He squatted down next to my chair, which he’d never done. “I have something to ask you.” Viewing him from this new perspective, I stared at his long, dark eyelashes and his ful lips. He drew the rose down the side of my face, the petals soft against my cheek, and I felt a stirring to my core.
“Do you have a date for homecoming?”
I shook my head slowly, disbelieving. It made no sense for someone as popular as Colin to notice me, let alone ask me out.
“Would you like to go with me?” His gaze locked on mine as he slowly dragged the rose across my lips, the fragrance of it sweet and overpowering. I nodded, and he smiled. He pul ed his phone from his pocket, pushed a few buttons, handed it to me. “Put your number in. I’l cal you tonight and we’l talk logistics.” As I tapped my number, he glanced towards the door and back to me. “Can I have a kiss, to seal the deal?”
I nodded again, and then his lips were on mine, briefly.
He took his phone, laid the rose on my desk, and walked into the hal , whistling. I’d been asked to homecoming, had accepted the invitation, and his kiss, never speaking a word.
That was my first kiss with Colin. My first kiss with anyone.
Four months later, it was Valentine’s Day. His parents had driven to San Francisco for an extended romantic weekend, and his little sister was staying overnight at a friend’s house. He took me to dinner, and then we rented a movie. We had the house to ourselves. As we made out on the sofa, he whispered that he loved me. When he took my hand and pul ed me to his room and into his bed, I fol owed.
We snuck home to his empty house during lunch breaks and got a hotel room on my fifteenth birthday, where we made love in the shower, on the worn loveseat, and on the floor, laughing at the rug burns we sustained on our knees and backsides from the coarse carpet. I woke up in his arms, hoping Mom hadn’t cal ed the friend with whom I was supposedly spending the night, but certain I’d not trade that waking moment for anything, no matter the consequences.
When spring break came around and he took off for San Diego with friends, I didn’t protest; I wasn’t one of those clingy girlfriends. When he came back home Sunday night
—his eighteenth birthday—and didn’t cal or return my texts, I was concerned. When he didn’t show at lunch or stop by the office on Monday, I didn’t understand. Not until I saw him in the hal way just before last period, his arm slung around the waist of a senior girl. Not until his eyes passed over and then returned to me.
“Hey, fresh meat,” he said, and kept walking.
That was when I knew it was over.
Chapter 24
REID
On one hand, that could have gone better… and on the other, it couldn’t have. Once again, I gave in to the impulse to kiss her, though truth be told I’ve wanted to kiss her since the moment she fel into my arms and the sky rained fruit onto our heads.
She didn’t shove me away this time. At least not until after I kissed her, and she kissed me back. God damn, did she kiss me back. And then the conversation about sex—
something thing I never thought I’d be discussing with Dorcas Cantrel —and my foul language. I’m not a Neanderthal; I’m capable of curbing it when necessary. I just general y don’t see the point. It’s who I am. Deal. Dori makes it sound like saying the f-word is on par with burning flags or drowning bunnies.
My phone buzzes while I’m staring into the bubblegum closet, ignoring, for now, the part of the story where Dori ran away. Again. My driver is out front, and I forgot to get her signature before she took off. She said Roberta and Gene were stil here; hopeful y one of them wil sign.
Seven more working days of my sentence to go.
“Reid?” Roberta’s eyebrows fly up when I come around the corner and her eyes blink behind glasses that lend her face an owlish appearance. She glances at the watch on her wrist and then blinks at me again. “You’re stil here?” I pul the sheet out of my back pocket as I walk into her makeshift office—a rickety table, a folding chair and a laptop set up in the middle of the master bedroom. Baskets labeled in and out teeter on the edge of the table, stacked with assorted forms and files. “Dori needed some help fixing something that I, uh, screwed up. So I stayed a little late.”
She takes the form, gives it a cursory glance and scrawls her signature at the bottom, smiling. “How lovely of you. I’m sure Dori appreciated that.”
Right. I’m sure appreciation was way up there on her list of feelings as she raced out of here. “When’s her last day, anyway?” I ask, as offhandedly as possible.
“Tuesday, I believe.”
By the end of the day Tuesday, I’l only have three more days remaining of this sentence. I should be looking forward to this ending. Instead, I’m craving some way to slow down time so I can figure out what the hel I want, and get it. “How long is her trip?”
Roberta’s eyes narrow, suspicious of my sudden interest in Dori’s plans. “Three weeks, I think,” she answers.
“Why?”
I shrug and turn to leave. “Just curious.” I have to be on location in Vancouver for my next film in less than a month. Little to no time in between her return and my departure. I don’t know what I want from this girl.
Tadd labeled her a chal enge, and God yes, she’s that. But today. That kiss. And now I have a matter of days to figure out how far she’s wil ing to take this. Assuming she plays fair and shows up instead of skipping out like she did before.
Ignoring the paparazzi, bodyguards and fans, I leave the house and walk towards the driver, who stands stoical y next to the open back door of the car. A flash of insight nearly stops me in the middle of the newly paved sidewalk.
The last time I tried to kiss her, she ducked away and then disappeared for several days. This time, she surrendered
—and the way she kissed me wasn’t the feel of a girl submitting to something unwanted. She wasn’t giving in to me, she was giving in to herself. She’d contemplated kissing me, at least subconsciously.