Obscured Love

by Delilah Mohan

  “This one is different, isn’t she?” If she meant that there was not a single person like Lotus, my blue eyed, crazy haired, beauty . . . I would have to agree. She’d always been one of a kind.

  I smiled just thinking of the wild girl, now woman standing a mere ten feet away. “What do you mean?”

  “You don’t look at her like you did Alexa. This, it just seems . . . real. You love her, don’t you?” she searched me for an answer, an answer I couldn’t give because I didn't even know what love was any more, and I was sure the hell not capable of it. Never again.

  So, I gave her the only answer I could think of, the only answer that was fit for this conversation, however evasive it was. “I’ll see you Monday, Steph. Enjoy your weekend.”

  I shut the door, and then leaned my head against it, trying to draw enough strength to turn around and face the girl who repeatedly caught me off guard and kept me off balance. The same girl who could make my cock twitch with anticipation with the lightest brush of her fingertips against my skin. And she didn't know, she didn't even realize that in two years, she was the only girl who had done it. The only one my body had decided to crave, despite my mind begging it not to. With a deep breath, I pushed myself off the door and headed towards the hallway.

  “Where are you going? We were just going to start Monster House.” Lotus called toward my back.

  Without turning around, I yelled over my shoulder, “I need a shower. A cold shower.”

  I slammed the bathroom door and I couldn’t be sure, but I could have sworn I heard an evil cackle that had nothing to with the movie.

  Chapter 13

  LOTUS

  Ink. So many colorful masterpieces artfully scrolled across the hard planes of muscles along the left side of Beckett’s body. They stretched over his chest, splashing over his right pectoral and all I could think about was touching it. Trailing my fingers over ever curve and solid line and memorizing the images, secrets, and stories that they tell. I wanted to know what they meant, what they all stood for, and why he had chosen to leave such a huge chunk of skin completely unmarred directly over his heart.

  But I never got a chance to ask. I had to pretend like I’d seen him shirtless before, not gawk at the reveal of a large expanse of tattoos I never knew existed. I sucked up my shock and ignored the sharp jolt of lust and played my part. Pretending that Beckett was in love with me and that Stephanie was wasting her time pursuing him was the easiest and hardest part I have ever had to play.

  The need to chase Stephanie away like some jealous, catty girlfriend came so naturally to me. The strong pull I had always had to protect him from unworthy members of the female gender hadn’t dissipated over time, if anything, it had only grown in strength. My first act of protection might have started young by tripping Juliann Hopkins when I saw her intentionally put gum into Beckett’s hair. Now that we were adults, I couldn't help the urge to protect him from those who wanted what he could offer them, without a thought to what they could give him in return. He was worth more than some chick with fake hair, fake boobs, fake nails, and I could probably bet money that the smile would be a fake too.

  I would be lying if I said pretending to be his girlfriend wasn’t hard. After the kisses we shared, and the small moments that had crept up on us without warning over the last few weeks . . . it just seemed unfair. I knew from the start that Beckett Fucking Cole was off limits but I didn’t stop it. Hell, I would even go as far as to say I couldn’t stop my feelings for him from slowly kindling, then blooming into a full-blown fire, even knowing I was setting myself up for failure. To stand by, pretending to be his, all the while knowing I wouldn't ever be . . . it hurt. A physical pain that I could feel twisting my insides and traveling through my limbs every time I gave myself enough time to think about it.

  I took a big gulp of air, slowly letting it out again, and then placed another stem of baby’s breath strategically between some roses in the display I was working on. I needed a distraction, a big distraction, because I couldn't continue to dwell on Beckett and my feelings that seemed to be pulled into an orbit around him. I shoved another stem into place, probably with a little more force than needed. Whatever this was, it needed to stop between us.

  The shop phone rang and I intentionally ignored it; we were closed and I was only working late to finish up some arrangements for a wedding tomorrow. When the answering machine finally picked up and the caller hung up, it was a relief. The ring was getting annoying and I didn’t need more to be annoyed at that moment. Unfortunately, less than thirty seconds later, the rings started back up again.

