by K. C. Crowne
So, instead of letting my totally righteous and well-deserved anger out, I grab the remote for my stereo and crank up the volume. And when the chorus hits, I’m singing right along with the girls.
Chasing waterfalls. It makes total, perfect sense to my barely developed brain. If the other guys at Kennesaw High were rivers and lakes, Gavin Davenport is a freaking waterfall. And I chased him like crazy.
Well, that’s not entirely true. He chased me as good as I chased him. Granted, his flirting was as cool and smooth as it got while mine was as clumsy and awkward as I am in high school. I’ve been staring at him from afar since sophomore year, watching him go through each of the most popular girls in school one after another like he’s trying to fill out a bingo card.
I’m…kind of a dork. I’ve got braces, I’m gawky and tall and haven’t filled out just yet. So when I was at the first party I’d been invited to in God-knows-how-long and Gavin Davenport himself starts laying game on me, I had to assume it’s some kind of joke.
He rolled up to me all cool, that cocky, I-know-something-you-don’t smile on his face. The garage band was playing some Stone Temple Pilots song, and when Gavin asked me how I like it, I blurted out that I hated grunge.
That, of course, happened right after the band played the last chord of the song and that between-tunes silence fell. Everyone looked at me, the girl who’d insulted the band. My face reddened, and Gavin turned to the crowd, not missing a beat.
“Hey, the lady says she doesn’t like grunge.” He was confident as eff, not worried in the slightest about having hundreds of eyes locked on him – including the band.
He turned to me, still smirking. “What’s your favorite song?”
“Um, well, I don’t really have a favorite song. I’ve got favorite songs, but how can someone be expected to pick one? I—p” I was rambling, and he knew it.
“You like ‘Melt With You’?” he cut me off, and part of me was glad he did.
“Yeah,” I said with a smile. “I do.”
The party still silent, he called out the song to the band, and after a moment or two of uncertainty, they played it just for him.
Just for me.
I was done.
Music playing, we get to talking. And of course Gavin Davenport isn’t just a handsome face; he’s smart and witty and friendly and totally into me. But being as insecure as I am, I keep looking over his shoulder, expecting his friends to jump out and laugh at me.
They never do.
It was months ago we had that incredible night. And stupid, stupid me, I’d thought it might be the beginning of something special.
But no, here I am, crying every last drop of moisture out of my body after learning the news that not only was he breaking up with me, not only was he getting married, but he was marrying Mariah freaking Yarbrough herself, the girl almost single-handedly most responsible for making my life from elementary school on into a living hell.
How could he do this to me? I’m letting my tears pour, my body racking with sobs that’re so intense they’re almost painful.
And the marriage wasn’t even the worst of it.
The kicker, the teaspoon of salt ground into the wound, was that he’d gotten her pregnant.
I can’t believe he’d had the gall to show up at my house, laying it all out for me like he wasn’t turning my life upside down with nothing more than a few words.
At first, I thought he was joking. Things have been a little tense between us for a few weeks, but as far as I knew we were still together, still a couple.
But the moment he stepped out of his car, that pine-green ’72 Jaguar convertible he loved, and that I loved him driving me around in, I’d known something was wrong. That cocky smirk he always wore was gone, replaced with an expression I could only describe as grave.
He’d been seeing Mariah behind my back. He was leaving me for her. She was pregnant. They were getting married.
One bombshell after another.
I’d thrown him out in a rage. What the hell else should he have expected?
And here I am, alone, heartbroken, swearing to never let him – or any man like him – into my life again.
I snapped back into the present moment in a daze, feeling as if I’d actually gone back in time. My phone lit up and shook with a text from Kenna.
You’d better go! ; )
I sighed. I hadn’t seen Gavin in years, not once since that night. And now he was back in my life with the audacity to act like nothing had happened.
But as mad as I was, other emotions whirled through me. For example, I was curious as hell. What had happened with him and Mariah? Had they gotten divorced? There sure as hell didn’t seem to be any love lost between the two of them. And what about the kid? Was there some little Gavin running around out there?
It was all so strange. But the more I thought about it, the more determined I was to get some answers. More importantly, I was determined not to let this bizarre situation get the better of me. I’d face Gavin and conquer that part of my past. Because that’s what I was – a conqueror, afraid of nothing.
To be honest, it’d be a hell of a lot easier if he wasn’t so damn good-looking. Somehow, Gavin was even hotter than he’d been when we were in high school.
But I was a warrior. I could handle him.
Easy as pie.
Gavin
I kind of wanted to honk the horn.
A grin spread across my face the moment I pulled my artic-white BMW M3 in front of Gia’s apartment complex. I didn’t want to honk out of impatience, of course, more out of an urge to be prankish.
When we were in high school, we’d had a conversation about how there was nothing douchier than one of those guys who’d get a girl to come outside by pulling up to her place and laying on the horn, not even bothering to knock on the door. So, naturally, I did it to her all the time. I’d pull my Jag up to her house, honk, then put on this over-the-top act like I was totally exasperated. Gia would do the same thing every time; she’d come out of her house laughing and give me a little shove when she got into the car.
