He exhaled a little laugh, and I only paused a moment to notice how fast I was breathing. Then we were in each other’s arms. At first we only held each other, inhaling deeply. His scent never changed, and I felt his lips press against the top of my head as he breathed against my hair. We didn’t speak. We only savored the warmth of our bodies pressed together, shoulder to shoulder, his arms over mine, my arms around his waist. My cheek lay against the warm skin of his neck, and our hearts beat together so fast.
The intensity rose until he moved his hands to my face, lifting my chin so he could cover my lips with his. They parted at once, and a little noise ached from my throat. I didn’t remember how I got inside. All I knew was we were there, in front of the couch, stumbling to his room, his hands sliding from my face, cupping my neck, to my shoulders and then to my waist.
Each movement was punctuated by another long kiss. Shirts off, mouths together; shoes kicked away, mouths reunited. Our arms collided as our hands reached desperately for one another whenever we were separated for even a moment.
Energy raced under my skin, and it didn’t take long before we were on the bed, first him above me, then me rolling him onto his back. It was like being without food or possibly even water for days and days, and when it’s finally restored, you can’t decide if you want to drink it or swim in it. Or both.
We were in heaven. Julian’s warm mouth trailed from my cheek to my jaw, making his way down to my neck. I couldn’t stop touching, feeling, remembering every part of his body with my hands until at last we—
Hello, there. Yes, it’s me Jules cutting in here.
I know, you’re like, “WHAT!?” I’m sure a lot of you romance-junkies are dying to indulge in what comes next right here, and trust me, Mum spared no detail—jeez, give a girl a break. For someone who claims not to be a poet, she practically breaks into song over Dad’s… special gifts.
But honestly. Nobody wants to read about their parents getting it on. Yes, I know that’s how I got here, but it wasn’t on this particular occasion. Even if it was, that doesn’t make it any more appealing to me to read.
So we’re just going to skip to the afterglow, and you can fill in the blanks using your imagination…
… Julian’s soft lips touched my eyelid, and the scruff of his chin touched the tip of my nose. With every heartbeat, a sparkling pulse moved through my insides.
“Best surprise ever.” His voice was warm, and I laughed because it was all I wanted to do.
I was secure in his arms, his face hovering just above mine, arms on either side of my shoulders. “I’m trying to remember when I was ever this happy.” My whole body was buzzing with satisfaction, joy, contentment.
He leaned down and kissed me again. “I hope every time you’re this happy, you’re with me.”
Reaching up, I traced my finger down his cheek, ran my thumb across his bottom lip. “I never dreamed I’d be with you this way. Then it happened, and it’s the most amazing thing. Now I feel like I’m on the edge, like I might lose it all.”
“Why would you say that?” He rolled to the side and rested his head on his hand. His other hand moved to my stomach. “I mean, yeah, it’s tough being apart. All that works is just, you know, burying myself in schoolwork until we’re together again. But nothing’s slipping away.”
I rolled into him, pressing my cheek against his warm skin. “Everything we’re doing is sending us in opposite directions. How will we ever get us back together?”
The hand under his head went around my shoulders, pulling me tight against his chest. “We’ll get there. I keep telling you this isn’t forever.”
It was so late, and I’d been running on adrenaline so long, I couldn’t help the tears threatening. My voice was a cracked whisper. “It feels like forever.”
He kissed me, and I held him, closer than it should’ve been possible. We moved together again, but this time it was different. It was bonding somehow, or maybe that was how I wanted it to be. We fell asleep in the early morning hours, wrapped in each other’s arms.
* * *
Julian was still asleep when I opened my eyes again. Dawn was streaming in too brightly through his windows, and I sat up and looked around his bedroom. I hadn’t even noticed the space last night. The only thing I’d cared about then was Julian and touching him, being with him.
This morning all of that was different. It was my first visit to Savannah, and I wanted to see his room. I carefully slipped out of the bed, pausing to look back at him, asleep on his stomach. His olive skin and dark hair contrasted sharply with the white sheets, and the sunlight threw shadows across the lines in his back. Resting my cheek on my bent knee, I resisted the urge to trace my finger down one of those lines. Instead, I took a breath and swiped his tee off the floor. It was big enough to hang on me like a short dress as I walked around the large area.
On his desk were several different sketches, what looked like elevations. I wasn’t sure if they were for the big project he’d been working on or if they were regular class work. My bare feet softly padded on the floor as I skipped over to a set of canvasses leaning against the wall. This was what I wanted to see.
Dropping to sit on my feet, I lifted the first one back. It was a brilliant painting with vibrant, sharply contrasting colors. At the bottom was dark blue, the water of the bay with a bridge stretching across it—black in the sunset. And what a sunset! It was deep orange with clouds in sweeping strokes of neon-yellow and white. For a few seconds, all I could do was gaze at it. Julian was a master of taking my breath away.
