by Brock, V. L.
As I close the distance between our bodies, Samantha tilts her head to maintain eye contact. Standing toe-to-toe, I rest my brow against hers and my eyes dance with excitement.
“My darling, fiancée…” I feel a whiskey-warmth journeying through my body at the endearment. I briefly meld my mouth against hers. Upon pulling away, I produce a flat black box, wrapped with a white bow from behind my back, “Merry Christmas.”
“What, for me?” she presses her hand against her chest and raises her brow. Her smile broadens as I nod. Accepting the proffered box, she flounces to the couch in the middle of the room and lowers herself into the overstuffed cushions. She begins to unravel the satin ribbon.
I take a seat on the edge of the coffee table in front of her, her legs captured between mine.
“Well…I would say it is a joint gift, for both of us.” With my elbows propped on my knees, I knit my fingers together and let them hang between my legs.
She unfolds the white paper, and holds up to inspect the contents.
“Oh, my God, this is beautiful, Hayden,” she gasps, appraising the black lace corset and garter with ivory, floral-lace trimming and crossed ribbon detailing at the back. “Well, honey, I can definitely understand why it would be for both of us. I can’t imagine you in this,” she teases.
Folding the lingerie back into its packaging, she leans forward and kisses me fervently. Her hands fist into my hair, before making their descent and setting them on the sides of my face.
Pulling away, she observes me with passionate, blue eyes.
“Thank you. It means a lot that you endured the embarrassment as a male, in going lingerie shopping…for me. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Pushing ourselves up from our position, we make our way back to the door.
“You can wear it for me tonight,” I proclaim before playfully swatting her on her delectable backside
The sun blazes through the lifting fog as we make our way to Samantha’s apartment along Geary. Her hand rests undisturbed on my dark, navy-clad thigh. Discreetly creeping higher, she caresses the flesh of the peak of my inner-thigh and it takes all my effort to concentrate on not crashing.
I peek up at her promptly when she meets her goal, and she clamps down on her lip again. The flirtation and temptation screening her expression is discernible, only her eyes feign innocence.
I offer a compliant smile, giving consent to remain at her chosen position.
“Are you okay, beautiful?”
“Hmm…mmm,” she nods before adding, “I’m a little nervous though and feel a bit…conflicted.” I quickly turn to face her and gauge her expression, before resuming my eyes on the road. “I feel as though it’s going to be too overwhelming for your mom. Not only is it the first time she’s meeting her son’s girlfriend, but now she has to contend with the advancement of the relationship in such a short period of time.”
She looks out of the window, studying the buildings of San Francisco pass by. “I don’t know…what if she doesn’t like me, Hayden? What if there’s something conflicting between us, and she thinks you can do better than me? God, even I know you could do better than me.”
Stopping at a set of traffic lights, I mirror her gesture and place my hand on her thigh, offering a squeeze of support and encouragement. I hold her gaze.
“Do you honestly think that my mom disliking you would stop me from marrying you? That I would retract my proposal?” her contrite regard causes my heart to billow. She shakes her head inattentive and shrugs her shoulders. “My mom will love you because I love you. But please, Samantha,”––I remove my hand from her thigh and cradle the side of her face. She leans into my touch. “Don’t ever think that someone else’s opinion will ever mar what we have, because nothing will change my mind. I want you, I have you, and I am going to honor you and defend you, for the rest of our days.”
Samantha’s mouth curves into a tightlipped grin and she nods her acquiescence.
The rumbled sounds of car horns beeping impatiently behind us inform me that the lights have changed. Hauling us from our moment, we quickly make our way to Fillmore Point.
Exiting the white and blue LCD lit elevator, I stand and wait while Samantha slips the key into the lock of the fifteenth-floor apartment. She halts as she begins to rotate the shining metal and turns her attention toward me.
“One thing, before we start announcing. You have completely overwhelmed me, Hayden. Everything I have seen and experienced in my life…I gave up on Happy Ever Afters––I had to.” I know some of what she has experienced, yet I find myself idly pondering what she has seen in her past, to give this forgone conclusion. “But here we are. Thank you, for giving me my Happy Ever After.”