“Finally,” I’d say. “Oh yeah – I don’t have any money. Can you cover dinner?”
She’d laugh at that joke too, calling me an asshole. Then I’d greet her normally, leaning in and planting a kiss on her sexy-as-fuck lips, her taste and scent rushing my senses.
That scent. It was strange. Back then, Gia’d always been something of a tomboy, so naturally, she wasn’t into girly stuff like perfume. Me, I loved my Drakkar Noir, and she never failed to bust my balls about it. But she still always managed to smell so damn good. Even now I could imagine that smell, like lilacs and cotton candy and pure sex. Just closing my eyes and bringing it back to mind was enough to make my cock shift.
So, no horn. I parked in one of the open spots and got out, taking in the sight of the apartment complex. It was one of those newish places, three stories tall with entrances on the outside of the buildings. I trotted up the stairs and to her apartment, giving the door a quick knock once I was in front of it.
Nothing. No response.
Fucking hell. Is she really going to blow me off? Not surprising, but majorly disappointing.
Truth be told, she had all the reason in the world to not want to go with me. But my strategy was simple – ignore it, pretend it didn’t happen. After all, it was only a weekend together. No sense in getting caught up in the past. We could have a little fun in Vegas, then go our separate ways. Easy as could be.
Assuming she answered the door.
I waited a few more minutes, then knocked again, a little louder. This time I got a response.
“Hold on!” came an irritated voice from inside the apartment. “Give me a freaking second!”
“Take your time,” I called out, chuckling. I checked the time on my Omega diving watch, seeing that it was eight on the dot – right on time.
I heard the soft patter of footsteps moving closer and closer to the door, followed by the lock clicking
open and the knob turning. And there she was.
Sure, I’d seen her at the gala, and she’d looked so good it wasn’t even funny. No doubt Gia in that low-cut, dark green dress would be a frequent image in my solitary fantasies for years to come
But something about her dressed in a comfortable-looking outfit of slim, dark jeans, a fitted, navy-blue hoodie, and white Converse low-tops…she had an effect on me I hadn’t anticipated. She was dressed like the Gia I’d known in high school, the adorably awkward tomboy I’d fallen in love with.
Even the slightly impatient “what’re-you-looking-at” expression on her face was pure Gia. Her standing in front of me like that was enough to make me not only outrageously aroused, but to instill in me a strange longing, one I hadn’t felt for a woman in years.
“Right on the dot, huh?” she asked.
“Expecting something else?”
“Not sure what to expect from you these days,” she said, skepticism all over her face.
“You can expect an amazing weekend in Vegas,” I said, keeping the smile on my face. “Assuming you’re still planning on coming.”
“I’m standing here with my suitcase, aren’t I??”
There was an edge to her voice and words, one that was understandable. It was going to be up to me to make sure the bitter feelings from our past didn’t bubble up and ruin an otherwise fun weekend between old friends.
“That’s the spirit.” I spotted two small bags on the table in her kitchen area. “That’s all you’re packing?”
She glanced back, and the moment her attention was off me my eyes dropped, locking onto her perfect, round ass – it was like I didn’t have any control over myself. My cock twitched again, and I gave myself a quick internal scolding before she turned back around.
“It’s just two days in Vegas. Not like I need to pack much.”
I hadn’t dated all that much over the years, but I could easily imagine some of the other women I’d been involved with wanting to bring half their wardrobe.
“You’ve never been a typical woman, you know that?” I spoke through a warm smile, letting her know it was a compliment.
She didn’t say anything, instead glaring at me like I’d just insulted her.
“Wow, tough crowd,” I said, clearing my throat after I spoke. “Mind if I come in?”
She furrowed her brow, as if weighing the pros and cons of the idea. “Fine. But don’t get too comfortable – flight’s leaving in a little bit.”
“Private jet,” I said. “They’ll leave whenever we want to leave.”
Curiosity appeared on her gorgeous face. “What? I thought the tickets were for a normal flight?”
“They were,” I said. “But I decided to give us a little upgrade. It’s a quick flight, but I think we can do better than coach.”
Another curious expression, as if trying to figure out my angle. She stepped aside, and I walked into her place. It was a nice, cozy little apartment with a pretty damn picturesque view of the lake next to the complex, the Rocky Mountains rising in the far distance.
And there was that scent, the smell I’d always associated with her. It filled the place, making me feel a dizziness just as surely as if she’d pumped some kind of gas into the vents. I was turned on like mad, part of me wanting to wrap my arm around her waist, lift her off her feet, and carry her into the bedroom. But something told me that might not go over so hot.
I glanced at her bags. “Why don’t I get those for you?” Without waiting for her response, I stepped over to the table and prepared to pick up both bags.
But she wasn’t having any of it. Gia flew to the table, getting there right at the second I wrapped my fingers around the handle of the first bag. She grabbed the other, pulling it away from me.
