by L. Duarte
He remains quiet. Damn you, I mentally cringe. I attempt to get up, but his arm snaked around me, doesn’t budge. Is he mad? I don’t know. My nerves are stretched so thin, they are about to snap.
Finally, he slowly raises a hand, brushes the hair falling on my face, and tucks it behind my ear.
“What are your plans for today?” His voice is husky and so damn sexy.
I have a hard time following him. Is he not making sense, or am I not thinking straight?
“What? I, uh. What time is it?” My heart is thudding.
“I want to show you something. Can you come away with me?” His hand is back on my hip. I swoon.
I tried to remember what we did last night. My memory only returns flashes of me puking. On him. Ewww, seriously?
“Now?” It’s still night, I think.
“Yeah. In fact, we need to go right this moment.” He hesitates before letting go of me.
“Where?” I ask.
“If you want to know, you’re going to have to come.” He gets up, strolls to the armoire, and fishes out a button-down shirt.
I notice we slept on the floor, instead of his bed. Why?
I get up and grimace, my head is pounding. “Please, slap me in the face if I ever drink again.”
“I will get some coffee going.” He pulls a pair of black jeans over his boxers, and slides into a pair of black Converses.
“You can get dressed in the bathroom.” He gesture to my jeans, undergarments, and a plain shirt neatly folded on the edge of his bed. “I washed them for you. I’m afraid your blouse is beyond repair. You’re going to have to wear my shirt.” He walks to the kitchen.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
I am flushed and confused. I look down noticing for the first time I am wearing his underwear and shirt. No wonder his glorious scent is still with me.
I gather my clean clothes and shuffle to the bathroom. I dress in a hurry, tucking the white shirt inside my jeans. I glance in the mirror and it doesn’t look half-bad. I splash cold water on my face and finger comb my untamed hair, wondering what I would give for an aspirin.
Add mind reading to all things Will. On the kitchen counter are a glass of OJ and a bottle of aspirin. I pop the pills into my dry mouth and gulp the juice down, realizing how thirsty I am.
He holds two travel mugs of coffee. “Ready?”
“I guess,” I mumble, unsure of myself.
We leave through the back exit. He hands me a coffee and locks the door.
“My Jeep is parked a few blocks from here. Do you mind walking a bit?” He looks down at me and reaches for my hand.
God, who is this guy? Never mind. I like him. He is a keeper.
“No, I don’t.” We walk down the silent road, our fingers intertwined. Though it is still night, a deep violet-blue color that precedes dawn tints the sky. I don’t have money, a purse, or a cell phone. I don’t care. Do I feel free and happy? Yeah. For an unfathomable reason, I am willing to follow Will to wherever he takes me.
We get to the garage where Will keeps his Jeep. We climb in the car and Will drives out of the city. Hues of a midnight blue tell me the sun will rise soon. I smile inwardly, realizing I am up before sunrise. Questioning my sanity, I can already picture the headlines. “Extra, extra, actress gone mad.”
Peering out of the window, I read a sign welcoming us to Connecticut. I tie my hair in a knot at the nape of my neck and Will looks amused at me.
“Can you tell me where we are going now?” My fingers curl around the mug and I taste the coffee. A thrill runs through my body. Blissfully, I notice that the awful hangover is gone.
“Nah, sorry,” his voice is playful, but his eyes are unreadable.
“Not even a hint?” I tease back.
“God, you are curious.” He smiles, and his eyes sparkle.
Warmth envelops my body. I resist the urge to reach for his hand resting between us. Did I mention his mind reading abilities? Oh well. He reaches for my hand, bringing it to his lap. His thumb strokes lightly on my knuckles.
I look at our intertwined fingers. There is so much tenderness to the gesture. I ignore the part of my head screaming, “He is married!” In fact, I choke the sound down. If I can have him for a day, hell, I’ll take it.
I flirt my way through life. I flirt to charm some, to piss off others, and mostly to protect myself from being hurt. Today, when I glance at his smile, I don’t want to flirt, I want the real me to come out. Do I think it is going to last? Nope. I know better. But I have this moment. When the day is over, I will have the memory.
