Crushed

by Pratt, Lulu

  She giggled as we arrived at the bar before climbing into a stool as I remained standing behind her. While Charlotte ordered, I scanned the interior, feeling a little relief when I didn’t recognize anyone. After a few years in Minneapolis, I was always shocked by how few people I knew in the city that raised me. There was a time when a night out would feel like a reunion, running into everyone I went to high school with. But now, the crowd looked unfamiliar and a few years younger.

  “To our first date,” Charlotte smiled, handing me a cold bottle of beer.

  “To our first date,” I repeated, again regretting the impulsive decision. She deserved something fancier than a night at a bar.

  Reminding myself that we would have plenty of dates to come, I relaxed. Charlotte looked around the bar, and I wondered if she too was concerned about being spotted by someone who knew her brother. I’d just sat beside her when two young ladies approached us. Charlotte turned to see them before jumping up to give each one of them a hug.

  “Happy belated birthday!” I heard one of them say to her. She beamed, carrying on the conversation before turning to me.

  “This is my boyfriend Ford,” she said, introducing me to the women with pride, but all I could think about was the news making its way back to her brother.

  “Nice to meet you both,” I forced a smile.

  Charlotte seemed to notice my discomfort and ended the interaction quickly before settling back into the barstool. “Are you embarrassed to be called my boyfriend?” she asked, the hurt evident in her tone.

  “No, that’s not it,” I shook my head. Finishing up my beer, I reached for my wallet before placing a bill to cover the tab on the bar as I nodded towards the bartender. “Let’s get out of here.”

  There was too much to say and the bar too loud to hear each other’s thoughts. I needed a quiet place where my concerns wouldn’t halt my ability to enjoy Charlotte’s company.

  There was a small family-owned restaurant just a short walk from the bar. I decided to take her there. The walk was silent, but far from awkward. As always, our fingers were interlocked, my mind racing with how I could explain my feelings to her.

  I didn’t ever want her to think I was ashamed of her or our relationship. If it were up to me, I’d scream about her from the highest mountaintop. I wanted everyone to know how deeply I cared for her. It was just the secrecy of it all. If she wanted our connection to remain private, introducing me to her friends was off limits.

  “Good evening, table for two?” the hostess asked as we entered the restaurant.

  “Yes,” I answered, looking around the small dining area. “Can we sit there?” I pointed to a table in the back corner of the restaurant. The hostess glanced over her shoulder, noticing the small empty table before nodding as she handed me two menus, instructing us to seat ourselves.

  After helping Charlotte into her seat, I took the one opposite her, with a clear view of the front door. It was much quieter in the restaurant, as all the patrons focused on their private conversations. Still, I scanned the crowd for familiar faces. I felt slight relief when no one appeared to recognize us.

  “You’re worried about someone seeing us and telling Marshall, aren’t you?” Charlotte asked, reaching across the table and placing her hands on mine.

  “I just don’t want him to hear it from anyone but me or you,” I explained, massaging the back of her hands with my thumbs. “It has nothing to do with being embarrassed.”

  “I know,” she said, but her eyes let me know that she was uncomfortable. “I forget you’re worrying about that too.”

  I could see the concern in her eyes, though I doubted it could ever match mine. Sure, Marshall was her brother, but he was my best friend. When it came to me and Charlotte, I knew he would expect me to stop anything that may begin to brew between us. She was younger and more impressionable. I was supposed to be the responsible one, the one to make a judgment call if it ever came to this.

  “It’ll be best if I can just talk to him,” I began, but Charlotte was already shaking her head.

  “I’m not ready for that, Ford. My brother can be so unreasonable. I don’t want him ruining this,” she explained.

  “Nothing can ruin what we have. There’s no reason for us to be hiding something so special,” I urged, but she looked away, unmoved.

  “I know,” she said, inhaling deeply. “I just need a little more time.” She looked deeply into my eyes. “Promise me you won’t tell him behind my back.”

