by Stacy M Wray
As soon as I see Braden’s parents making their way over, I know the time has arrived to remove myself from the chaos about to ensue. I quickly tell Braden I’ll talk to him later…I know he’ll call me when he gets home. He gives my hand a quick squeeze and turns his attention back to Mr. Taflinger.
* * *
Lying in my bed, wondering what could take Braden so long to call, I can’t help but think about what Jeremy said about following Braden to college. I had never thought about it before but I realize the whole process of choosing a college has been bypassed. Now that I think about it, my parents have made comments in the past, but I just hadn’t picked up on it.
My phone rings around eleven-thirty and I pounce on it.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” I tell him back.
There’s a short pause and he says, “How do you feel about going to UCLA?” For a split second, uneasiness spreads through me like wildfire, but it disappears as quickly as it came, Braden’s excitement overtaking my fear.
“Oh my God! They offered you everything?”
I can sense his huge smile through the phone, “And then some.”
“Oh my God, Braden – that’s so…I’m so proud of you. You did it!” I wish he could’ve told me the news in person because I so want to see the look on his face. I want to feel his reassuring arms around me, and I want him to see how proud I am…how happy I am for him.
“Come outside.”
I take a minute to register what he just said. “What?”
He laughs and says again, “Come. Outside.” I jump off my bed and flee to the window, pulling the curtain to the side and see him leaning up against his car, his legs crossed in front of him with his phone to his ear, and a huge smile on his face. He motions for me and then ends our call.
I step into my slippers and throw a hoodie over my pajamas and quietly head downstairs and out the front door, running to him.
Taking me in his arms, his fresh scent invades my nostrils and I breathe him in, wishing I could bottle that smell that I’m so familiar with. I know it’s just his soap, but mixed with his own essence, it’s downright intoxicating.
I hear him laugh softly. “Are you smelling me?”
With no hesitation or embarrassment, I tell him, “Yes…I love the way you smell,” my words tumbling out in a whisper. Then I pull back, looking at him, and ask, “What are you doing here? I can’t believe your parents let you come over so late?”
“I had to see you. They didn’t like it so much but I just walked out and told them I’d be back shortly.” His actions shock me – he never does anything against his parents’ wishes.
He searches my eyes and says, “Thank you for being on this journey with me. I can’t imagine anyone else beside me, Karma.”
“I love you…” He brings his lips to mine, his tongue sweeping across them, begging for entrance. I get lost in his kiss, our tongues dancing around one another, our lips never wanting to end the connection.
And I feel.
I feel so connected to this boy. This boy who has invaded my thoughts continually. This boy who so patiently waited for me to realize he was the one. This boy who has always made me a top priority in his life. This boy who loves me back fiercely.
He possesses me… mind, body, and spirit, and I willingly surrender my soul to him. And I know at this moment I will follow him anywhere.
Suddenly, I can’t wait to find out the results of the last SAT I took. I am motivated to make sure I get into UCLA. Braden made sure I was prepared when I sat for the test three weeks ago.
He places his hands on the sides of my head. “We’re on our way, babe. Everything’s falling into place.”
“Well, I haven’t been admitted yet, Braden.”
“In the big scheme of things, that’s just a minor detail. I’m not worried.” I’m glad he has enough confidence for the both of us – I don’t want to let him down. And I’m not agreeing with the minor detail – it’s pretty huge.
He kisses me again with so much more urgency – the kind that can’t be ignored. His hands roam my body, ending up on my backside, pushing me into him. His mouth trails over to my ear. “God, I want you so bad, Karma.” That one sentence ignites the flame within, leaving me a molten mess.
But right now isn’t just about sex…I can feel the vibe between us. The fervor being shared can’t be described with mere words. I understand his urgency; needing to connect in the most natural of ways.
I can’t risk taking him inside so I grab his hand and say, “Come on.”