Lost in thought, I barely notice him getting off at a highway exit.
“Where are we?” I ask.
“Stratford,” he replies.
Is that supposed to mean anything to me? “Oh.”
He drives in and out of deserted streets of a suburban town. Finally, he pulls over at a deserted beach.
He gets out and sprints to open the passenger door. With a delicious grin on his face, he holds his hand out to me. His eyes are fixed on mine and the hidden promises on his stare unravel me.
Hand in hand, we ramble alongside the water for a few minutes. Will stops, facing the water. As if on cue, the sun breaks forth from behind the water. My world is still and my gaze locks on the magnificent act of nature unfolding before me. I sense Will’s eyes staring at my face as he watches me watch the dawning.
“Wow. This is beautiful, Will,” I murmur.
“Yeah. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” His words pierce through my heart.
All self-preservation tossed aside, I turn, and my eyes seek his.
This is so wrong. I can flirt with him to my heart’s desire, but fall for a guy, am I insane?
Will looks at me and, for a moment, I feel as though there is only the two of us in the world. A small part of me tells me this is so wrong. To hell with it, I can’t deny the chemistry, intensely humming between us. My lips are prickling with a desperate desire to kiss him. For once, I want him to want me. Screw the wrongness of it all.
Will’s hands cradle my face and his eyes bear deep into my soul. I feel exposed, like never before. He lowers his head and whispers, “You are so incredibly beautiful.” His lips touch mine and his tongue runs along my lips. He sucks and nibbles on my lower lip. Trembling, I part my mouth, inviting him in. I feel his tongue invading my mouth. It is sweet, but demanding. His hand slides to my lower back and he pulls me closer to him.
I don’t think anything could ever erase this moment from my memory. It feels right. It feels sacred. Mental unit here I come. I am probably insane. No, I am insane. For sure.
Will pulls away and whispers against my lips, “Sunrise is a reminder that every day is a new beginning.” He kisses me again, and I don’t think I can take it. My knees buckle and I grasp his shoulders. His grip tightens around me. I wonder if he realizes the effect that he has on my body.
After we kiss for a long time, we sit on the sand.
“Will?” I am huddled on his side.
“Yeah?” He kisses my head.
“Did, um, did anything happen last night?” I inquire nervously, hoping he doesn’t take offense about me forgetting whatever happened.
“You puked, a lot.” He pauses. “On me mostly.” His voice is relaxed and he sounds young and carefree. “I got you naked.” I don’t see his face, but I hear the smile in his voice. “I bathed and dressed you. I laid you on my bed, but sometime during the night, you just couldn’t resist my awesomeness and jumped on the floor with me. But no, nothing happened.”
His arms are holding me tight against him. I feel more confused than ever. Why is he acting this way? I am sure he had his chance to have sex with me last night. Why didn’t he? I want to ask him what that is all about. But, I don’t. I just can’t ruin the moment. I just relish his company, musing that no one has ever baffled me this way before.
“We need to go. We don’t want to be late,” he tells me as he glances at his watch. “More
than we already are.”
“Where to?” I look up, puzzled.
“To the place I want to show you.” He stands and helps me up.
“Oh. This is not it?” I follow him.
“No. I just thought it would be nice to stop by to see the sunrise. I used to run here every morning.” He opens the door, and before I get in, his lips cover mine. The kiss is brief, but intense.
“God, you taste so good.” His lips arch on the side for a smile, and I melt like a freaking teenager.
He turns the engine, and we head to our destination, wherever that is. I’m intrigued. Can this get any better? After driving for a few minutes, he pulls over on a parking lot filled with cars in front of a white church. I frown. I’ve seen it all, when it comes to dating, but a church?
Will rushes around the car and swings open the passenger door. He grabs my hand, dragging me toward the building. I follow him, struggling to keep up with his longs legs.
He pushes open the heavy red door and ushers me in. The interior smells of flowers and lemongrass. Our steps tap on the polished floor as we bypass the back seats filled with parishioners and move through the building. All eyes are riveted on us. I am stunned, and tense. He must sense it because he squeezes my hands as he guides me to the third row. We each slide into a seat and I bite my lower lip.
