Virginal Headlines: Love Between The Headlines

by Knoebel, Candace

  Prim?

  I wasn’t sure how long I stood there, studying her. How her head seemed to move with the scenes playing out inside her mind. A mind I wanted to get lost in.

  A waiter approached her table, and it was instantly obvious he was interested in her. The grin he flashed. The way he leaned over her when trying to point out things on the menu. But she didn’t buy into it. Instead, she pulled away. Dipped her head, hiding her face. I could only make out the slight curve of her chin. A pointed slope I wanted to run my lips over.

  She’d said the word. And the word came true. Serendipity. I wasn’t supposed to go out tonight. I hadn’t wanted to.

  But fate had another idea.

  Pulling the door open, I moved in behind her, a smile already spreading across my lips. “Serendipity.” The floral scent of her shampoo woke the nerves in the tip of my nose.

  She spun so fast her forehead collided with mine. “Oh, crap!” She rubbed her hand across the pale skin. “Grayson?”

  My name was music leaving her lips. A fucking symphony I’d only just discovered. My movement mimicked hers as I chuckled. I leaned over her shoulder, glancing at the book on her screen. “Wuthering Heights?”

  She tucked the device against her chest, pulling away from me. “I’m a sucker for the classics.”

  I liked how unwound she was around me. How the nearness of me seemed to scatter her thoughts. “She burned too bright for me.”

  “Huh?”

  I pointed to the book. “I’ve read it a few times myself.”

  The device was still pressed against her breast, safeguarded, as a flicker of confusion washed over her features.

  “I’m a closet nerd.” I leaned closer, filling her space, painting on my best smoldering smirk. “But that can be our little secret.”

  She tried to recover, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose as she shifted in her seat. “I didn’t take you for a reader.”

  “I wouldn’t make for a good Ravenclaw if I weren’t, now would I?”

  Her mouth popped open, surprise dancing in her eyes.

  “Let me guess,” I continued, reveling in shock value, “you’re a Hufflepuff, aren’t you?”

  “How did you—”

  I pointed to the yellow pin with a badger on it, one of many fastened to her tote.

  Smiling, she ran a finger over it. “Patronus?”

  I chuckled. “You’re going to laugh.”

  Her smile mirrored mine. “Tell me.”

  “A porcupine.”

  I was right. She did laugh, and it was the most pleasant sound I’d ever heard. “You?”

  “Pine Marten. It’s in the fox family.”

  A fox, eh? I’d like to test that out with her.

  I pointed to the chair across from her. Her head dipped with a small, hesitant nod.

  Taking a seat, I reached into her bag on the middle of the table. “Hot Fries?”

  Her mouth parted and then shut, fingers clenching around her Kindle.

  “What else do you have in here?” I reached farther in. “Dr. Pepper.” I smirked. “Pizza. Hmm. Seems like we both misjudged each other.”

  She yanked the bag away from me, then snatched the chips and drink off the table, putting it back in the bag. “And how is that?”

  Amused, I rested my cheek against my palm, enjoying every second of her saintly agitation. She was delectably adorable when disarmed. “I didn’t take you for a junk foodie.”

  “Yeah, well, you shouldn’t be digging into a stranger’s bag.”

  “But you’re not a stranger, Primrose.”

  A second later, her name was called from behind the counter. She tucked her Kindle away and then stood.

  I followed suit, not wanting to let her go just yet. “I can carry those to your place for you if you’d like.” I picked up the remaining tote from the floor, hoping she’d give me a chance.

  She pulled on the strap of her bag, studying me for a moment, then something shifted in her pale eyes. A fire seeming to stoke to life. “I was drunk the other night. I might have… might have led you on. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

  After she pulled the tote from my hand, she headed out the front door without another word.

  Fuck.

  Rushing out, I jogged to catch up with her, staying a step behind.

  “You’re following me.”

  “It isn’t safe on the streets at this time of night.” It was mostly true. It really wasn’t safe, but I wasn’t following her just to protect her. I wanted to talk to her. To breathe the same air she was breathing.