With no hesitation, he follows me to our back porch. He knows exactly what I have in mind when he spots the loveseat. He sits down on it, and I climb on top of him, straddling him.
Wrapping my hands around his neck, our mouths come together, slowly now, eliciting a moan that escapes from his throat. His hands slide under the layers of my shirts, finding my breasts bare, with no barriers. I whimper against his lips, letting him know how much I need his touch.
He pulls away long enough to say, “I hate that we have to do this out here.” Our eyes meet and I see his frustration. I feel the same way.
My hands find the button on his jeans, swiftly undoing it and sliding down his zipper. He suddenly takes control, pushing his jeans off of his hips, telling me, “Slip off one pant leg.” His voice is raspy and low, and I do as he says and climb back on.
Braden slides his hand up and down my bare thigh, trying to keep me warm, as I line him up at my entrance and slowly sit down on him. His breath catches and he says, “God, Karma…”
My hands thread through his hair as he fills me up, the sensation almost unbearable. I relish how he feels bare inside me…no more condoms since I went on the pill a few months ago. The first time we had sex without a condom, I thought Braden would die of pleasure. It was amazing for both of us.
It doesn’t take us long to find our release, Braden muffling mine by kissing me and trying to keep me halfway quiet. I suddenly can’t wait to be at college together so we can be together any time we want and not on a loveseat on my back porch.
He lifts me off of him, helping me put my leg back in my pajama pants, and then zips himself up. He brings me back on his lap and holds me tight. “God, I love you.” His words are muffled as he speaks into my hair.
I smile as I snuggle into his chest, knowing he has to get home. I always wish we had more time.
“As much as I don’t want to, I’d better get going. It is a school night…”
I slowly nod my head against him. I whisper, “I know.”
He lifts my head up and kisses me sweetly and stands up still holding on to me, my legs slowly lowering to the ground. “Walk me to my car.”
I follow him to his car parked out front, and he hugs me once more. “What a day…that was a great way to end it.” I smile at him, silently agreeing.
“I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” I tell him.
Giving me a chaste kiss, he says, “Night, Karma.”
I walk back up to the front of my house.
Turning the knob slowly, I push the door open little by little so it doesn’t squeak and betray my outing. Tip-toeing upstairs to my bedroom, I can’t help but smile to myself that he couldn’t go to sleep until he saw me.
Even his own parents couldn’t stop him.
chapter fifteen
May 2013
I can barely keep my eyes open, the images swimming in a sea of fuzz. I glance at the clock. Two-fifteen a.m. I’ve been battling with myself all night, telling myself that he really won’t expect my photos in his inbox by morning. But, on the other hand, what if he does? I can’t afford for any negative light to be associated with Karson Designs. Not when I’m desperately trying to build my resume.
And then there’s the wicked fight I had with Lee. I couldn’t deal with his questions, knowing I had all of this work ahead of me. There is no explaining Braden’s actions anyway. There’s no excusing him, not that I would try.
How did my life tu
rn upside down so quickly?
My phone rings, startling me at this hour. I turn the screen towards me, sighing heavily. Braden.
God, now what? Is he going to demand the photos within the hour?
Not knowing if I should answer or not, my finger hovers over the screen. I slide the bar. I guess I’m a glutton for punishment. “What do you want, Braden.” My words sound empty, devoid of all emotion – exactly how I feel.
“Karma…” Jesus, just by that one word, I can tell he’s been drinking. This will not end well. “You there?”
I release an exasperated breath before answering. “Yes.”
“Oh.” There’s more silence and I’m about ready to hang up on him. “I called to apologize. I was an ass.”
No shit! “Uh-huh.” He’s still your boss. He’s still your boss.
“Jesus, Karma, say something.” He groans his frustration through the phone. If only I could reach through this phone and choke his stupid little neck.
“What do you want me to say, Braden? I can’t really speak my mind – you’re my boss, remember?”
“No. Not right now. I’m not your boss, Karma. I swear – you can say anything you want. Off the record.”