Sliding that canvass to the side, I tilted back the next one. It was a colorful chaos of flowers, storefronts, and his metal sculpture of the students lined up reading. I recognized it from the sculpture park in Newhope. Looking around the room, I wondered if he did these from memory or if he had photographs stashed somewhere. Perhaps on his phone…
The last one wasn’t finished, but I knew what it was immediately. In broad stokes of green, lighter green, white and dark green-almost black, what appeared to be waves surrounded the form of a girl. A young woman.
Her head was down, one pale, slender arm bent, holding her hair at the base of her neck in a tight bun. It was light brown hair with glints of gold, and spiral tendrils fell along the side of her face, turned just enough away to be unrecognizable. Only I recognized her. She was nude, but the green strokes obscured her private parts.
The woman was me, painted in such an obviously loving manner, my gaze was captivated looking at it. I didn’t move as I felt warmth behind me. Julian dropped to sit at my back on the floor, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my shoulder.
“You’re snooping.” I heard the smile in his voice, and I hugged my arm over his at my waist. “What do you think?”
My voice was a breathless whisper. “I think being an architect is doing wonders for your art.”
He did a little laugh before pressing his lips against the top of my shoulder, right in the crease where my neck came down. It caused a little shiver to run down my legs, and I turned my head to find his lips.
One breathless kiss later, my eyes rose to meet his. “These are gorgeous.”
Those blue eyes creased in a grateful smile. “I’m not sure I can trust you,” he teased. “You love everything I do.”
Shaking my head, I rotated so I was facing him. “No. These are truly amazing. Your art is really evolving into something… it’s like your mom’s style, but it’s very different. It’s your own.”
His eyes traveled down to my lips then over to my jaw and up, around my hair before coming to rest again on mine. “I tried to remember you in feelings as well as images.”
My hands held his waist as I listened. “What does that mean?”
“I’m not sure.” We both laughed then, and he continued. “I mean, I have pictures of us on my phone and pictures I’ve taken when you weren’t looking…”
“Let me see them!”
“Hang on…” He caugh
t my hands and wrapped them back around his waist. “But I wouldn’t look at just one, I tried looking at all of them and letting it mix in my head into this… feeling of you.”
Leaning forward, I pressed my heated eyes against the bare skin of his chest.
His voice turned loud. “Do I sound like a pompous asshole?”
“No!” I sat back quickly to catch his gaze, but by doing that, he saw the pools in my eyes. Blinking, a tear hit my cheek.
In a movement, I was pressed close to him again. “I’m sorry. Why are you crying?”
“It’s so beautiful.” Then I laughed. “Now I’m really not going to London.”
He sat back and caught my cheeks again in both hands. “Yes, you are.” He kissed me quickly, then stood, pulling me up with him. “Come on. I want to show you Tybee Island. It’s amazing.”
“Oh, yes!” I remembered the impression it made on his mother, and I was eager to see it. “It’s on the migratory path for Monarch butterflies!”
“I know! That was just happening… we might still see a few out there.”
Holding hands we started back toward the bed, him in his boxers and me in only his long-sleeved tee. That’s when I caught the look in his eye, and a little charge sizzled straight to my core.
“I bet it’ll all still be there in an hour.” His voice was a husky whisper right at my ear, and there was no way I was arguing.
His mouth covered mine, pushing my lips apart, and it was all I could do not to melt on the spot.
* * *
Tybee Island was exactly the way his mother had described it—at least this morning. A lighthouse was on one end, and with the tide out, it seemed to be long stretches of dark brown sand. Once the tide changed, however, Julian said the ocean came racing back, and it was as close as the Gulf off Crystal Shores. And sure enough, several straggler Monarch butterflies were making their way south for the winter. It was amazing. We sat on the sand, and I leaned back in his arms.
“Do you come out here a lot?” I asked, threading our fingers, trying not to think how impossible it was going to be to leave him tomorrow morning.
“Not as much as I’d like.” He kissed the side of my neck. “But it’s not the same as being home. You’re not here.”
We were quiet a moment, and I thought about what Gabi had said about home. Sitting here in Julian’s arms, I knew home for me would be wherever he was. I stretched out our hands and imagined us growing old together, lines on our hands, lines on our faces. Gray strands sprinkled in his dark locks.
“What are you thinking about?” He was still holding my back against his chest, the wind pushing our hair back.
“Family.”
“The holidays are getting close.”
Nodding I shifted around so our laced fingers were in our lap and I could see his face. “Not to kill the mood…”
“Hmm.” I could tell he knew what was coming.
“Have you talked to your mom?” Blinking up to his blue eyes, I saw frustration there, but not directed at me.
“No.” His answer was short, and for a moment, I thought that was all I’d get. Then he continued. “I talk to my dad a lot, and I know he fills her in. He’s real excited about me working with him over semester break.”
Chewing my lip, I went on and said it. “You need to talk to your mom.”
He exhaled and deflected. “When are you planning to get home for Thanksgiving?”
“I can take off after my last class Tuesday,” I said, slanting my eyes up at him.
“Excellent.” He caught my waist and pulled me closer. “I’ll be there ASAP on Wednesday, and we’ll be together the rest of the week.”
“What’s the plan for Thanksgiving day?”