  Fucking people. I walked to the desk and picked up the receiver, “Bishops Floral, this is Lotus how can I help you?”

  “Lotus baby, I knew you would still be working on the Patterson order.” My best friend told me.

  “Hey Myra, why didn’t you call my cell, you know I hate answering this phone.”

  “I did and it went straight to voicemail.” I removed my phone from my back pocket. Dead. I must have forgotten to charge it again.

  “Meh, it’s dead. Sorry.” I physically shrugged even though I knew she couldn’t see me.

  “It’s fine. Anyway, the boys at the shop are dragging Auggie out for some fun tonight. I already texted Ben and he’s in, so you’re definitely coming along. I don’t want any argument, either.”

  I thought about arguing, I really did. Then I remembered how I wanted a much-needed distraction to get my mind off Beckett Fucking Cole, and what was a better distraction than alcohol and dancing with friends? I reluctantly agreed, all the while promising myself that I would call Beckett before I went and let him know I’d be out.

  But when Myra showed up at the shop an hour later with her makeup bag, wardrobe choices, and overbearing enthusiasm, I didn’t think about Beckett once. Not one single moment did I devote to Beckett and the overwhelming thoughts he awakened in me. Instead, I got dressed in a cute little strapless gold number, fixed my hair and makeup and slipped on a pair of three inch black pumps, reminding myself that you only live once.

  With one last look back toward the shop, and the array of arrangements I spent my afternoon constructing, I then turned off the lights and stepped into Myra’s car, ready to start my night of forgetting and moving forward.

  When we arrived at Shocks, a popular club in the area, the boys were already waiting at a booth shoved back in the corner. Tyler, Ben, and Maverick, one of the guys from the tattoo parlor, looked like they were already a few beers deep into the fun. Auggie was nursing a beer, as usual; he never was a big drinker.

  “Are you planning on proposing to it?” I asked Auggie as I slid into the booth next to him. He raised an eyebrow in question and I used my chin to gesture to the beer that had gone lukewarm in his hands. He let out an amused snort and I leaned over to give him a kiss on his cheek. “How you doing?”

  “Not too bad. It’s good to see you, darlin’.” He drawled out affectionately as he squeezed one arm around my shoulder.

  “Therapy going good?” I asked him the moment my brother set down a martini he retrieved for me. I smiled and blew him a kiss, then turned my attention back to Auggie.

  “I’m walking, aren’t I?” he answered. I punched him in the arm.

  “Smartass. Don’t be such a stranger. You have been back in town for a few weeks now and we only hung out once. I miss your face.” I gave him a pouty look that never worked on him.

  He took a sip of his beer and scrunched his nose a bit, “Yeah well, I was just giving you and your boyfriend some space.”

  Boyfriend? Huh? “What boyfriend?”

  He shook his head like I was dumb as fuck. Knowing him, he probably thought that exact thing before he said, “Beckett. You know, the guy whose eyes damn near burned holes in me just for showing up.”

  “We aren’t dating.”

  “Does he know that?”

  “He made where we stand perfectly clear.”

  “Dumb motherfucker.” He whispered under h
is breath but I still was able to hear him.

  “I’m sorry, what was that?” I pretended like I didn’t hear.

  He reached up and fiddled with some dark strands of hair that had come loose from the messy bun he always pulled his hair into. “I know you heard me. Look, I don’t know the guy but if he hurts you, you’ll let me know, right?”

  I knew that Auggie would do anything for me or Myra. He didn't have many people in his life, and the ones he did have, he loved hard, and in return, once you got to know him, it was impossible not to love him equally as hard. It was the getting to know him part that was difficult because he was pretty quiet, and I think he would rather lurk in the background instead of taking center stage.

  “We aren’t dating.” Ben looked in my direction from where he was playing a drinking game with Maverick. Yeah, he was going to hate himself tomorrow. I lowered my voice so Ben wouldn’t know what we were talking about. “He’s been Bentley’s best friend since we were kids, even if either of us were interested, which we aren’t, he is totally off limits.”

  “You don’t have to be dating him for him to hurt you, darlin’.”

