by Mj Fields
“I truly hope that you’re here for a very long time. I truly hope you and she can make each other as happy as her father and I are.”
I clear my throat and whisper, “Thanks.”
“Have dinner with us tonight?”
“Wouldn’t want to imp—”
“From experience, I’m telling you, the easiest way to deal with this family is to jump in with both feet and enjoy the ride.”
Chapter Twenty Seven
Tobias
A week ago, I held her tight, knowing I was letting her go. I had to. No way I could hold back who I was and love on a girl whose fucking name was Truth while drowning in lies. It wasn’t an option, so I did the right thing.
Who would have thought the son of a druggy and an ex-stripper would have a kid who did the right thing?
I laugh to myself at the thought.
But the answer makes my heart smile and ache at the same time. It’s the fact that I know at the core who I am—a survivor, a weary dreamer of a better future. It was instilled in me by a woman whose name was and always will be Hope.
I’m no longer counting the months until I’m out of here, because as much bullshit as I’ve dealt with in my life, I no longer want to run as far away from it so I can start over. My original plan was to go to college on the other side of the country, leaving the East Coast and heading to the West Coast. UCLA was the dream, but my guidance counselor pushed me to apply to more schools, so I did. I was accepted to UCLA, but Columbia offered me a full ride. I knew I had to take that gift from the Universe, or God, or Mom … with wings, so I did so begrudgingly, knowing I’d only be an hour and a half from the place I had dreamed about leaving. Fully equipped with a lifelong ability to not form attachments, I knew I could leave here and never look back. My plan was always to sell the house.
Now I am happy I was too damn busy surviving to clean out the garage and didn’t put it on the market yet. I can still rent out my place, but not for parties anymore, and have that extra cash flow to take Truth on proper dates and shit.
I smile as I brush my teeth at the memory of Mom burning the midnight oil, sometimes literally, because food was more important than the light bill as she worked her ass off at mediocre jobs to get her degree. Her one goal was to finally take me on a vacation of my choice, and my choice was the beach.
We would lay in my bed at night, dreaming out loud about all the beaches we would travel to when she had saved enough money. Then she got a real job, and that, on top of her Reserves requirements, left little time to actually do that. But it gave us a new dream. One week a year, just her and me on a beach, building sandcastles and flying kites, like all the kids did around here.
Frank was the one who had told her about the little place that eventually became our home, and I remember her asking if I would rather go to California to see the ocean or have a house where we could wake up every day, open the door, and have it just a few feet away.
Being a kid, of course I was bummed we weren’t going to fly across the country on a plane and see a different ocean, but the excitement grew at the overheard conversations that she would share with Frank about having a place, roots, for her and her Toby.
Every morning, I ate my cereal on the front porch, looking at the water, sometimes with Mom, sometimes by myself. But every weekend, we built a sandcastle and flew kites, even if it was only for an hour. Those are my favorite memories with her.
She would have loved Truth and her family as much as I do, and although I still need my space, I’m realizing every day that I need it less than I’ve let myself believe.
My first introduction to her family, as a whole, after the big reveal, after the surprise counseling session, was dinner and a “dance party,” which I learned was them all just making homemade pizza to go with the wings that Cyrus brought home while dancing around. Truth held back. I knew this because her father picked on her about it.
I was invited every night, but I forced myself to only accept every other and avoided “Steel Sunday” like the plague.
But every night, no matter if I was there or not, Truth and I talked about everything under the sun until one of us fell asleep. I knew everything about her family, and the fact they didn’t always have money, even though they could have if Momma Joe, her grandmother, hadn’t walked away from her family’s fortune, for love.
She was half asleep when she whispered, ‘I’m so glad I didn’t have to do that.’
The implication of what she’d murmured, blew my mind.
She knew my shit, too. Even my record for assault and battery that was sealed by the courts and covered up by the school, because Frank had shit on the principal whose kid I lost it on. And the possession charge when I was trying to make bank to get out from under Frank’s thumb. She knows that Miles, Harrison, and Kai know about it, too, and have been holding it and threatening to hand it over to Columbia’s administration if I didn’t keep the fight circuit going.
I also told her about something they suspect I have, something of an urban legend amongst the elite, something coveted by them all. She guessed control over The Sound app, and although I do hold the figurative power button, so to speak, that’s not it in its entirety. She busted my ass about not killing the stories of her and her cousin, and I flat-out told her that it was a dick move, but if I couldn’t have her, I was going to make sure no one else did. But that wasn’t all the “Four Horsemen,” as she calls us, are whispered to have control over, and I told her that, when the time came, I would tell her what it was that I have, but not until I figure out what I’m going to do with it. She was chill about it, which made me realize she really did fucking trust me.
What I hold supersedes The Sound. What I have is documentation over hundreds of years that could break any student, their families, or the faculty of Seashore. I have access to all their secrets.