I realize the pastor is gesturing to us. “Oh, isn’t that Will?” A grin spreads across the preacher’s face.
I am beyond confused. I am an actress for crying out loud. I have thousands, maybe millions, of people staring my way without fazing me. Why the hell do I feel an urge to have the polished floor open and swallow me out of my misery?
“Since you brought such a lovely visitor, we will forgive your tardiness, son,” the preacher’s voice pulls me out of my conflicted thoughts.
“Just in time to sing the special you prepared for us.” the preacher’s eyes are on me. Is it Will’s father? No, preachers call everyone sons and daughters. Don’t they? What the hell do I know about religion?
Will shoots me an encouraging look and sprints to the pulpit. I laugh inside. What would the paparazzi do for this shot?
Will straps a guitar around his neck, and says, “Thank you, Dan.” His lips curl into a dazzling smile.
“Good morning, everyone, sorry for being late.” He glances at Dan. “I was watching one of God’s most amazing creations.” He winks at me. “The sunrise.” His deep voice resonates. He gets an “Amen” from a lady wearing a hat and sitting in the second row.
Can someone pinch me? Am I being punked?
“Anyway, I had something else prepared for today. But the miraculous beauty I saw this morning made me change my mind.” He strums the guitar’s cords a few times. “So bear with me. Here is ‘What if We’ by Brandon Heath.”
Silence reigns in the room. Will closes his eyes and, his voice deep and husky, breathes on the mike. I thought I had my share of surprises for the day, but apparently, Will has the talent to keep confounding me.
The vibration of his raspy voice rings on my insides. The lyrics are simple, but profound. He strums the cords with familiarity, as if he lives for that very purpose. His voice tears my soul open—exposing the good and the ugly. It renders me speechless.
I’ve said before, tears are stupid. But, against my will and for whatever reason, I am blissfully unaware as tears run freely down my cheek. There is the shot of the year. But, I don’t care.
Will opens his eyes, his voice a low rumble, “Give me the eyes to the ones forgotten.”
It undoes me. I look back into his eyes, and see he is singing to me. There is so much emotion on his face; it is as if he reaches out to me. I want to believe that he feels all the emotions I see on his face, I have never seen someone so willingly display such vulnerability before, and it touches me deeply.
I wipe the tears when the song ends. I don’t want people gawking. Oh well, a church should be judgment-free zone right? That’s what they advertise anyway.
“Thank you,” Will says.
Dan is back on the pulpit. “Thanks, son…” He continues to speak, but his voice fades. Instead, I tune into Will sliding back in his seat and reaching for my hand.
Confused. No, I cannot fetch the words to describe me at this moment. The rest of the reunion, or whatever they call it, passes in a blur. I have so many questions for Will. Is this a bad joke? These people certainly know his marital status. Is it Reality TV? If so, there must be a ton of hidden cameras. Such a bad joke, it has to be reality TV. Damn it, Will, how can you confuse me like this? Only God can clarify what the hell I am doing in a church with a married man. A cult. That’s a feasible explanation.
I feel the warmth from Will’s tight grip and my concerns dissipate.
“Thanks to those of you visiting with us, we truly hope you have had a blessed service and come back soon,” says the preacher pleasantly, with his eyes fixed on me.
I offer my best smile, but it feels superficial. I can do this, I repeat to myself and try to convince myself. Jeez. Meeting the Queen of England was easier than attending church with Will.
Will stands up and grins at me, “Come on, let’s go downstairs where there is food. I am starving.”
I follow him and am relieved when I notice he is dodging people for my benefit. Some people seem to recognize me, but are unsure. We go down a narrow staircase. The heady fragrance of food embraces us. I could almost be hungry.
“I hope Maritza made tacos for breakfast.” He skims his tongue along his lips, doing things to my insides.
“Will, I, uh…” Before I interrogate him, a ten-year-old girl zooms our way and hugs his waist.
“Will! You are here,” she says, her black hair draping over her skinny shoulders as she gaze up at him.