Pressing the length of her body flush against me, she covers my mouth with hers and I lose myself as the warmth and skill of her tongue dips and caresses against my own.
“Can I tell you a secret?” I whisper as our lips begin to part.
Samantha pulls away further, her eyes flared and timorous as she sucks in a quick breath and holds it captive. Sensing her heavy reluctance, she nods once.
Tucking her hair behind her left ear, I move forward, my mouth barely an inch away from the curvature of her ear…
NINETEEN
-------------------------
SAMANTHA
“Can I tell you a secret?”
I retreat from the gorgeous man stood in front of me, with his silken hair falling in that floppy way that I love so Goddamn much. I inhale deeply, and his woody, intoxicating, masculine scent greets my nostrils and shrouds my senses with a force so electrifying, that I feel my body vibrate and my knees weaken.
I know what he is going to say. He’s going to ask me how someone so educated could be so stupid and believe that I am ever going to find love. How could someone like him, love someone so emotionally fucked-up and sexually impulsive that they put their own life in danger––several times, in alleyways, club restrooms and parking lots, just to attest their diminishing self-doubt that they are desired, wanted…coveted.
My ribcage throbs as my heart lurches against its confines in a brutal, incessant rhythm. The blood is thrumming through my eardrums, deafening me with a muffled ringing.
Feeling lightheaded as a result of my hyperventilation, I attempt to recover my equilibrium. I nod once, and endeavor to halt my racing breaths in order to stifle my fight or flight responses.
With gentle fingers, Hayden sweeps my hair back, tucking it behind my ear. He leans down towards the exposed hollow of my ear. His breath is warm and exhilarating against my skin.
Prepare yourself, Sam. Nothing is perfect in this world. All good things come to an end.
I hear him lick his lips and the very sound, the suggestion behind it has every muscle and nerve ending south of my hips quickening, tighten and buzzing as he fuels the fire of my libido. Yet, my negative stipulations manage to override my desire.
“This is just the beginning,” he whispers then pulls away, and my unrelenting heart rate begins to slow and return to normal.
Oh, good God. I release my long, halted breath and feel myself sag in reprieve. My pulse must have gone from eighty to one hundred and fifty in a matter of four seconds in sheer panic––who needs access to an amusement park when you have paranoia and apprehension at your beck and call?
Consciously, I know exactly how Hayden feels about me; nonetheless I still permit myself to be overwhelmed by my negative thoughts and feelings.
My subconscious rolls her eyes, clicks her tongue and shakes her head in exasperation, what else can he possibly do to show you––to prove to you that he isn’t going to hurt and humiliate you? He asked you to marry him for God sake, and you are still not fully ‘there’ with no reservation.
Eyes muted, I manage a brief smile. Hayden frowns and with palpable sadness he flails his head. His gorgeous chocolate curl on his brow shifts slightly with his movement.
“Oh, Samantha,” he whispers, his
voice smooth and golden like melted toffee and strokes the back of his knuckles down my cheek. “You still worry and panic. Even after I ask you––”
“Well, it looks like we have the same problem in common,” I interject, sounding a little more stern than intended.
Slipping his hand down my jawline, he rounds my head and grasps the back of my neck, his left hand fixed against the small of my back. He draws our bodies together, in an act to sustain the connection that both of us need and crave––the connection that assures and soothes us in our temporary moments of dread, fear and anxiousness.
Taking control he promptly melds our lips together, and the pessimism I was near enough defeated by only a moment ago diminishes, and is replaced with actuality and grave sincerity as the softness of his full, pleasing lips, and the addictive, perfectly applied pressure behind a kiss that supports and bolsters, sets my mind at rest.
This is a necessity for us, if we are to ever get passed our fears…this is what we need, to expel the angst and despicable thoughts that we have been moulded to believe. I need this to feel desired, he needs it confirm that I am only his.
