Taking a step toward him, my nerves twisted my stomach into knots. “Was I right about your story?” I asked in a hushed tone.
He moved toward me. “What do you think?”
I was quiet for a moment as I took a step toward him. We were only a foot away from one another. “I think I was right,” I murmured. “I think it’s about two people falling in love.”
“It was supposed to be something that makes a statement.” He paused. “I can’t think of a bigger statement to make.”
I swallowed hard. “I’m sorry I blocked you.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”
My eyes watered. “I heard the podcast. I heard you defend me. I heard…everything.”
Grabbing my face with his hands, Carlos closed the space between us. Capturing my mouth with his own, he kissed me with a tenderness that caused the tears to escape from my closed eyelids. He moved his hands from my face and down my neck and shoulders. He continued traveling down my arms until he wrapped his arms around me. Pulling me flush against his body, he deepened the kiss causing me to whimper lightly. It was so intense, it felt like he was trying to express what he felt for me through his lips.
I slid my hands up his arms until I clasped them around his neck. I started to feel weak as butterflies spread across my belly and through my entire body. My knees weakened in my boots, and he gripped me tighter, holding me steady.
When he pulled away from the kiss, he just stared at me. His mouth hovered over mine and his fingers dug into my lower back. “I quit the podcast.”
“What?” I breathed, staring up at him wide eyed.
“After what happened, I couldn’t do it. I’m sorry it took so long for me to see what you were saying, but I swear to God I won’t ever let anything happen to you.” He swept a tear from my cheek and then returned his hand to my lower back. “Akila?”
“Hmm?” I murmured, relishing the way he held me.
“You know I’ll protect you, right?” he asked with unquestionable sincerity.
“From toxic masculinity?”
“From everything. Anything you can’t handle, give it to me.” He kissed me. “I want you.”
A smile crept across my face. “Yeah, I can feel that.”
“No,” he chuckled. “I meant, I want you—all of you. I want to be with you.”
I didn’t have the words to express what I felt inside, so I pressed my lips against his.
“Ahem!” The sound of my father clearing his voice rang in my ears.
“Kiki?” The sound of my mom saying my name startled us apart.
“Hey!” I greeted my family cheerfully, giving them a brief hug. “We were just… I mean, this is—”
“I’m Carlos,” he reached forward and shook my dad’s hand first and then went around the group. “It’s great to meet each of you. Akila speaks highly of you.”
I grinned. “Where’s Alex?”
“Salivating over your photos” Meghan’s eyes shifted to Carlos, a huge grin on her face. “Carlos, Carlos, Carlos… It’s nice to officially put a name with a face.”
A little bit of me died of embarrassment. Only to be resurrected and die again when my mom started speaking.
“Oh! This is Carlos, Carlos!” My mom’s eyebrows shot up and her smile grew even larger. “Pleasure to meet you! You’re so good-looking! We’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Well, I haven’t. How do you know our daughter, young man?” my dad inquired.
I knew my dad was joking, but Carlos didn’t. “Dad,” I admonished him with a smile.
“We actually met in photography class and then we worked together for a little while at Re-Mix,” Carlos answered.
“When did this happen?” My mom gestured to the two of us. “Last time I checked, you don’t kiss your classmates.”
Slipping my hand into his, I stared up at him and smiled. He gazed at me with a look of affection and amusement.
“Carlos!” a beautiful couple shouted as soon as they came around the corner.
He let go of my hand to hug them. Returning to me, he draped his arm around my shoulders. “Mom, Dad, this is Akila. Akila, these are my parents.”
I shook their hands and introduced them to my family.
“Kiki, I love it! Oh!” Alex exclaimed. “Hi, everyone.” She looked around surprised but seemingly confused. Her eyes found her way to Carlos’s arm draped around my shoulder. “Well, well, well, what’s this?”
I giggled, looking up at him. “Alex, Carlos and I are—”
“Together,” he answered.
“Wait…” Alex’s smile dimmed. “Carlos from Date Night with The Lost Boys?”
My stomach tied itself into so many knots that it ached. “Let me explain,” I answered.
She turned around and walked away.
Shit!
“What’s wrong?” Mom asked, looking around.
Dad eyed Carlos. “What’s this Date Night?”
“It’s a podcast I used to work with,” Carlos answered.
“What?!” his mom cried, putting her hands to her cheeks. “You never told us you were on a podcast!”
“I quit.” Carlos rubbed my arm. “It’s a long story, but I’m no longer part of the program.”
“She didn’t know he quit.” I looked at my parents. “I’ll explain later, but I’m going to go find her.”
Alex hadn’t gotten that far. I saw her near the door when I started making my way to the front.
“Alex!” I called out to my sister as I maneuvered through the crowd of people and through the entrance of Rich Gallery. “Alex, wait!”
“I can’t believe you!” Her voice cut through the gentle October breeze. She folded her arms over her chest and squeezed her eyelids shut. When she opened them again, she gave me the saddest look. “You of all people know what they did to me. How could you be with him?”