“Fine. You want me to talk? I’ll talk. You were the biggest asshole tonight! How dare you treat me like that and embarrass me in front of Lee! And how dare you demand these photos be edited tonight – knowing damn well I had to cancel any plans I previously – ”
“You don’t have to finish them. I didn’t mean it, okay? I’m sorry.” There’s a long pause and he says, “Fuck. Were you actually doing them?”
Unable to answer him, I shut my laptop and set it aside before I throw it.
“Karma?”
“Yes, Braden, I’ve been up all night editing. Happy?”
He sighs into the phone. “No. I’m not. I’m not happy about anything. Especially with how I behaved.”
“Look, Braden. I don’t want to do this. I’m deliriously tired, and I just want to go to sleep.”
An uncomfortable silence ensues. So long that I’m not even sure he’s still on the line. “Do you love him?” His words are spoken so softly, I could barely hear them. I wonder if he even meant for me to hear them.
“Goodnight, Braden.”
I end the call.
You’d think I’d fall asleep instantly after the night I’ve had. Instead, my mind goes over that whole ugly scene between Braden and Lee. Braden’s actions spoke loud and clear – he’s clearly jealous. And if he’s jealous, then there still must be feelings other than that of a friend.
What in hell am I supposed to with that?
Or maybe it’s that he wants what he can’t have. This is a natural human reaction that we exhibit from time to time, right? Maybe that’s the explanation.
Whatever is going on needs to stop. I can’t work this way – feeling like I’m being tugged in two different directions.
In an attempt to focus my direction elsewhere so I can sleep, I begin reciting my favorite poem in my head. I think that I shall never see a poem lovely as a tree. A tree whose hungry mouth is pressed…
The following morning I find Jada at the breakfast bar balancing her checkbook.
“Dammit!” She slams the lid of her computer shut. I raise an eyebrow at her as I follow my nose to the coffee pot. She looks up in surprise, immediately grinning. “Oh, hey. I didn’t know you were up.” Eying the source of her frustration, she says, “Me and numbers – we just don’t mix. I’m off 72.45 in my bank account, and I can’t find it for the life of me.”
“On the plus or minus side?” I know that’s probably a stupid question after witnessing her little fit. I open the fridge door, leaning in to grab my creamer.
“Minus,” she mumbles. “This isn’t how I want to be spending my morning, ya know?”
“Completely understand.” I walk around and pull out the stool beside her, hoisting myself up to the bar. We sit in silence for a few minutes, Jada probably stewing about her miscalculations while I think about how to erase the last couple of days as I gingerly sip the scalding liquid in my mug.
Setting my coffee down, I swivel my seat towards Jada. “Hey – what are your plans tonight?”
She perks up, half-way interested. “No plans yet. Why? You got something in mind?”
Yes! Something that involves no whiny-ass men.
Both of my brows lift as I smile at her. “How about using your contacts to get us into a swanky nightclub tonight. Surely in your line of work you’ve rubbed elbows with some VIPs.”
“Girls’ night out?”
“Exactly. How about it?” I have no idea what I’m getting myself into – I’ve not been to anything like that since I’ve been in L.A., steering clear of the chaotic atmosphere. Oddly, it sounds appealing to me right now.
The smile on her face grows as she inventories important people who might be of use to us. “Let me see what I can do. In the meantime, you better start searching your closet for a killer dress.”
My mood instantly lifts after the night I had.
Yes, this is just what I need.
Later that day finds me at the nearest mall since my closet lacked the proper attire for a night out on the town. My budget can’t swing some of the places Jada likes to frequent. Surprisingly, it didn’t take too long to find the perfect little black dress, or LBD, as it’s known in the fashion world.
The silky material hugs my body from the waist up, its halter collar wrapping around my neck, leaving my shoulders exposed. Understatedly sexy. The bottom flares out slightly, revealing a slight flounce and hangs a few inches above my knees. I love the way that it makes me feel a little bit daring.