How can good situations, lead you down an anxious and paranoid path in a blink of an eye?
I hear a click from my apartment door before being hastily swung open. It startles me and I shriek loudly as I quickly pull away from my gorgeous, mouthwatering, heavenly scented, Hayden. I grasp at my chest as though having my hand placed over my heart will prevent it from lurching from its cavity.
“Oh, my God, Jessie––you scared the fucking shit out of me,” I gasp through gritted teeth, while endeavoring to breathe.
Hayden rubs his hand rhythmically up and down the length of my spine in a vain attempt to appease me.
The lively, satisfied brunet slaps her hand on her thigh and squeals with laughter. With her hair piled high into a ponytail, the odd tresses framing her pale oval face and her bright emerald eyes silently conveying her sated and overindulged night of passion––for once––she actually looks her age…she actually looks relaxed and happy. And I can’t think of anyone more deserving.
“Merry Christmas, sweetie,” she beams, dragging me into the apartment, and encircles her arms around me as though she hasn’t seen me in weeks.
“Merry Christmas, Jess,” I strain my greeting, despite the fact that she is wringing all breath from my lungs in her vice-like embrace. I feel a nuance of liberation as she loosens her death grip.
Jessie may not be big, but damn has she got some killer strength behind her small frame.
She welcomes Hayden in the same fashion, and repeats her torture-like encirclement. As she relinquishes him, I notice his eyes and posture visibly relax.
“Jeez, Jess. I think you had better lay off the spinach,” he teases, and she frivolously swats his upper arm, while I snigger inwardly at the warmth and openness of my lover and best friend.
“Happy Holiday’s, all…” A voice from the entrance of the hallway that hold Jessie’s bedroom startles me. God, I am so jumpy today. I whip my head around like a prima ballerina to find the source of the deep, cheerful voice.
Jessie side-steps Hayden and with a Cheshire cat grin, she sashay’s passed the dining-table, to the tall muscular form in her doorway. He’s wearing dark, slouchy, denim pants and a tight, black, tank top, displaying his burly biceps. His hair is dark, mousy-blond and spiked. I am instantly drawn to his eyes…Jessie was right, he does have incredible, sapphire irises…nothing compared to Hayden, but they’re still intense yet friendly, and a smattering of stubble enhances his strong, squared-jawline.
Taking his hand in hers, she leads him out of the doorway and into the squared-arch that divides the living and dining areas. Hayden impulsively wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me clearly into his side. I sense his possessive intention, and it rouses something deep within knowing that he is claiming me as his woman in front of another man. I can’t suppress my smile of triumph.
“Sammy, Hayden, this is Matt. Matt, this is my roommate, Sammy, and her boyfriend, Hayden.”
The level of protectiveness that Hayden exudes warms me internally, not only the fortification he offers me, but the protection and wellbeing I sense that he has for Jessie as he whips question after question at poor Matt. I suppose that’s what happens when you date a lawyer…sorry, are engaged to a lawyer.
I feel a brief throbbing in my panties and sink my teeth into my lip as I contemplate the demeanor he must project in the courtroom.
Oh, my…
As Hayden and I take up the only two breakfast bar stools, Jessie and Matt find themselves leaning against the countertops while occupying the kitchen. With a powerful hand perched on my left thigh, I pull my attention away from my steaming coffee mug, and peek up into his dark, scorching eyes. His gaze flits down to my left hand, which is shielding his on my leg. He raises his brow.
I nod with a clear understanding of his silent question and Hayden follows by ‘accidentally’ spilling a little of the contents in his cup onto the counter.
“Hang on, I’ll get it.” Jessie turns to gather some paper towels on the furthest countertop.
Taking advantage of the moment, I wrap both of my hands around the steaming mug and take a generous sip. The bright light that streams through the room catches the diamond, expelling a rainbow of colors against the kitchen wall. Spotting the lightshow, Jessie stills and stares intently like a cat preparing to chase the spotlight from a torch as I slowly wriggle my finger.