My plan is, and was, to destroy it after graduation, but Harrison, who truly believes it will be his—spoiler alert: it never will be—has used it against me that I am responsible to those who work the circuit so damn much lately that now I’m not sure I’ll destroy it at all. Add to that, Truth and her crew may need it, and this kind of seals the deal, that I just need to find the right hands to place that kind of information in.
Other than Harrison and his crew looming in the corners, school’s the same as it was that first day, but whispers about her and me keep flying around the halls. I managed to keep us off The Sound, but I don’t plan on doing so for much longer.
We are entering the fourth grade relationship phase, which is now a running joke but also gives me some peace of mind knowing I’ll be doing right by her by easing into this. And, truth be told, I want her to fall head up her amazing ass in love with me, so much so that all she sees is me when she blinks or closes her eyes, like I do her since the first time saw her at Frank’s. I want her so blinded by me that she laughs in the faces of fuckers at Seashore who are smiling in my face but frothing at the mouth while they wait to replace me and take my girl when I’m gone.
Tonight, she and I are going on our first date, which I’m pretty damn sure will end up in the hottest sexual experience … without actual sex.
I lost my virginity in sixth grade. Surely I can hold out for another two weeks, right?
She’s wearing black ballet-like shoes and dressed in a red skater dress when she comes out of her house, like the black one she wore the night she rode my lap in the dark. Her hair is all loose curls and not tied up on her head like it is at school most of the time.
As she walks toward me, smiling, because she knows she looks amazing, my entire body begins to slowly burn. As amazing as that dress is on her, the confidence she carries makes her so fucking sexy.
Take it back a step, I remind myself.
I reach back in the truck and pull out the flowers that will now be the kind she gets from me forever and walk toward her, seeing the door open behind her as Cyrus then Tara step out onto the wraparound porch.
She stops
and grins as I hold them out to her and she takes them.
She puts them under her nose and inhales. “Thank you. They smell beautiful.” She looks down at them, and I watch her expression change as she crinkles up her nose and smiles.
“You like them?” I ask.
“I’ve never seen anything like these.”
“Wasn’t about to give you roses, for obvious reasons, and then I decided a once in a lifetime girl deserves a signature flower. Took a couple days—nothing screamed Truth to me—and then I saw these.”
“Once in a lifetime girl, huh?” She does that crinkled-up nose smile that blows any fucking duck lips, or pouty-faced, or open mouth smile on her IG page out of the fucking water.
“Amuse me. Tell me why I picked these?”
She shakes her head, her cheeks turning pink.
“I’ll give you a hint.”
She grins and nods.
I take her hand, hold it up, and spin her in a circle once, twice, and then three times.
When she’s finally facing me, she smiles. “They look like tiny dancers.”
“Their botanical name is impatiens bequaertii, more commonly known as Dancing Girls, and they are now unofficially going to be referred to as Dancing Truths.”
“I love them.” She smiles, once again lifting them to her nose but not smelling them. She rubs her lips back and forth against them with her eyes closed.
When she finally looks up, she smiles brighter. “I think I love fourth grade the best.”
“Perfect. Think you’re going to love the summer before your senior year.” I wink and watch her smile wobble into an almost frown. I can’t help but laugh as I lean in and kiss the top of her head. “Should have gone with regular red impatiens.”
She laughs as she pushes me away, but she does it gripping my button down.
“Should we go?”
She looks back at her parents and holds the flowers up.
Cyrus kind of glowers at me. Tara holds her hands to her heart and hip-checks him.
“You wanna leave the flowers here?” I ask.
“They should be in water, but also”—she rubs her lips across them again—“I kind of don’t wanna give them up just yet.”
I take them from her, snap one of the flowers off, and put it in her hair. “Problem solved.”
She smiles as she turns then hurries to her parents, while I walk over and open the passenger door. Tara smiles, and I can’t help thinking about her words and wanting to continue making her proud.
Planning a date is taxing, especially when you’re trying to impress someone who has everything. Even the weather was important, and thankfully, it cooperated.
Sitting on an outside deck at a small, family-owned Italian restaurant, not an Olive Garden, our knees rub against each other’s under the table and our pinkies are linked across the table where we watch the sunset as we wait for the dessert that Truth chose, Tiramisu, that she swears I’m going to love.
Unlinking our pinkies, she stands, leans across the table, and then kisses me on the cheek, promising she’ll be back before the sun sets so we can watch it together.
As soon as she’s inside, I nod to the waiter, who happens to be the owner’s son that I spoke to on the phone to make sure they could accommodate the night I had planned in my head, a night a girl like Truth deserved..
When she walks out, she looks around, eyes widening right along with her smile, as hundreds of tiny white lights seemingly dance over us on the trees that sway in the evening breeze.
I reach out my hand for her to take and pull her into me, and then we dance to a song that my mom used to play on repeat when I was little, “Tiny Dancer.” With my hands on her hips and hers linked behind my neck, we gently sway to the music.
Looking down into her green eyes, I want to kiss her now, but I’m forcing myself to take it slow for a different reason than before—anticipation.
