Fall in Love

by Anthology

  My cell began vibrating. It was my manager, Troy.

  “Hey, man,” I said.

  “How’s the state for lover’s treating you?”

  “I’ve only been here for half a day and I’ve already had a half-naked chick in my house, so pretty good I’d say.”

  “Sounds about right. I don’t know why you didn’t rent a place in Malibu. I mean, Virginia?” His tone of voice implied that I was certifiable for ending up here.

  “If I wanted to get my photo on the front of every gossip magazine I would’ve stayed in Malibu. I’m here to chill, man.”

  “Well, I’m throwing a wrench in your plans.”

  I sighed. There was always something. “What’s up?”

  “I just got a call from the producers at the E Channel. They’re looking to do a reality show on the life of a hip-hop artist and your name came up.”

  I perked up. “Really? What’s it involve?”

  “Filming would last four months, but they’d start with a test pilot. Probably spin it as a special and see if it gains a following.”

  “Are we talking something like that family that has all the Ks in their names?”

  “Less scripted.”

  “This might be the opportunity we’ve been looking for to broaden my appeal. Let me branch out of hip-hop into some of the other areas we’ve been talking about.”

  “Exactly my thinking. And they’re offering a seven-figure advance.”

  “You definitely have my attention.”

  “Good, but it’s probably going to cut into your self-imposed sabbatical.”

  Troy was still pissed that I’d insisted on taking a month off. The fact was, though, I needed it. I’d been working nonstop for five years and I needed a break. I’d learned a while ago that the industry and the people in it will take and take. And after they’ve sucked all the life out of you, they’ll just move on to the next rising star. There’s always someone else nipping at your heels in this business.

  “No chance we can put it off until next month some time?”

  “None, they want to start filming by then.”

  I rubbed my hand over my face. “What do you need from me?”

  “To be available. They’re gonna want to meet with you. Next week probably.”

  I’d planned on relaxation only this month, but this was too good an opportunity to pass up.

  “Let me know when and where.”

  “Good.”

  “Oh, Troy. One stipulation. I’d want some creative control and I want it clear that my family is not a part of this. They’re not going to be on camera and there’ll be no discussion on my mom’s many issues. Think that’ll be a problem?”

  “Probably not. We can see if they’ll name you as a producer on the show. I don’t think it’d be a deal breaker. They seem to be about exposing behind the scenes of the hip-hop world more than anything,” he said.

  “Great. Let’s make this happen then.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I paced the front porch and waited for Mason to arrive. I didn’t want him ringing the bell because then I’d have to play twenty questions with my mother.

  Skye and I had settled on my dark skinny jeans with heels and a basic black tank with a white silk vest over top. I’d worn my hair down and waves cascaded down my back. I had no idea what he had planned but my ensemble straddled the line between dressy and casual.

  I was also wearing my period panties. That’s what Skye and I called our ugliest granny panties. Those you wouldn’t think twice about wearing when Aunt Flo came for a visit.

  Skye and I had instituted the ten-date-rule in college. No getting naked before that. Let’s face it, college is full of first freedoms, alcohol and a lot of hormones. The last thing either of us wanted to become was a cliché college girl who boinked every guy after she got out from under her parent’s thumb.

  Most guys didn’t make it to date three. It was one of the ways I knew if I really liked someone. If I cringed at the thought that a guy might make it to date eleven, I knew he wasn’t for me.

  Mason was off the charts hot. Hence, period panties. There was no way, no matter how in the moment or turned on you were, you’d ever let a guy like Mason see you in granny panties. They were a modern-day chastity belt.

  A car engine sounded down the street, and I heard the thrum of a bassline. Mason’s white Range Rover pulled into the driveway. I made my way to the vehicle with hurried steps, eager to get in the car in case my mom poked her head out the door.

  “You didn’t have to wait outside for me. I could’ve come to the door,” Mason said.

  He was dressed in a pair of distressed jeans with a beige designer T-shirt that was moulded to the muscles underneath. His cologne was an enticing mix of wood and leather. God, the sight of him was enough to make my knees weak. Add in his scent and the female population didn’t stand a chance.

  Thank. God. For. Period. Panties.

  I realized I was staring at him like an idiot. Again.

  “Oh, it’s no problem. It’s a nice evening to sit outside.”

  He gave me a big smile. “I’m glad you think so. I thought we could eat out on the deck tonight.”

  I swallowed, hard. “We’re going back to your place for dinner?” I asked, hearing the mild panic in my voice.

  “If that’s okay with you.”

  I nodded.

  “Great.”

  He reversed the vehicle and in minutes we were sailing down the expressway toward the ocean. The ride to the beach house was quiet because I was nervous as hell and didn’t know what to say. Mason let me pick the music again so I was humming along with Neil Young as we pulled into the driveway.

  We parked and he opened his door and walked around to open mine. “Come on,” he said. I followed him inside the house. He headed toward the kitchen. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

  “A beer would be good,” I said.