“Alex, listen,” I stepped toward her. When she didn’t recoil, I took another step and wrapped my arms around her. “First and foremost, if Carlos would’ve had anything to do with that newsletter, I would’ve never forgiven him. That wasn’t him. I found out it was City Boy.” Pulling away, I looked into her eyes. “City Boy thought the email was about me and even when he found out it was you, he put your picture in the newsletter to hurt me.”
“What?! It wasn’t random?” Alex gasped.
I shook my head. “I’m sorry. He was trying to take me down, and you were collateral damage.”
“When did you find out? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“The night I went on Date Night. I forgot my notebook and when I went back to get it, I overheard City Boy and Country Boy talking. City Boy did the newsletter on his own as a way to fuck with me. I was going to tell you eventually. But I felt so responsible and you didn’t want to talk about it, so I waited. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to be sorry for what he did.” She paused. “But you should’ve told me all of this.”
“I didn’t want to make things worse.”
She shook her head. “It actually makes me feel a little better.”
My eyebrows flew up. “Really?”
“Well, knowing it wasn’t random and knowing there was a reason behind it besides…” She shook her head and wrapped her arms around her middle. “It sucks, and I hate that he would do that to you. But knowing City Boy did that to me for a reason that wasn’t just some perverted sexual objectification is better. Not by much, but it’s better.”
“So, can you forgive me?”
Her head tilted and pulled me into a hug. “Of course.” She squeezed me tightly. “I heard his name and remembered why he looked familiar and overreacted. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. I should’ve told you sooner.”
“I hope I didn’t ruin your showcase.”
I pulled out of the hug. “Not at all. But I should get back in there.”
With our arms linked, we walked back into the building. “Do you think Mom and Dad will judge me i
f I linger at your wall of photos instead of checking out everyone else’s?”
I let out a short laugh. “They won’t judge you for looking any more than they judged me for taking them.”
She giggled.
We found our parents talking with Carlos’s parents. I stopped to join the conversation, but Alex continued walking. When she approached Carlos, I watched silently as they talked. I didn’t know what was being discussed, but he listened intently while she talked. He nodded and after he said whatever he said, they hugged.
“What are you smiling at?” Meghan asked, calling me out.
“I’m just happy,” I giggled. “Where were you?”
“Bathroom and then checking out your photography again.” She smiled. “You’re very talented.”
“Thank you. I should probably go over and engage with people about the story.”
Her eyes widened. “There’s a story?”
I couldn’t do anything but laugh.
“Looks like they made up,” Meghan whispered as she walked with me to my photo wall.
“Yeah. I never got around to telling her what I found out about the newsletter.” I glanced over at Carlos and Alex who were both smiling.
“Looks like you two made up as well.” She bumped me with her hip.
I felt warm all over. “I don’t know what it is about him.”
Meghan pointed to the third picture in my photo story and quirked an eyebrow. “D-I-C you have a great balance of light and shadow. Oh, hey, Mrs. Bishara!”
Mom eyed us suspiciously before breaking into a huge grin. “Hmm… you two always look like you’re up to no good.”
“We would never!” I feigned shock, making Meghan giggle.
“Well, your father and I are going to check out the other exhibits with Carlos’s parents.”
My eyes widened. “Like a double date?”
“If that’s what you want to call it.” Mom laughed. “We want to continue talking. Your father and Alberto used to work for the same company and Pam and I love art. What can I say? We hit it off!”
The idea of the four of them becoming friends made me nervous for some reason.
We decided that we were going to be in a relationship and we met each other’s families all within the same five-minute timespan. I took a shaky breath. What if everything blows up in our faces?
“We’ll be back,” Mom informed me before walking back to Dad and her new friends, Mr. and Mrs. Richmond.
“I’ll listen in on the conversation for you and report back,” Meghan murmured as soon as Mom was out of earshot.
I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you so much.”
Meghan walked off to follow the parents, and Alex fell into step with her. Carlos walked over to me, but I couldn’t read his face.
“Our parents seem to like each other,” Carlos pointed out.
“I know… which is cool,” I replied, carefully choosing my words.
“Very cool.”
“But…”
“Weird?”
“Yes!”
We stood there grinning at one another.
“This is Akila Bishara,” Luca Romano interrupted, walking over with a woman. “She is the photographer for Sweatpants Season. Akila, this is Joan Stanford. She wanted to meet you.”
I reached out and shook Joan’s hand. “Hi, Ms. Stanford! Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you as well. Call me Joan. I’m interested in knowing more about your photo story for a writeup for The Herald.”
The Herald? The. Herald. The Herald! They wouldn’t even respond to my submission requests and now I’m talking to Joan Stanford of THE HEARLD! I internally screamed.
“Oh, wow. Yes, of course.” Beaming at Carlos and then Luca, I turned to begin discussing my project with Joan Stanford of The Herald. “Women are primarily the target of objectification, so I wanted to turn the tables…”
The End.
Have you read Broken Clocks?
Scroll ahead for a sneak peek!