I lean in and brush my lips against her forehead, my heart beating faster as our bodies meld together, our rhythm syncing immediately. We dance like we’ve done it a million times before.
When the song ends, we continue to sway, and from over her shoulder, I watch as our waiter brings out the Tiramisu, as planned. When he looks up, he does an about-face and heads right back in, improvising when the plan changed, and doing a damn good job of it.
I look down at her, leaning in until our faces nearly touch. Her lips part, and I smell the raspberry scent of the tea we just drank. I brush my lips against hers, as if I’ve done a hundred times before and take in the softness of her skin, like flower petals against mine.
Chapter Twenty Eight
Idiom
With A Burning Desire.
Truth
Okay, I totally get this one… now.
As soon as he held my face between his hands, I knew this was it, the moment that Tobias Easton finally kisses me the way I have dreamt about him kissing me for what feels like forever.
I wasn’t turned on immediately; I was fucking terrified that I would screw it up somehow. And let’s be honest, even though I’ve danced for years, being around him seems to induce vertigo.
When he opened his mouth, and I felt him tracing my lips with his tongue, it was as if he was erasing my unease, and I began to melt.
When he pushed it inside of my mouth, the manly smell of him mixed with his own knee-weakening tasted dipped in raspberry caused the butterflies to swarm at a newfound fury.
Rubbing my tongue against his, I was rewarded with a low groan that caused my nipples to tighten and my hands to grip his shoulders just so I could pull him closer.
What started as a slow, mutual exploration, the start of us getting to know each other’s mouths, slowly morphs into two people, expressing without words, their desires for one another.
All concerns that I am more desperate for this than he is are gone when he grips my hips, kneading them, and then holding them as if he may push me away when I feel his erection press against me.
He starts to pull his mouth from mine, and I push my tongue against his with an urgent need to keep part of him inside of me.
The feelings … sharing ourselves, give, take, need, and want, all dance euphorically inside of us.
He deepens the kiss, removing one of his hands from my hip to grip the back of my head, moving it to accommodate his need to devour me. When he slows and pulls his tongue from mine, he sucks on my lower lip and lets it fall from his mouth as he presses his forehead against mine.
I close my eyes in an attempt to steady my heart and catch my breath as he does the same. When I open them, he lets out a hot burst of air that sounds almost angry as he opens his eyes.
All I can manage to say is, “Wow.”
“Yeah,” he huffs. “Definitely.”
Behind us, a throat clears, and Tobias looks over my head.
“Are you ready for dessert now?”
I look behind us. “We’ll take it to go.”
When I look back at him, he smiles. “Good call.”
Tobias needed “a minute” before we turned on a movie.
So did I, but not with distance like he needs. No, I need a minute times a thousand more of him kissing me.
I have no idea what movie we decided on, because I couldn’t stop looking at his lips. And when I wasn’t looking at those, I was looking at the outline running down his left pants leg.
“Truth, you gotta cool it,” he said, as if pained.
When I didn’t look away, he tried to adjust himself.
I laughed, and he gave me one of those intimidating looks that doesn’t make me any less tingly.
“Truth, you—”
“I’m gonna look at you. You can’t tell me I can’t.”
“I love that you wanna look at me, but looking at my dick isn’t helping shit settle down.”
“You’re definitely a grower,” I whispered as I forced myself to look away.
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” He laughed.
“Nope.”
“Truth, you are something else, you know.”
“It wasn’t an insult at all, so why are you”—I laughed; knowing what I know, I couldn’t stop what came out of my mouth next—“getting all bent out of shape?”
“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” He laughed genuinely.
“And you’re the best kisser in the world.”
“Yeah?”
“Definitely better than—”
“Shut it down,” he warned.
Thinking about the kiss makes me burn, and after the closet incident, I know what eases the burn—him.
When he walks out of his bathroom and sees me sitting on his bed, Tiramisu container open on my lap, I hold up the fork. “Dessert?”
His jaw tightens, but he nods. “How about we take that to the couch?”
I stick the fork in the Tiramisu then shove a big bite into my mouth. Then I stick the fork into the dessert again and hold it up to him.
He nods and walks over, sits on the bed, and opens his mouth. “Fucking delicious,” he moans when the piece hits his tongue.
I take another forkful then make quick work of getting on his lap.
“Truth, we need—”
“What I need is to take the edge off.” I push him back onto the bed.
“You know what you’re doing?” he asks through clenched teeth.
“What feels right,” I answer, pushing his shirt up and dropping the forkful on his abs.
“Baby …” he hisses.
“Not breaking any rules, Tobias; just having a little dessert,” I say, bending down and using my lips to smear it all over his hard six pack abs.
“Fuck,” he moans as I lean down, lick his abs and rock against him.
I look up at him. “I’m hungry and burning.”
“So, multitasking,” he hisses as he grips my hips and rocks against me.
“Yes,” I whimper.