“Will your parents mind if I tag along at your house?”
The very suggestion made me laugh. “Of course not. You know they love you.”
“And you’ll have dinner with me on Friday?”
“Sure! Where do you want to go?” Planning our next visit so close in the future helped me be less panicked about saying goodbye to him tomorrow.
“The Kyser mansion?”
Until he said that. “What?”
“Dad said he’d like to do something special—and you’ll get your wish, because I’m sure Mom will be there. I’ll have to talk to her.”
“If that’s the case, then definitely.”
He laughed and covered my mouth with his. I was content to go on kissing him for the next twenty-four hours, and besides the two times we met up with Brad and Rachel, that was pretty much all we did… in addition to other things.
Anna’s Private Blog: Post-Thanksgiving Kyser-Apocalypse
Okay, so wow. If the world ever does end in a dramatic explosion, it’s very possible it will look something like what I witnessed Friday night.
I know I have to back up and fill in the blanks again, and I will, don’t worry. I’m just getting a chance to sit down and think about how it all went down for myself.
After my weekend in heaven with Julian (shivers), we headed back to finish the short weeks leading up to Thanksgiving holiday. It’s pretty much the end of classes, as we’ll have dead week and finals when we get back and then we’re done. Done.
It’s hard to believe my first semester of college is behind me! So much has happened, and so much is uncertain. I filled out the application for JYA before my trip to Savannah, but the selection process continues into the spring. We won’t know who was selected until at least March. In the meantime, I have to try and exist with that hanging over my head.
For distraction (and because I had no other choice), I threw myself into my studies. American lit was an essay on what Tennessee Williams’ depiction of Blanche and Stanley’s lives say about desire. I’ve already gone into what I think the whole play says about my desire… Still, I loved the assignment. Exploring literary themes and concepts is one of my favorite things. It was a fun paper to write.
In my journalism classes, we’ve started a video project that runs across both semesters. We have to have the planning half finished by Christmas break, and it will culminate in a fifteen-minute news story, complete with tags, interviews, and location shots due at the end of spring semester. It’s a group project, so two of my classmates and I chose the history of Algiers Point.
We’re including John McDonogh, one of the world’s largest landowners until he died in the mid-1800s. He owned most of Algiers. From him, we’ll move to the oil boom and bust and the impact it had on development, along with the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. The only thing more fascinating to me than the fictional characters in my English classes are the nonfictional ones I meet and interview on the streets. Their stories are sometimes even better than fiction.
Julian’s right. Gabi’s right. They’re all right, and it breaks my heart. Journalism is my passion, and it keeps pulling me further away from the person I love. Julian says I can’t get hung up on that right now. He keeps saying we’ll get through this, and I’m doing everything I can to trust him and see the amazing in all of it.
Rachel’s prelaw classes wrapped up around the same time as mine, and we were both packed and making the two-hour drive home by Tuesday afternoon.
“Brad’s sticking around Tulane?” I leaned back against the seat to let the unusually cool, crisp air filter in through the window. It sent my light-brown spirals jumping around my neck.
For the briefest of seconds, my thoughts drifted to Jack. I hadn’t seen him since that night in Fat Harry’s, and I wondered if he’d stay in the city or be at the Friday dinner Julian mentioned. Shaking my head, I figured it would be just Julian and me, possibly Julian’s mother and Mr. Kyser.
“He had a project due tomorrow for one of his engineering classes, but he’ll be home for Thursday.” Rachel’s straight blonde hair blew around her neck as well, and I resisted being envious of how polished she still appeared.
“Still excited about him relaunching his dad’s business?”
Her eyebrows sh
ot up. “Definitely! It makes total sense. The name-recognition alone is worth millions. I mean, Mr. Bryant never said why they all just shut down and let it go, but it’s a total waste of potential.”
I nodded and returned to looking out the window. I knew exactly why they all shut down and let it go. Mr. Kyser and Ms. LaSalle had an affair; they had Julian and kept his paternity a secret from everybody until Meg Kyser figured it out—the same night she caught Bill and Lexy embracing and kissing in Lexy’s office at the Kyser-Brennan Christmas party. The same night she died in a car crash.
Will, Jack, and Lucy weren’t the only ones to lose a parent that night. Julian lost his dad when Bill and Lexy parted ways for more than fifteen years. Kyser-Brennan was set adrift, shuffled aside in the aftermath.
But I couldn’t tell anybody that story. Instead, I studied the expanse of blue-brown water racing past us beneath the bridge. We were more than half-way across Lake Ponchartrain, the giant brackish lake separating New Orleans from the rest of eastern Louisiana, on our way to Interstate 10. From there, it was a straight shot east all the way to South County.
“It is the most logical decision,” I said, shifting my mental focus. “They’re all heirs to this amazing thing their dads accomplished.”
“Well, he and Jack are at least.”
My bottom lip pulled between my teeth quickly. “Right.”
“Speaking of the guys, when’s Julian headed back in town?” She slanted her eyes at me with a grin, and for some silly reason I blushed.
Mosaic (Dragonfly #4) Page 7