  Which I knew was true, but I wasn’t going to admit it to Auggie; his protective urge was strong. “Hey, let me get a few more of these in me and then we can dance. Up for it?”

  He knew I was changing the subject but let it slide. “A few dances won’t hurt. You aren’t driving tonight?”

  “Nope. I think Myra gets to take those boys home and I’ll catch a ride with you. It’s been a while since I’ve been in Betty. I’ve missed her.” Betty was Auggie’s 1971 Camaro in a dazzling refinished paint job of red, with two white stripes going down the middle of the car. I wouldn’t tell him that I thought it was dazzling because that isn't manly, but I swear when the sun hit it, there were specks of glitter in the paint.

  “You don’t miss Betty; you only miss the way she rumbles underneath you.” He laughed and I couldn’t deny that given the right circumstances, Betty could be quite enjoyable. The right circumstances were pretty much when I was drunk. I’m a horny drunk, what can I say?

  The rest of the evening was spent with me subtly drinking away all thoughts of Beckett and letting myself have fun. I danced, a lot. With Auggie, Maverick, the guy from the bar with red hair, pretty much with anyone who asked. I drank, not enough unfortunately to impair me completely, but I guess the most important thing was I had fun.

  It was a little after one when I climbed into Betty, completely satisfied that she never disappointed intoxicated me. “You good over there, darlin’? Need anything on the way home?”

  “I’m fine.” And I was. I had a great night of dancing and drinking and hanging with people I loved. When Auggie walked me to the door and kissed my cheek before heading back to his place, I couldn’t help but think that this night was perfect and not a single thing could ruin my happiness. I didn't need Beckett Fucking Cole and his incredibly expressive damn face to make me happy. I could be happy just fine by myself. Tonight, just proved it.

  I unlocked the door while thinking, ‘take that Beckett Fucking Cole, you don’t own me like your cocky bastard self probably thinks.’ I’m pretty sure I even chuckled to myself a little, right before turning the knob and opening the door to see Beckett standing in my entry with a look of pure rage.

  “Are you fucking kidding me!” he roared, loud enough for the whole complex to hear him. And as much as I wanted to be defiant and continue to prove that this man had no effect on me, the alcohol running through my system, combined with the side effects of Betty’s ride, was telling my body a completely different story. Furious Beckett, with his sandy hair skewed and his hazel eyes dark with anger, was so fucking hot, my desire took my breath away. Hell, I was in more trouble than I realized.

  Chapter 14

  BECKETT

  It was such a relief when Lotus went to work to help assemble some last-minute floral arrangements. I needed some space after that stunt she pulled with Stephanie. I couldn’t really blame her, it seemed effective. Stephanie left with an air of defeat around her and I could only hope she was finished with her pursuit of being the next Mrs. Cole.

  Mrs. Cole . . . ha, what a joke. Like that would ever happen with anyone. I almost tried it once, a lot of good that did me. I made a promise to myself that I would never again let that happen and fuck, I intended on keeping that promise if it was the last thing I did.

  After Lotus left for work, I spent a few hours catching up on some more manly Halloween shows. I had had too many happily ever after cartoons for the day and unless someone died a gore-filled death, I wouldn't be satisfied. It was almost nine o’clock when I realized Lotus still wasn’t home, which was unusual because she was home by eight at the latest, or she would text me. I wasn’t intentionally trying to be paranoid, Lord knows Alexa accused me of it often enough, but by nine o’clock, I had to call.

  Straight to voicemail.

  I called at nine fifteen.

  Straight to voicemail.

  Nine thirty.

  Straight to voicemail.

  Ten calls later, almost two hours after my first call and still, nothing.

  I wasn’t going to freak out. If being engaged to Alexa had taught me anything, it was that you couldn't assume the worst, even when Alexa nearly gutted me with her selfish actions, she always came home alive. Except that one time she didn’t. It was that one time that had me imagining Lotus’ body splayed across some random parking lot’s pavement, her blonde curls a bundle of matted rust colored tangles. I couldn't let myself think that way though, and I knew it. It was unreasonable to assume the worst was happening when, with the exception of Alexa, that so rarely was truly the case.