“Ahem…” I clear my throat in a feeble attempt to capture her attention.
Matt’s already fixated on the rock adorning my finger, his arms folded across his chest. Hayden presses his finger to his mouth, urging the man to remain silent. He is recompensed with a conceded nod, his full, pouty-lips curling slowly in wry hilarity.
As Jessie spins around to face us, she freezes.
Finally, my subconscious slumps back into her office chair and tips her head back against the rest.
Mouth agape, her eyes flare upon acknowledging the band, and then spontaneously dart towards mine. Jessie is actually speechless…that’s a first.
Dashing my tongue across my lower lip, I can no longer stifle my face-splitting grin.
“You’re…I mean, he…” she points at my ring finger, and then to Hayden as she attempts to string her sentence together.
Regaled, Hayden and I both offer a quick glance at each other, and quietly giggle at the gibbering-wreck, that is my best friend before peering back up at the woman who I think of as my sister, who I love dearly, and answer her with a simple nod of my head.
Before I know what has hit us, she shrieks, claps her hands repeatedly and bounces from foot-to-foot like a child on a sugar rush after eating too much cotton candy––sharing the same reaction my subconscious reveled in last night…that is, after she regained consciousness.
Bounding from her position, Matt swiftly moves aside to avoid being football tackled by his girlfriend, while Jess scurries around the kitchen curve to our side of the breakfast hatch.
Bypassing Hayden, she bounds me in a celebratory hug, and then offers Hayden the same level of affection.
“Congratulations,” she shrieks once again as she stands between us, her arms slung around both of our shoulder and places a quick, friendly kiss on each of our temples. “I am so happy for you both,” she sniffles and a tear rolls down her cheek.
“You okay, babe?” the husky voice from the opposite side of the bar echoes.
Nodding feverishly, she mutters, “Oh, yes,”––she draws an invisible line from one green eye to the other––“happy tears.”
Chortling at the exuberance, love and holiday cheer that surround us, I am suddenly aware of the wall of change before me…the change of events that not only stand for Hayden and I, and our engagement…but also for Jessie and the man who leans against my kitchen counter…maybe he is her future.
“I need all the details,” she beams.
I flash a conspiratori
al look in her direction, before glancing at Matt, and then back at my best friend. “And so do I.”
HAYDEN
“Okay then, Mom…yes, there is no need to worry, I promise we will make it there on time…Okay, we will see you soon.” I abruptly press the little red button on the handset, fully aware that given half the chance my loving mother would keep me on the damn thing all day.
I sit on the red, leather couch, my elbows propped on my knees as I toy with my rock-climbing for two, gift certificate that Samantha gifted me. The uninvited memories of the events that transpired on our one-month anniversary invade my mind; we were to go together that very day. Having canceled, Samantha conceived her own assumptions when she read a text message reminding me to meet with Cassandra––my mother’s housekeeper and loyal friend––at the cemetery. Obviously the reason for the arranged meeting wasn’t stipulated on the message, but Samantha was convinced that I was unfaithful, and that led to a chain reaction of events which have been nothing but a hindrance for us since.
I cannot dispute the likelihood that I would have come to the same conclusion, had it been vice-versa.
I stand swiftly when Samantha appears from the small corridor. Her hair a glossy, straight waterfall, cascading over her breasts, and accentuates her oval face, high prominent cheekbones, and expressive, pale blue eyes. Her makeup is as natural as I have ever seen her wear before. And the black crepe, jersey bell-sleeved dress, which sits above her knee, showcases her long, shapely legs in her peep-toe, skyscraper heels.
I saunter across the room, closing the space between us. “You look amazing, Samantha.”
“Are you sure? My legs don’t look, too––”
“No,” I interject shaking my head as I recognize the question which is only moments away from being asked. “Your legs do not look fat, or bulky, or short, or blemished. You look nothing less than perfect, beautiful, as always.” I hold her gaze, my knuckles gliding down her cheek, before seizing her chin and placing a kiss on her glossy lips.