  “Coming up.” A few moments later he passed the beer to me, his fingers brushing over mine with the lightest touch. I’d have sworn on a stack of bibles that it’d been intentional. I cleared my throat and took a quick swig of my beer.

  “So what do you want to do tonight?” I asked.

  He bent down to grab something out of the fridge but popped his head up over the door and raised an eyebrow at me. “Loaded question.”

  Heat rose to my cheeks at his implication.

  He came away from the fridge holding a platter of food and set it down on the granite breakfast bar. “I hope you’re hungry.”

  “I’m starved.”

  “I picked up some stuff to barbeque: steak, baked potatoes, and corn on the cob.”

  “Sounds great. Can I help with anything?”

  “If you could bring the beers out onto the deck, I’ll grab the food and we can chill out there while the food cooks.”

  I grabbed his beer off the counter and followed him out to the deck. The ocean was quiet and serene and did a lot to calm my nerves. The sun hadn’t set yet but it had begun its descent. We didn’t get sunsets over the water on this side of the country but that didn’t make them any less beautiful. The sky was filled with a golden glow and wisps of gossamer clouds were highlighted in various shades of orange and red.

  I chose a chair at the table closest to the barbecue and eased into it while Mason lit the gas and cleaned off the burners. He placed the potatoes inside and came to join me at the table. He leaned back in his chair, looking entirely at ease with his long legs stretched out in front of him.

  “Are you from Virginia Beach?” he asked.

  “Not originally. I moved here to live with my mom and her husband after I couldn’t get a decent job out of college. I was born in Indiana. Where are you from?”

  “I grew up in Mississippi.”

  “Where’s your twang?” I asked.

  “I’ve done my best to lose it over the years. It wasn’t easy.”

  “That’s a shame. There’s something sexy about a man with a Southern
accent.” My bold statement surprised even myself.

  “Dagnabit darlin’, you sayin’ you don’t find me all kinds a sexy without this Southan drawl?”

  I laughed. “So what do you do for a living? What brings you to Virginia Beach?”

  He shifted in his seat and looked uncomfortable with my question.

  “I’m a songwriter.”

  “Wow. Anything I might know?”

  “Doubtful.”

  I wasn’t sure how true that was given the fact he could afford to rent this beach house for a month. The royalty checks must have been rolling in at a pretty steady pace.

  “And you’re here because…”

  “Just to relax. I have a busy few months coming up.”

  “What’s going to keep you so busy?”

  “A lot of travel. Nothing that exciting.”

  I let the subject drop. I was getting the vibe he didn’t want to expand any further on the topic. “How are you enjoying yourself?” I asked.

  “So far so good.” His gaze slid from my face down the length of my body. Now I was the one who was uncomfortable. I didn’t know what to say but he saved me the trouble when he got up to add corn and meat to the grill.

  We chatted about this and that and nothing in particular for the next twenty minutes while he finished cooking dinner. When it was ready we sat across from each other at the table directly overlooking the ocean.

  “This is really good,” I said after digging into my steak.

  “Thanks.”

  Mason could add barbecuing to his list of impressive qualities. The food was so good I finished everything on my plate. I’d had a brief moment of wondering whether or not I should pretend to be a dainty eater but decided against it. Who was I kidding? I liked to eat and if we spent any time at all together he’d figure it out anyway. Why bother pretending?

  It dawned on me that I was hoping we’d spend more time together. That surprised me. After my last experience with a guy you’d think I’d be steering clear. I’d known I was physically attracted to him, but now it was more.

  Over the course of our short dinner I’d grown comfortable with him, curious about him, and I wanted to know more.

  “Ellie?” Mason’s voice brought me out of my thoughts.

  “Sorry, what?”

  “Do you wanna grab another drink and go sit down by the beach?”

  “Sure. Let me help you take the plates in first.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “You made an amazing dinner. It’s the least I can do.”

  I grabbed his plate and stacked it on top of my own. He carried the platter and the empty beer bottles and we made our way into the house.

  “Set them on the counter and I’ll get to them all later.”

  “I can throw them in the dishwasher if you want,” I said.

  “Ellie, I didn’t ask you over here so you could load my dishwasher.” He grinned.

  Was it wrong I hoped there was some innuendo in his statement and that he planned on following up on it later? It was only our first date after all.

  He grabbed a couple more beers from the fridge, passed one to me and then led me from the kitchen. His large hand gripped mine as we made our way out onto the deck. I got a thrill from the physical contact. You know the way your stomach starts to feel a little funny and how try as you might you can’t help the grin that keeps trying to creep onto your face? That was me.

  My heels clicked across the deck as we made our way to the stairs leading down to the beach. It was fully dark out by now but the deck had built-in lights casting a glow several feet onto the beach.

  We reached the bottom stair and Mason sat down on it. I removed my heels, placed them on the top stair, and stepped down into the sand. The soft crystals felt good; warm on the top and cool underneath. I seated myself beside Mason.

  The stairway wasn’t that wide and our hips touched. I could feel the heat from his body, and I longed to feel more of it but quickly checked my thoughts.

