Free Avoiding Mr. Right by C.J. Ellisson

woman with a messy apartment
     strikes me as hysterical. “You’re a hard guy to figure out.”
    “Me? I’m hard to figure out?” Andy coughs and it turns into choking.
    The elevator opens. “You okay?” His choking stops and he glares at me. “What? You
     think you’re an easy guy to understand?”
    “I think you’re the one who’s a hard nut to crack. Not me.”
    “Me?” I say as we walk across the lobby. “Aren’t I the ideal hook-up? I like to have
     fun with no strings attached. What guy doesn’t want that?”
    Before I even anticipate Andy might react to my statement, the man pins me against
     the wall near the front door. “You’re more than a hook-up, can’t you see that?” His
     big blues eyes stare into mine, daring me to disagree.
    “I—”
    His lips descend on mine, covering my mouth with their warmth and intensity. After
     a moment, the tip of his tongue traces along my bottom lip. His voice comes out soft,
     the heat of his breath fanning my face. “If you don’t expect much from the man you’re
     with, then why waste your time with him?” He kisses me again, this time delving deeper,
     encouraging my tongue to play with his. “ You are worth more. Don’t ever forget it.”
    A throat clears, the sound coming from the direction of the elevators. A glance reveals
     it’s the building manager, arms loaded with tools and supplies. “Sorry to interrupt.
     I need to get by.”
    Heat rushes to my face and I hear the harping voice of my mother in my head, belittling
     me for such uncouth behavior. Andy nods to the man as he goes by, unconcerned by being
     caught. I fan my cheeks after the older man passes.
    “Oh, please,” Andy says when he sees my actions. “Is my little durian embarrassed
     by some innocent PDA? Is this the same woman who opened my pants in the elevator a
     week ago?”
    “Durian? What’s that?” I refuse to acknowledge my less than stellar drunken behavior
     of that Friday. We all have low points, and that was mine. Examining why it was a low point for me is something I’d like to avoid facing.
    “A durian is a prickly fruit.” At my look of confusion he continues. “Have you ever
     seen the greenish brown fruit with spikes all over it in the produce section?” I shake
     my head. “Well, it’s thorny on the outside, but sweet on the inside.” He tugs a short
     lock of my hair before stealing another brief kiss. “Like you.”
    A smile lights my face and curious warmth spreads in my chest. Sure, he may have just
     referred to me as a god-awful looking piece of fruit, but it was a sweet comparison,
     nonetheless. Andy grabs my hand the moment we leave my building, and holds tighter
     when I try to tug free.
    “Would it kill you to hold my hand?” he asks.
    His blunt question flusters me and I glance away. “Uh… no.” I look back toward him
     with humor. “Unless you’ve got some rare skin to skin transferrable disease, but then
     I would’ve gotten it when we…” I belatedly realize I’m babbling, so I shut up.
    Andy laughs and gives my hand a tug. “Yeah, if I did have something nasty like that,
     you’d already have it.”
    Holding his hand feels strangely… intimate. Like we’ve made a connection in a crowd
     with the simple physical contact. Warmth travels up my arm and I like it. A glance
     at Andy reveals a smug, almost satisfied expression on his face.
    “What are you so happy about, mister?”
    In a flash, the look is gone, to be replaced by a soft glow of contentment. “Nothing
     much.” He raises our joined hands. “Nice to hold the durian without getting pricked.”
    “Ha! Keep it up. I can turn the bitchiness on in a heartbeat if you miss it. Just
     let me know.”
    We ride the subway, Andy not letting go of my hand the whole time. I felt a little
     unsure at one point, and tried again to remove my hand from his. He held fast and
     wouldn’t let go. It was oddly comforting. Once we arrive at Dress for Success I make a