  She stopped so abruptly I nearly collided with her. “You know, this could be considered stalking.”

  Though her words carried a bite, her eyes said otherwise. They were softer when they were on me.

  “I’d beg to differ.”

  She pulled the totes closer to her. “Oh, yeah? How so?”

  “Would Jonathon have given up on Sara that easily?”

  This time, her mouth fell open. “You watched it?”

  I gave an absentminded shrug. “I had time, and there was nothing else on. I do like the idea of handing things over to fate.”

  Her mouth fought with words hidden behind her lips. Her expression softened just a fraction, the earlier doubt shifting into something more like curiosity.

  “Here.” She handed the totes to me, keeping her purse on her arm. “Fate says you can carry these up three flights of stairs.”

  I couldn’t stop the grin that broke out across my face. I followed her two more blocks before we stopped in front of an old brick building. Craning my neck, I peered to the top. “You live on the third floor?”

  Her hair shielded her face as she put her key in the door. “Yeah. The owner rents out the second and third floor. It was all I could find. Besides, I’m closer to the roof, which is a lovely place to sit at night.” She paused a beat. “I used to… used to study the stars back home. Although I can’t really see them here, it brings me comfort knowing they’re there.”

  She loved stars. Noted.

  Once inside, I followed her up, glad it was only two bags I had to carry. I remembered the days when I lived in a small apartment like this. Rooms as big as a closet. A kitchen the size of a bathroom.

  “It’s good exercise.”

  “You can say that again,” I said as we stood outside her door.

  She paused just before opening it, one hand resting on the knob, the other on the door. With her back to me, she asked, “I can trust you. Can’t I, Grayson?”

  I wasn’t sure what it was about those words. I’d heard them before, from many different women, but they never sounded as uncertain and fragile as when she said them. Like she was the most expensive piece of porcelain placed in my hands to carry across a rocky ship.

  “Yes,” I said, knowing full well I meant it. I felt an odd sensation pull at my gut.

  “Good.” She pushed the door open, then guided me to the kitchen that was just to the side of the front door. Sparkling lights hung from the ceiling, draping the walls decorated with posters and photos. Everything about the small space felt intimate. Personal. Real.

  Setting down the totes on the kitchen counter, I gawked. “Is that Space Jam?” I asked, walking up to one of the posters.

  “It was one of my favorite movies growing up.”

  Beside it, there were posters of The Rugrats, Doug, and The Lion King. “You’re nineties obsessed.”

  Her shoulders lifted a fraction. “I’m a nineties baby. What can I say?”

  “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-three. You?”

  “Twenty-four.”

  She pulled two glasses from a cabinet before turning to the sink. “Sign?”

  “Scorpio.”

  A hidden smile played at the corner of her lips as her fingers tapped against the side of the glass.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. I was just thinking it explains your flirtatious side.”

  “How about you?�
� I took the glass of water she offered, desperate to know more about her. Anything, just as long as it kept her talking.

  “Pisces.” She turned coyly away from me, giving me only glimpses of the side of her face.

  I leaned against the bar. “Are they compatible?”

  She rolled her eyes, but it was a contradiction against the smile on her face. “Yes. I think so.”

  I took a large sip of water, then set the glass on the counter, which put me inches from her. Heat swelled between us. Awareness cast a spell in the air. I couldn’t explain the electricity that happened when I was around her. It was like she took every bit of game I had and spun it on its ass. I was senseless with her. Helpless. Like a sputtering flame, desperate for her to breathe life back into me.

  Her eyes lit up at my nearness, but then she spun from under my arms and headed into the kitchen. “Here,” she said, tossing something my way. “A pack of gummies for your troubles.”

  I glanced at it strangely. “I’ve never been paid with gummies before.”

  “There’s a first time for everything.” She was bent over, placing soda into the fridge, which gave me the perfect view of her small rounded ass. She wore jeans like a fitted glove. The subtle heart-shaped curve to her hips made my mouth water. When she spun, I looked away, running a hand through my hair, trying to find something else to focus on.