  We sat in silence for a few minutes. Normally I’d be looking to fill the awkward stretch of silence that was inevitable after all the bullshit small talk was out of the way. For some reason sitting there quietly with Mason felt comfortable, like we’d done it a thousand times before and would do it a thousand times more.

  I finally spoke up. Not out of discomfort but because I really did want to know more about him.

  “Do you have any siblings?” I asked.

  “Two. Both much younger. Justin and Olivia.”

  “Your parents sure waited a long time between having you and them.”

  “Same mother, different father. My dad took off when I was still a baby. Their father only stuck around for a couple years after they were born so it’s really just been us and our mom.”

  “I’m sorry. About your father, I mean.” What an idiot. Why had I assumed his parents were still together?

  “It’s no biggie. All I’ve ever known. What about you? You have any brothers or sisters?”

  “No. I’m an only child. I didn’t know my dad growing up, either.” I don’t know why I’d thought it necessary to throw that out there. Maybe to let him know he didn’t need to feel ashamed he didn’t know his father? Sometimes the fact that your father hadn’t stuck around seemed like a reflection of you, even though logically you knew it wasn’t.

  He didn’t say anything, angling himself to look me in the eyes. His look said he understood what it meant to have a piece of yourself floating around out there, without any means to find it, or understanding why it wouldn’t want to find you.

  It didn’t bother me anymore. Growing up, whenever I’d ask my mom about my father she’d shut down and wouldn’t tell me a damn thing. I could tell it upset her when I asked and eventually I figured out she was never going to tell me anything and stopped asking. I’m sure that sounds weird to most people, but when that’s always how it’s been, you don’t even stop to think it might be strange—not when you’re the one living it.

  “So what do you do at the real estate office?” he asked.

  “Nothing much. Watch the minutes tick by until I can go home.”

  Mason laughed. “Passion for your work, I see.”

  “It’s a means to an end. I’m trying to find a job in the field I graduated in.”

  “What did you study?”

  “I got my degree in comparative media studies at U Miami.”

  “Impressive.”

  “I thought so, too, until I graduated and couldn’t find a job,” I said wryly.

  “I have to be honest. I have no idea what a degree in comparative media studies will get you.”

  I laughed. “Most people don’t. Basically it means I can work anywhere from radio, game design, online, film or television. It’s pretty broad, which I thought would help me because I’d be able to apply my skills to a lot of different industries.”

  “Not the case so far?”

  “Unfortunately, no. The economy still isn’t great and employers are hiring candidates with proven experience.”

  “That’s frustrating because how do you get the experience if no one will hire you?”

  “Exactly. I know I’ll get a decent job, it’s gonna happen, but patience has never been my strong suit.”

  “So why are you in Virginia Beach if you went to school in Miami?”

  “Because my landlord in Miami wouldn’t accept my charm as payment for rent. I had to move in with my mother and her latest husband.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Yeah. That’s putting it mildly.”

  He reached behind me and placed his hand at my nape and squeezed in what I think was supposed to be a reassuring gesture. “I’m sure something will come up.” I found his touch more provocative than reassuring but he could have been giving me a root canal and that’d still be the case.

  “I hope so. Moving back in with my mom after being on my own for four years hasn’t been the highlight of my year. Where do you live?”


  “Pretty much wherever my work takes me.”

  “I didn’t realize songwriters had to travel around so much.”

  He appeared momentarily uncomfortable and I wondered what I’d said wrong.

  “Sometimes.” He took another swig of his beer and I could tell it was the end of that line of conversation. Mental note to self. Mason does not like to talk about his work.

  “Would you like to go out again, Ellie?”

  He’d caught me off guard with his quick change of topic. “Oh, um…yeah. I’d like that.”

  He moved closer to me and the heat radiating off his body mirrored my own. He leaned in, one hand moved to my lower back, the other bunched my hair at the side of my neck.

  He was going to kiss me. I was equal parts ecstatic and scared as hell. What if he didn’t like how I kissed? What if he wasn’t a good kisser? That would totally ruin the hot as hell image I had of him.

  His lips touched mine and in an instant my insecurities vanished. He pressed my lips lightly at first and ran his tongue along the seam. I parted my lips to give him access. The moment our tongues met my hormones went into overdrive.

  I wasn’t the only one. He pressed me closer. His tongue slipped over mine and the pace increased until the kiss became almost frantic. We couldn’t get enough of each other and it was like we were trying to devour one another whole.

  He pulled away and I immediately missed the feeling of his body close to mine. Our heavy breathing and the pounding of the surf were the only sounds. He fixed his gaze on me with half-closed lids, grabbed me by the waist and lifted me so I straddled his lap.

  I should have been offended or afraid. In truth, I liked how he manhandled me. I’d probably put the feminist movement back twenty years with my enjoyment of his display of physical strength and the blatant male satisfaction on his face when he saw I was impressed by it.

  Not wanting to be outdone I pushed him until he leaned back on the staircase. The stairs probably dug into his back but he wasn’t complaining. From the feel of his rigid shaft underneath me, complaints probably weren’t on his mind.