  “I would never go against your wishes on something this important.” I clenched her hands in mine.

  “I want to tell him,” she said, pleading with her eyes. “I’m just not ready.” She repeated the same explanation she’d been using since our first time together. I could understand her apprehension, but I feared time would only make things worse.

  “It’s your brother, so it’s your call,” I said, forcing a smile as the waitress approached the table.

  “What can I get for you two tonight?” the woman asked with a pen in her hand already hovering above a small notebook.

  “Oh, I hadn’t even looked at the menu,” Charlotte said.

  “What’s your best dish?” I asked, watching the older woman blush as she looked down at her feet.

  “Well, I love the fried chicken, but a lot of people like the roast and mashed potatoes,” she said with a smile.

  “How about we take one of each,” I answered, glancing at the menu. “And a slice of chocolate cake, and a banana pudding.”

  She scribbled on her notepad before glancing up. “What would you like to drink?”

  “I’ll take lemonade,” I answered, handing her the menu.

  “And what about you, lucky lady?” she asked Charlotte, bringing a smile to her face.

  “I’ll have the iced tea,” Charlotte answered.

  “Okay, I’ll put your order in now. Shouldn’t be long,” the waitress said, taking Charlotte’s menu before walking towards the front of the restaurant.

  “Seems like I’m not the only one with a crush on Ford Delvey,” she smirked.

  I chuckled just as someone entered the restaurant with a familiar face. Following the patron with my eyes, my stomach dropped with the fear we would be spotted. Then they looked directly at me, and I realized I didn’t know them.

  “Maybe we should just get the food to go?” Charlotte said, drawing my attention from the door.

  “What do you mean?” I returned my attention to her.

  “You’re watching the door like a hawk, and you can’t even enjoy yourself.”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t be distracted again,” I offered.

  “It’s okay. I don’t care about going out, Ford. You might have ordered cake and pudding, but I’m most interested in being your dessert tonight,” she said, a mischievous grin spreading across her beautiful face.

  “Well, when you put it like that,” I bit my bottom lip to contain my own smile as I rose from my seat to find the waitress and change our order.

  Chapter 29

  CHARLOTTE

  “SHE WASN’T lying about the fried chicken,” Ford said, leaning back on the sofa as he closed his eyes with pleasure. It was strangely erotic watching him eat dinner. It seemed everything he did turned me on.

  “You should try the roast,” I said, scooping a little gravy, mashed potatoes, and beef on the plastic fork the restaurant had added to the takeaway bags. Ford leaned over with an open mouth.

  “Mmm,” he moaned, closing his eyes as he chewed the delicious roast.

  “I told you,” I giggled, reaching over to his plastic container for a bite of fried chicken.

  It was all so familiar, like we’d been together for years. It was strange how everything with Ford felt new and fresh, but also comfortable, as though I’d never been without him.

  He still hadn’t unpacked most of the boxes crowding his living room, including the one he claimed contained his knives and forks. I couldn’t begin to understand how he was living wi
thout silverware.

  “How was work?” Ford asked before shoveling another bite of dinner into his mouth.

  “It was good,” I nodded, leaning to reach the smaller containers filled with dessert. “My classmates all come to me for advice now. It’s cool, but sometimes overwhelming. I’m one of the youngest people in the class.”

  It still boggled me to be a leader to grown-ups. Even though I’d just celebrated a milestone birthday, I didn’t always see myself as a real adult. I’d never truly lived on my own, or had a career. Some of my classmates were married with children, looking for a change in life, whereas I was just getting started.

  “Of course they come to you! You’re the most talented baker in the class. They probably all follow you online,” he smirked, half focused on his dinner.

  “I know for sure one of the girls in the class follows me. Some of them look like they wouldn’t even know how to work a smart phone,” I giggled, thinking of my older classmates.

  “I still don’t think I fully understand your decision to join the internship program. You’re so advanced, it doesn’t seem like you need any more teaching.”