Cuffing Season
I wasn’t looking for a man.
I was looking for a mentor.
When renowned photographer Luca Romano returned home to teach a Photo Storytelling workshop, Hamilton University was buzzing. But a campus wide email warned us not to approach Luca if we weren’t selected to participate—and I wasn’t selected.
I wasn’t looking to break the rules.
I was looking to break into the industry.
I knew getting photographed by Luca Romano would catapult my career. I hoped he’d call, but I had no expectations. I wanted to converse with him, pick his brain, expand my portfolio. That’s all.
Listen… I wasn’t looking to be his muse.
But I wasn’t going to tell him no.
Broken Clocks Sneak Peek
My Dearest Layla
I don’t have many regrets. But I regret not telling you that I had cancer. Please don’t be mad at your mother either. I forbade her from telling you. I wanted to tell you myself. But the more time passed, the harder it got. But that’s no excuse. I should’ve been honest with you. But I will say this… Your mother knew, and she shifted from my child to my nurse. She didn’t ask me how I was doing to hear my stories anymore. She asked me how I was doing with managing my pain and taking my pills. She worried about me, not because I was still missing your grandfather, but because I was sick. But with you, my lovely Layla, we would sit back and talk about any and everything. With you, my love, I could forget.
This does not absolve me from keeping you in the dark. But I hope that it can show you that I didn’t do it to hurt you. I did it to free you. I did it to free us. If I could do it over again, I wouldn’t have told your mother. So please, don’t hold it against your mother. And please, don’t hold it against me.
Even though I’m sure you’re angry, please don’t hold it against me. Please don’t forget that I was there for you as much as you were there for me. Who talked to you about sex and birth control when you were too embarrassed to talk to your parents? When you got caught with condoms, who said they were hers so you didn’t get into trouble? Who didn’t tell your parents when you stole her condoms?
And if you’re really angry, please don’t forget who covered for you when I caught you and Jenelle on her birthday, drinking with two boys in my house when you thought me and your grandfather were going to the casino? She may have been twenty-one, but you weren’t.
And if you’re really, really angry, please don’t forget that Nana loves you, and that you are my best friend—right after your grandfather. And right after Rose. But none of the old biddies I had book club or church functions with held a candle to you.
You kept me young. You kept me honest. You kept me company. You were my light, and the moment your mother had you, I knew that you were going to be the golden goose. Not just because you’re my only granddaughter. And not just because you look more like me than any of my children do. You, Layla, are something special.
When your grandfather passed away, I didn’t know what I was going to do. But I will never forget the day it happened or the fact that I woke up and he had stopped breathing sometime after some early morning canoodling. We had gotten up to have coffee, watch the news, talk on the porch, and then we returned to bed at eight. After a tumble in the hay, we fell asleep and when I woke up, my watch had stopped at 9:27 a.m. When I looked at the clock in the room, it was about 9:50 a.m. I tried to wake him and called emergency services a few minutes later. They were here at 9:58 a.m. He was pronounced dead soon thereafter. They said he’d been without oxygen for at least thirty minutes.
There is no one who can tell me that he didn’t die at 9:27 a.m.
For the last three years, I’ve missed him, but I didn’t dwell on it. I knew we would be reunited again. So, I focused on the fact that there is so much life to be lived and I need to take advantage of it. A broken clock is only right twice a day. Any other time, you’re just guessing and trying to figure it out. So, seize t
he day and the opportunities. You don’t get an unlimited amount of times to get something right or to capitalize on it in the way God intended. God knows that we’re flawed humans, so he gives us a second chance to get it right.
You get two times for the timing to be perfect, and everything lines up just right. If you miss the opportunity the first time, make sure you jump on it the second time. Don’t settle. Be patient, and wait for it to come around again. If you do that you’ll have few regrets and plenty of stories. You’ll have a love life for the ages. And if you’re lucky, maybe it’ll be with one man. And if you’re luckier, maybe it’ll be with three. You’ll have a job that won’t feel like work. You’ll have at least one friend you can count on. You will see humor in things and not take yourself so seriously, while at the same time knowing your worth.
I want you to have that kind of life, Layla. You’re still going to die at the end of it, but you will have lived. And when you die, you won’t be afraid because you’ll know that you lived, you loved, and you laughed. So, to my dearest Layla, I leave you my watch that I got from the love of my life to remind you that a broken clock being right twice a day means that in any given situation, perfect timing only happens twice.
I love you. I’ll be waiting for you when it’s your time. We’ll have new stories to tell each other. Because the first thing I’m doing when I get to heaven is kissing my husband. The second is to find Rose because you know she died owing me twenty dollars.
Never forget that Nana loves you.
Love Always,
Nana
Chapter One
I exhaled slowly as I watched William Grayson walk away from me and out of my life forever. There was no way he wasn’t going to get that promotion. He had just finished his second interview and from the sound of it he would be the head of the Philadelphia division in three weeks. Not only was he great at his job, I knew from personal experience he was extremely good at taking charge.
Sweatpants Season Page 26