“I got it,” she said. “I don’t need you carrying my bags for me.”
Now this was the Gia I’d fallen in love with all those years ago. She would’ve done the same thing even if there hadn’t been bad blood between us. Back in the day, Gia had always been the type to do things on her own, always playfully scoffing when I’d do cliché gentlemanly stuff like holding the door open or carrying her things.
“Always the independent type,” I murmured. “The more things change…”
“Mind if we go?” she asked impatiently, nodding toward the door.
“Yeah, we should head out.”
Gia did a quick pass through the apartment, turning off all the lights. I held back a grin, knowing what would be happening in the next twenty minutes or so once we were on the road. We stepped outside, and I watched as Gia locked her door before we headed down to the car.
“This is me,” I said, nodding toward my BMW.
“Nice ride,” she commented, her tone blasé. She’d never been overly impressed by material things. “Get tired of the Jag?”
“Still got it, actually – it’s parked in my garage.”
Her eyes flashed, as if she were intrigued. But the expression quickly disappeared, and I wondered if for a moment she’d been taken back to our time together, to the long drives we’d take during the spring we’d dated, nothing on our minds but each other and the breeze in our hair as we drove for miles and miles.
I opened the back door and placed her bag inside; she did the same with the one she was carrying. I let her open the door to her side on her own, and moments later we were off. We drove for ten minutes or so, and once more I was forced to keep my smile hidden as I watched worry creep over her features.
I couldn’t resist any longer. “You’re fine.”
“What?” she asked.
“You’re fine.”
“What’re you talking about?”
“G, you know what I’m talking about. How many times have I picked you up from your place and seen you do the same thing?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she sniffed, a tinge of impatience in her voice.
“Right now you’re thinking about if you turned all the lights off, if you made sure whatever burner you used to make breakfast was turned off, if you left something out.”
“That’s…not what I was thinking about.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Sure, it wasn’t. But if it makes you feel any better, every single time we’d go back to your house to check, they’d always be off.”
“Can you blame me for being worried?” she asked. “I don’t live with my parents anymore. If a burner’s on, then the whole building could go up.”
“You’re fine. Trust me.”
“Trust you?” I realized it was a bad choice of words as soon as I’d spoken them. It wasn’t like I’d done anything to earn her trust. “I mean, I saw you check everything before you left. You’re fine.”
She opened her mouth to speak, like she wanted to chew me out, to tell me she didn’t need me to tell her she was fine. But she snapped her mouth closed.
We drove in silence the rest of the way, eventually reaching the airport. I drove through the security barrier, the guard letting us in once he’d checked our IDs and confirmed we had a flight scheduled.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Gia was impressed as we approached the plane.
“We’re seriously taking this to Vegas? How many other people are we flying with?”
“Zero,” I said. “Hence private plane.”
I parked near the plane, and a valet took the key. Once we’d loaded the bags into the small cargo hold , he drove off, and Gia and I headed up the stairs and entered the plane.
“Wow,” she said, her tone genuine. “I was thinking we’d be in some four-person little Cessna or something. Nothing like this.”
I’d splurged a little on the plane, but it was worth it. It was spacious and luxurious, exactly what we’d need for an unforgettable trip to Vegas. We sat down and buckled up, and a half-hour later we were in the sky, clouds pooling around the peaks of the Rockies below. Gia sat next to me, her eyes on her phone.
“There’s WiFi,” I said.
&nb
sp; “Oh, good.” She took her MacBook out of her bag, opened it, and turned to me. “What’s the password?”
A beat of silence passed. “You’re not going to work the entire flight, are you?”
“Why not?” she asked, her eyes on the screen as she moved her fingertip around the trackpad. “What else would I be doing?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe talk to the person you’re taking the trip with?”
She lifted her eyes off the screen for a moment. “Why would I do that? What’s there for us to talk about?”
I reached over and placed my fingers on the top of the computer, closing it slowly.
“What the hell are you doing?”
No sense in putting the question off any longer. “Gia, are you ever going to forgive me?”
She seemed totally baffled by my question. “What’re you talking about? Forgive you for what?”
“Come on,” I said. “It’s one thing to still hold a grudge. It’s a whole other to pretend that nothing happened between us.”
She shook her head, turning toward me. “I’m not saying that nothing happened between us. I’m saying there’s nothing to forgive. We have our past, but it’s just that – past. We’re both grown-ups with careers and bills and everything else. Trust me, I don’t have the time to hold a grudge about some high school fling.”
At that moment, I had a choice. Gia was doing her best to act blasé, like I was the one who was crazy for even thinking there was something to be worried about. Gia was many, many things. She was brilliant, she was beautiful, and she was stubborn as they came. But she wasn’t a good liar.
I could’ve called her out on it, told her it was bullshit and I knew it. I didn’t. As much as I wanted to smooth things over between us, I wanted to have a nice trip with an amazing woman who I still cared about .
The lie was obvious, but she was offering me a choice. And I knew which one to make .
“Then how about this? Let’s have a drink?”
She smiled. “I’m down.”