  “I’m good at what I know, and so I will focus on that. But I don’t know everything. My instructor is brilliant. He’s studied in France, and he knows all these different techniques I didn’t even know existed.”

  “Uh-huh,” Ford nodded, unimpressed. “And does he have his own bakery?” He turned to me with a raised eyebrow.

  “No, he just runs the internship program,” I answered, wondering why Mike didn’t have his own bakery. My teacher had proven to be an expert, with more than enough experience, but he only taught the program. I always assumed it was what he wanted to do, but now I questioned why he wasn’t running his own place.

  “What about you? Do you want to teach your own internship plan, or have a bakery?” Ford asked.

  “I’d love to have my own little shop, but I’m not ready,” I admitted, before quickly adding an excuse for why I could never achieve it.

  More than once, I’d dreamed of having my own Artful Eats. But there were so many steps between my current state and opening a place, I couldn’t begin to see it as feasible.

  “Why not?” Ford asked, reaching for the banana pudding in my hand before placing the container on the cardboard boxes we’d used as a makeshift coffee table.

  “How can I open a place? I don’t know anything about business,” I admitted, looking away a bit embarrassed.

  Undeterred, Ford reached for my hand, pulling me towards him until I was on his lap, my legs straddling his broad body. Staring into my eyes, he ran his fingers through my hair, studying me. While I wasn’t sure of his motive, I was certainly feeling desired.

  “If you want to open a bakery, I want to help you make it happen. We can figure out all the details along the way,” he said.

  “I’m so young,” I huffed nervously.

  “There’s no age requirement for going after your dream. All you have to do is decide. You have more than enough talent. You’ve proven your dedication by enrolling in the internship. And soon, you’ll have that under your belt for experience. Working at the café taught you a lot about running a business, I’m sure.”

  I’d never thought of it in that way. Because of my boss’ laziness at the café, I did have to do much more than a typical barista. I managed the hiring of staff, scheduling, and even the orders for ingredients. At the time, it felt like a bother, but in a roundabout way, it had taught me a lot about what it was like to run a business.

  “You really think I can have my own bakery?”

  “I know you can.” Ford didn’t hesitate with his answer.

  Squinting, I tried to tell if he was serious or not. Opening a bakery was such a big dream, I often deemed it outlandish. But here Ford was, someone who had never so much as baked a cake, confident I could make it happen. He believed in me, and my talent, possibly even more than me. In that moment, I felt myself falling even further for him.

  “So, you’d help me, huh?” I asked, just hoping to hear his declaration again.

  “Charlotte, I want to help you achieve every one of your goals,” he proclaimed, staring deep into my eyes. My body awakened as his hands massaged my hips, leading me forward and backward against his growing erection.

  “Well, I want to help you reach the goal of unpacking this house, so we’re not using boxes as a coffee table,” I joked, watching his grin spread across his face.

  “I have a coffee table somewhere around here,” he glanced from left to right.

  It was ridiculous how many boxes he had lining his home. There were stacks of them in every direction, some with descriptions scribbled on the outside in permanent marker, and others left blank. Ford didn’t seem bothered to unpack them, but I knew the house would feel so much more welcoming once he did.

  “Oh yeah? And just when do you plan on unpacking your things so you can locate your coffee table, Mr. Delvey?” I asked, winding my body seductively as Ford stared up at me with lust-filled eyes.

  “When you move in,” he answered quickly. My body froze as my heart fluttered with excitement.

  So much had happened since he initially mentioned his desire for us to live together outside the bakery. I’d pushed his impromptu proposal out of my mind, nervous that it was actually a joke or him thinking aloud, and how special it made me feel. It was often that I questioned if I were making up the feelings I had in my mind, pretending there was more brewing between us than there actually was.

  Ford asking me to live with him was the proof I needed to know I wasn’t falling alone. He was right there with me, wanting even more time spent together. As it was, we spent almost every waking moment together, but I’d occasionally have to go home to not concern my brother.