  “That’s… uh… that’s a nice view.”

  It was of the building across the street. The backyard was full of garbage. Stacks of metal. Wood. I only had to take a few steps to view the entire apartment. The living room was part of the bedroom. The bathroom just beyond that.

  She giggled. “Yeah, if you like staring at brick all day.” Closing the fridge, she moved to the counter. “Listen, thank you for helping me. For walking me home. It was very… sweet of you.”

  I knew that tone. She was kicking me out.

  Already?

  “Don’t mention it.” I moved around the counter. Stared at her mouth. When I moved in for a kiss, she turned her head away at the last moment. My lips connected with her cheek. I’d take what I could get.

  Gently, I kissed her soft skin.

  “Oh, Mr. Pierce,” she said when I pulled back. “You’re going to have to do better than carrying groceries in order to steal a kiss.” Her tone was sure, but I didn’t miss the wobble to her knees.

  Something in how she said my name had my blood stirring with excitement. What was it with this girl? She turned me inside out with nothing but her words.

  “Will I see you again?”

  Her hands rose with a tangerine smile to her lips. “If it’s in the cards, I suppose.”

  Not a definitive no, but also not a yes. I could work with it.

  She started for the door. Pulled it open, leaning her head against the frame.

  I wouldn’t leave without calling her bluff. Without knowing for sure if she was into me. I stopped just in front of her. Moved my lips just a breath from hers, keeping my eyes fastened on them. To the irresistible slope my tongue wanted to ride down.

  She didn’t move as her chest heaved up and down at a clipped pace. The current in the air on full blast.

  With a smirk, I said, “You’re stubborn. I get it. But guess what…? I am too.” Pulling away from her, I headed to the door. Tipping my proverbial hat, I added, “Until next time, Ms. Amberly.”

  The Most Fun

  That night, I dreamed for the first time in years. Prim was standing in front of me, just out of reach. Her hand extended, a soft smile on her lips. She was saying something I couldn’t make out. I chased after her, only to find myself standing in the middle of a burning room. Her Kindle was on the ground, and I’d known she was somewhere in there, trapped, but I couldn’t leave the ring of flames moving in on me.

  I awoke with a startle, sweat slipping down the sides of my face and soaking my sheets. I felt it then, the past pushing from behind the door where I kept it—beating against the frail frame. Reaching for the glass of water by my bed, I chugged it. Breathed through the fading images from the dream.

  It was only a dream. The past was only the past.

  The next couple of days were uneventful as I worked with the IT team on the launch of the new site on the Stud blog I’d created. It would feature episodes by a new department of women. They’d be dishing out advice for men.

  I kept my eye out for Prim everywhere I went, sort of like an I Spy game, but never ran into her. I didn’t like how my stomach would sink on my way home every night. Though the game of chase was fun, this wasn’t for the typical prize. I wasn’t looking to ‘get in her pants’ as she so adorably put it. No… I wanted to get into her mind. Find every dark crevice. Let her find all of mine.

  The night of the event, I made my usual rounds. The art pieces made by various women at the women’s shelter we supported were on display, waiting to be auctioned. The DJ was setting up the last of the equipment to the karaoke station that would be opened shortly after the wet bars were. All the proceeds raised for buying time to sing went to the charity.

  The night started with the usual speeches, all circling around the importance of taking care of those in our city. After dessert was served—ice cream from the very shop, Blackbird Creamery, that put the charity on the map—everyone was encouraged to drink and dance. I sat near the back of the room, scrolling through various posts with the hashtag I created for the event. I tried to gain perspective on how well things were going, when the last voice I expected to hear slid over my shoulder like a warm touch.

  “Serendipity.”

  I turned in my chair. “Prim?”

  A whoosh of air rushed out of my lungs at the sight of her. She wore a dress the color of sun-kissed wheat that hugged and flowed in all the right places, enhancing the bright blue of her summer eyes. Her dark hair was pinned up, a few wayward strands brushing against her long, porcelain neck. A neck that dipped into the most exquisitely heart-shaped bust line.