I even find a place in the mall that takes walk-ins for a last-minute pedicure since the shoes I have in mind call for such a splurge.
Next on my list? Taking a much needed nap. Staying up until past two in the morning has me hitting a brick wall after my little excursion.
* * *
After witnessing the line to get in, I thank Jada again for making some phone calls as we bypass the poor souls standing in the misty drizzle that’s been hanging around all day. It’s not the weather I’m grateful for avoiding but standing in these shoes. I’m okay if I keep moving but I don’t think I’ll make it if I have to stand for over an hour to make it through the door.
Upon entering, the scene inside renders me speechless. My attention focuses on the ceiling above, the beveled sides of it slope to the top in a shade of wood so light that it takes on the appearance of gold. At the edge of the wood, small square boxes illuminate the way to the glowing blue neon glass tubes that delicately hang from the middle, winding and twisting in an intricate pattern. A second level encompasses the entire floor, partitioned by glass that overlooks the faux brick dance floor. High-back black leather tufted booths surround the dancing mass of people while small round black leather tables sit in front of each booth, the neon lights from above causing a haphazard pattern to glow and stand out from each one.
Jada takes my hand, leading me to one end of the dance floor where the stairs are placed. “Come on,” she shouts in my ear, hoping to be heard above the techno music, “I’ve reserved us a table.”
Who needs alcohol? The atmosphere alone is intoxicating. But we order shots of tequila anyway. Go big or go home, right?
I feed off the energy that buzzes around me. Okay, and, if I’m honest, half that buzz coursing through me is tequila-related. I never do this and it feels good. Fun.
Jada motions her head to the dance floor since it proves difficult to talk over the music. Nodding, I follow her down the steps and we weave our way through sweaty hordes of people to a spot on the faux brick, wondering how in the hell we’re supposed to move in this sea of sardines.
But move we do as we lose ourselves in the thump thump thump of the music, one song after the other. I’m shocked when a warm body presses up against my back, grabbing me by the hips and moving right along with me. When the shock wears o
ff, I go with it, not turning around to see who the hands belong to. I secretly love the mystery, totally relying on my own imagination as to the owner of my faceless partner.
The real thing must not be half-bad going by the expression on Jada’s face.
But after two more songs, I need water. Now. Motioning to Jada, I point upstairs and then point to my throat. Understanding, we begin to make our way back to the stairs, but not before I turn around to reveal the identity of the man who had his hands plastered to my hips, silently thanking him for the dances.
And Jada’s expression was spot on.
Gripping the back of Jada’s dress, I hang on as she weaves us through the horde of dancers, eventually finding our way back to our booth on the second floor.
After ordering our waters, Jada spots someone she knows and leaves our booth to say hello. I stay seated until my water arrives, then make my way to the glass partition. Resting my forearms on top of the smooth, cool metal, I observe the mass below me, taking frequent small sips of the ice-cold water; feeling renewed with each one.
The dance floor has me mesmerized. The longer I stare, the more the crowd appears to be moving in slow motion. Finally, I snap out of my daze when I notice a particularly handsome man walking up the stairs to the opposite side as me, pulling along a beautiful blond. He catches my eye because he looks an awful lot like Lee.
Is it Lee?
My eyes strain, attempting to get a better look before the couple reaches the top of the stairs and blend into the darkness on the other side of the bar. Finally, he turns to the woman behind him, smiling at her, before disappearing from my sight.
My stomach leaps when recognition registers. I’m sure that was him. No, I can’t be totally sure, but my gut says it was.
Who was that woman?
The longer I stand here attempting to figure out what I just saw, an unusual realization occurs. Why am I more bothered by the fact I can’t be sure it was him than I am that he’s here with another woman?
We’ve only been seeing each other a few weeks, never having defined what exactly this is – no labels – and neither of has mentioned the term exclusive so I’m not sure I’m allowed to be bothered at all.