that still hadn’t come in. The dread I’d been feeling low in my stomach all morning made enough room for doubt and anxiety to slink in with it.

  Last night had been amazing, and Jamie had seemed so sincere, but what if it was all an act? What if he planned that — the whole opening up to me thing before making his move?

  Even as I thought it, I knew it couldn’t be true. But what could be was that Jamie felt like last night was a mistake. Or worse, that last night didn’t mean anything at all to him — that he wasn’t even thinking about me at all. That was probably why he hadn’t texted.

  Or he could be sleeping still.

  But he’s likely stripping off Melanie From Orientation’s bra.

  Maybe he’s just in class. Did he have classes on Friday?

  Nope. He was definitely putting another notch in his headboard. Right next to the one he carved out for me last night.

  I stopped dead in my tracks.

  Wait, it’s Friday?

  I smacked my forehead hard with my hand and dragged it down over my face slowly, biting my forefinger as it ran across my lips.

  I don’t have classes on Friday.

  Grumbling, I turned back toward the dorm but took the path that crossed past the coffee shop. Clearly I needed caffeine. I was losing my damn mind.

  My pace slowed a little then, but the thoughts buzzing around in my head like wasps only zoomed faster. How was it that everything had felt so right last night, yet felt so wrong now? How was it that the safety of Jamie’s arms was somehow lost after a few hours of sleeping on my own?

  I blew out an exaggerated breath, deciding to put myself out of my misery and text him first. But when my fingers hovered over the keys, I realized I had no idea what to even say.