  My mouth watered, heart set to a pattering pace.

  Her beauty was rare, coveted, like spotting a shooting star on a foggy night.

  Clutching her purse to her chest, she said, “I was given a ticket to the event while at work, and I had nothing better to do. I was placing my name in the main drawing when I spotted you across the room.” She pointed to where she had come from. “Thought it would be a perfect surprise.”

  Standing, I leaned closer to her, lips just a breath from her ear. Drunk on the nearness of her scent. “Who’s stalking who now?”

  When her gaze caught mine, a quiet smile gently spread across red lips, my heart tripped over itself like a clumsy adolescent. “Touché.”

  “So.” I tucked my wolfish hands into my pocket to keep from pulling her closer. “Work, huh? Must be a relevant employer to be on this guest list.”

  Her teeth toyed with her bottom lip, a daring glint in her eyes. “Is that a karaoke machine?” She peered over my shoulder, the soft flesh of her neck lifting.

  “Yeah. You sing?”

  “Occasionally. I was classically trained by the radio.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  Her head gave an earnest nod, the smile lingering on her lips mirroring my own. “I’ve been known to do solo performances in the shower. In the car. You know, all the best venues.”

  “Well, then, let me alert the DJ. I’m dying to hear your radio-trained voice. And…” I said with a finger pointed in the air, “you’ll be aiding the charity. My treat.”

  There it was, the first blush of the night, rising the like the sun behind each curved cheek. I was addicted to the soft crimson color. To making it ignite beneath her skin.

  “How about this?” she said with a wicked grin. “I’ll sing if you sing.”

  I chuckled. “I can’t hold a note to save my life. I’d be doing this entire room a favor by staying away from the mic.”

  She giggled in soft, buttery spurts, the lovely sound interrupted by the hand that fell on my shoulder, large and thick.
/>   I turned a fraction, already knowing who it was.

  “You didn’t tell me you were bringing a plus-one,” Harrison said as he opened our space into a small circle. The loud din of chatter swimming around us.

  Already, a line had formed for the karaoke sign ups. An older woman in a black gown was on stage, slurring her way through a Barbara Streisand song.

  Harry fastened his attention to Prim, offering a golden grin. “And who might you be?” He reached for her extended hand. Laid a kiss to it, full of a charm that woke a bit of jealousy in me. Of course he’d be the first to kiss her before I even got a chance. Even if it was just her hand.

  “Primrose Amberly,” I said, pulling her against my hip.

  “Primrose. What a beautiful name.”

  “Thank you,” she said with a small dip of her head.

  “I’m Harrison Cunningham.”

  Her eyes widened ever so slightly, but the expression was quickly replaced with a thin smile. “I’ve heard of you. You own Stud. What was it you wrote…? ‘A man’s heart is both his greatest weapon and his greatest undoing’? That was very… deep. Tell me, is it true?”

  “Wherever did you find this peach?” Harrison said to me.

  I smiled down at her. “She found me.”

  “I can smell a journalist in you.” His chuckle was as boisterous as his personality. “Where did you say you worked?”

  “I didn’t.” Her smile was sickeningly sweet. I thought I might have even picked up on a note of disdain and sarcasm in her words.

  His eyes narrowed on her like the hound dog he was. “You said she found you?”

  “More like bumped into,” Prim quickly added. “At a bagel shop. It was quite the catastrophe. Ended up with a broken Kindle and a sore forehead.”

  “Hmm…” Harrison said, eying her.

  I liked this side of Prim. Feisty. Unpredictable. Most women fell at the feet of Harrison and his old-school charm, which compared to the best of them—like Robert Redford and Clint Eastwood. But she didn’t. She almost seemed… put off by him. Almost as if she were spawned from Quinn’s arsenal.

  But that would mean…

  “Anyway, I came by because the journalist from The Times wants to chat with you. I told him I’d send you his way,” Harrison said. “Just watch what you say.”