  By eleven thirty and still no answer, I called Myra . . . straight to voice mail. Then I tried Ben . . . straight to voicemail. What the fuck were they doing? I could only assume that since no one was answering, they were all together, right? What were the odds that neither of them would answer their phones if they weren’t? But, it was almost midnight, and what if Myra and Ben were just sleeping? That was a very real possibility.

  When twelve o’clock came around, I thought about going out and looking for her. I’d been this route many times before and I knew it was too early for me to try and call the police and file a report. Technically, she wasn't missing yet, according to them. I held back on searching though, because I promised myself I wouldn’t be in the position again where I found a girl I loved so inebriated that I was forced to pull three guys off her without her knowledge.

  Shit. Did I even love Lotus?

  In a family sort of way. She was like family, that’s why I cared so much. I didn't worry for the adult Lotus, who could do anything, including hang the moon. I worried for the blue eyed, pig tailed braids little girl who always had me open the pickle jar.

  I shouldn’t have been that scared about her tardiness and I knew it. Living with Alexa had prepared me for the worst in every possible situation. Completely incoherent from drugs? Been there. Coming home to her with another guy in our bed? Done that. Disappearing for days with no contact . . . lived it for at least a week, every fucking month.

  This with Lotus, I could handle this. I had it.

  But if I had it, then why did it feel like my chest was constricting and breathing hurt so much? I needed a drink, something to calm my nerves because I was out of control with worry. It was ridiculous because Lotus was nothing but a roommate to me. Walking to the fridge, I pulled it open and grabbed a beer from the back, trying not to notice how bad my fingers were trembling.

  Tipping my head back, I drained half the fucking bottle in three gulps, before reaching for a second bottle to take to the couch. I sat both bottles of beer on the coffee table and picked up the remote when my phone buzzed. Searching my pocket, I saw a text message from Myra.

  Relief surged through me as I unlocked my phone and opened the text window to a video. Disregarding the messages she sent directly after sending the video, I clicked play, re
gretting drinking the beer that was now churning violently in my stomach.

  The video was short, maybe fifteen seconds at the most, but I swear it was the longest fifteen seconds of my life. The room was dark, a definite club setting with the music beating so loud my phone vibrated from the sound. Lotus was on the dance floor in the fucking tiniest gold dress I’d ever seen, and a set of black heels that screamed and begged to be fucked in. But it wasn’t her dress or her heels that had my vision blurring with rage and my breath growing erratic. It was the fact that she was dancing with Gus, so fucking close that a piece of paper wouldn’t squeeze between them. Her ass was snug up against his groin, his hand resting on her lower stomach, his fingers an inch away from the bottom of her dress. Her arm was stretched behind her to wrap around his neck, and I wanted to fucking slit his throat for touching her like he owned her. I watched it three times before reading the text messages that followed the video.

  They might as well just fuck already.

  Shit. That video was to Ben, not you. Sorry Beck.

  As if a ‘sorry Beck’ was going to fix the acid coursing through my stomach or the fury that was consuming my mind. I didn't know what was worse, the fact that I stayed up worried about her, all the while she was out, practically fucking the bastard on the dance floor, or that I promised myself I wouldn’t care this much about another woman again. Yet here I was, damn near hyperventilating with anger.

  I tried to remind myself that this was different; I didn't love Lotus like I loved Alexa. Family love is a different type of love than the instant soul mate love I had the moment I saw Alexa. I wasn't capable of that type of love again; I couldn’t handle the letdown. But the longer I stayed there, stewing on my anger and drinking beer, the more I felt like I could smash everything in sight and still not be satisfied.

  I had just got up to grab another beer when I first heard it. The unmistakably loud engine that tore through the parking lot was so obnoxious, it added fuel to my already precarious temperament. I walked to the window and peeked out, ready to get a look at the asshole who apparently couldn't be bothered with a tune up, when I spotted Lotus getting out of an old Camaro, the fucking prick, Gus, right on her heels.