“Hey, Julia, I missed you.” Smiling, he lowers to her level and returns the hug.
“I missed you too.” She grins.
“How did you know it was me?” Will asks bemused.
“I can smell your scent, silly.” She stares in the wrong direction, indicating her blindness. Someone shoot me, please. This is getting better and better.
“Who is with you?” she inquires.
Before Will answers, she frowns and continues. “It’s a woman. She used your shampoo and soap. Did you get married, Will?” There is a hint of disappointment in her voice.
“No, honey, I didn’t. This is Portia. Portia, this is Julia.”
I chuckle a little. But, in all honesty, I am afraid Julia is just going to smell the laughter bubbling inside my chest.
“Why did she shower at your house, then?” How can such a little thing be so perceptive?
“Portia had an accident with her clothes,” he explains.
Oh God, that sounded so wrong. Can I hold that laughter?
“Oh, my little brother had an accident in his pants at the Smiths’ wedding. Mom was so embarrassed.” Her little hand flicks toward me.
“Hi Portia, it is a pleasure to meet you. I am sorry about your accident. It’s OK. Will and I won’t tell anybody else.” I sense from her tone that she is admonishing Will for his indiscretion.
I smile, lower myself to her level, and hold her tiny hand. “Well, thank you for your discretion, Julia.” Her genuine concern for my reputation is almost overwhelming and a place in my heart snaps open. Commit me to that insanity ward, please.
“Gotta go, you know how Mom gets when she can’t find me.” She waves in my direction. “Bye, Portia, your secret is safe with me.” She speeds away, and I worry she will bump into something, but she maneuvers around people and dodges the furniture.
“Wow, was that the best you could come up with?” I smirk.
Will smiles, and his eyes crinkle at the corners. He reaches for my hand again, letting me know that he had missed my touch.
“Sorry.” He smiles and for a moment, I think he is about to kiss me. That’s when the ridiculous bubbles of the la-la land that I have been enclosed in for the last hour pop.
&n
bsp; Before his lips touch mine, he snaps his head to the side and a grin replaces the desire and tenderness I had just seen it.
“Hey, gorgeous,” he says as he drops my hand and turns away from me. His arms wrap around her and his full attention is geared to the most beautiful, angelic face I have ever seen. Obviously, she is his wife.
Anger seizes me and tumbles my soul. I have never experienced so much disappointment and sadness. The feelings I have navigated through life to avoid. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Can I mentally say the F-word on church grounds?
Will hugs her, and then, at arm’s length, he gazes at her pregnant belly.
“Hi, Will.” She smiles.
“Look at you, bigger every time I see you.” I roll my eyes. His hand flattens on her tummy. I almost gag.
“How is the morning sickness?” he continues as if I don’t exist.
“Do you really want to get me started, Will?” She says, her eyes flick toward me and her smile dies.
“Oh, sorry, honey,” he grins. “Let me introduce you to Portia.” He beckons my way. “Portia, this is Melody.”
“Nice to meet you, Melody.”
Jerk. Sick bastard, how can you put me in such a position? What an asshole. Still convinced this is reality TV, I scan the room, for the hidden cameras.
“You can call me, Mel. I am Will’s sister.” She must see the confusion and desperation on my face and adds that tidbit of information to her introduction. Her smile is not friendly, but I don’t care. Did she say sister? I glance at his ring and remember the picture on his cell. Nothing makes sense.
“I am famished. Did Maritza do the tacos?” Will asks.
“When does Mom deny you anything?” His arm is over her shoulders and she leans on him as we stroll to the cafeteria.
I wonder if they serve screwdrivers or even wine. I sure could use one right about now.
My arm drapes over Mel’s shoulders and I glance at Portia. She looks confused, almost angry. With my free hand, I reach for hers. She lets me. Relief travels through my body. That’s a good sign, right? I should have told her that our destination was a church. I know it was a tacky move, but I was afraid that if she knew she would not agree to accompany me. Yes, I ambushed her. Sort of. Something is bothering her. Regret? Oh, well. We will eat and I’ll get her back to the city.