  I hated separating from Ford, and it appeared he hated it just as much. My body felt light and needy, desperate to show him how good he made me feel. Whenever I was with him, I was riding a high I never wanted to come down from. Everything was perfect if I was with Ford.

  Leaning down, I chose to answer with my body, rather than words. It was our private language, and I was fluent. Moving my tongue up and down, I explored his mouth, moving my hips back and forth. Always one to lead, Ford assisted me by placing both hands on my hips to guide me.

  The friction of his pants against my sweet spot made me pull away from the embrace as my breath escaped me. Ford didn’t slow for a second, choosing to direct his seduction towards my neck instead. One kiss after another, he teased the sensitive area below my ear before traveling down to my collar bone.

  His tongue could do things to my body I didn’t know were possible. My body was craving him, pressing hard against the bulge in his pants as the waves in my stomach built hard and fast. I was racing towards a climax when Ford abruptly lifted me from the couch, carrying me through the living room.

  “What are you doing?” I whined, holding onto his shoulders as I began kissing his neck, refusing to slow the passion.

  With the lack of furniture in his house and our urgency to undress each other every evening, we regularly used his couch as a replacement for his bed. When my hormones began rising, the few steps to his bedroom felt like a lifetime, and I never had the patience.

  “I need a bed for what I’m about to do to you,” he growled, gripping a handful of my hair as he rushed up the steps.

  Chapter 30

  FORD

  MY CHEST ROSE and fell quickly, my heart beating out of my chest as my adrenaline continued to race. I’d never experienced anything like the sexual gratification Charlotte introduced me to. It was about so much more than sex with her – our connection intensified things in a way I couldn’t explain.

  Watching her walk into the bathroom, the curves of her naked body aroused me only minutes after my life-altering orgasm. My hunger for her could never be silenced, it seemed.

  “Come here,” she called over her shoulder from the bathroom entryway. Her eyes, still cloudy from her own exp
losive orgasms, pulled me from my exhaustive state.

  Without question, I followed her command, as always. There was nothing Charlotte could ask of me that I wouldn’t do. At times, I feared the power she had over me, wondering if she knew how easily she could convince me of almost anything.

  “What’s up, baby?” I asked, draping my arms over her shoulders as the palms of my hands rested on her bare stomach.

  “I want you to take a bath with me,” she said, glancing over her shoulder again.

  “Together?” I asked, chuckling at the suggestion.

  “Yes, together, silly. I brought some things,” she explained, leading to the bathroom counter, where a small plastic bag sat. She reached inside, revealing two small bottles.

  “When did you bring those?” I wondered, certain she didn’t have them when I picked her up today.

  “The other day,” she answered nonchalantly, leading me towards the tub. I secretly liked that she was leaving things at my place.

  She still hadn’t given me a straight answer about moving in with me, but I could tell she was open to the idea. By leaving things around, I felt we were moving in the right direction. It made no sense for her to go home every few days when neither of us wanted it.

  “What is that?” I asked as she began running the water. When I first toured my new house, I figured I would never use the bathtub. Now, watching Charlotte carefully pour out a liquid, I grew excited to join her.

  “This one’s oil,” she held up the bottle. The aroma rose with the steam of the hot water, opening my sinuses. “It’s lavender, my favorite.”

  “And what about that one?” I asked as she began to sprinkle purple crystals atop the water.

  “These are bath salts. They’re good for soaking. They’ll help loosen your muscles.” She smiled, wrapping her hand halfway around my bicep.

  “You’re the only workout I’ve been getting,” I said as I wrapped my arms around her.

  It was unlike me to stay away from the gym for so long. Typically, I worked out two or three times a week, but ever since I’d begun dating Charlotte, I could never pull myself away from her. Our time together was so valuable, I never wanted to waste a second. So, I’d only been working out during the nights she would stay at home. It was the only way to stop myself from popping up at her house unexpectedly.