by Kira Blakely
So, that fateful evening, it was Nell’s idea. She convinced me I should ask him out. That it was uncharacteristic of me to keep waiting for a man to make the first move. I agreed, on the promise that she wouldn’t tell anyone else about it.
So, I put on a dress. I still remembered that dress. A new red-sequined cocktail dress. I did up my hair so that it fell in curling waves around my shoulders. I tried to ignore the way the dress rode up my legs and slipped into sky-high red stilettos, too.
I knew where to find him. Where Nash and his buddies always hung out. Pete’s Pub, just off campus. When I walked in, I was immediately reminded of why I stayed out of places like those. Noisy, filled with drunk college students acting irresponsibly, loud music and the smell of pot wafting in from the restrooms. But I had decided not to chicken out. I was going to find him, I was going to ask him out on a date if that was the last thing I did.
I spotted Nash at the bar, and my heart started beating fast. I still remembered that feeling because I’d felt it yesterday when I opened the door of my apartment and found him standing on the other side. It was a dizzying feeling, even though I was only staring at the back of his perfect dark head.
As I weaved through the crowd, getting closer to this guy I had obsessed over since the beginning of college, I could now see more clearly what he was doing.
Nash Preston had his hand right up Melissa Meyer’s skirt. Yes. I saw that happening.
Melissa Meyer was the head of the cheerleading squad and a girl who Nash had allegedly broken up with at least four times in the past two years. And yet there she was, perched on a bar stool next to him, and he had his hand up her skirt. Melissa’s hands were pressed down on her lap, telling me that she was enjoying herself. That Nash wasn’t just touching her thigh. Her eyes were pressed shut, and she was biting down on her bottom lip.
The dim lighting in the pub, the large throngs of people pressing down around me, might have hidden them from other people’s sight, but not mine. It was plain as day what was going on. And they weren’t trying to hide it either.
I glanced from Melissa’s pleasured face to Nash’s amused smile. It disgusted me. I was going to throw up. I couldn’t believe that I thought I was in love with this despicable man.
That image had scorched itself in my brain. I could never get it out. Every time, after that, when I thought I couldn’t bear to keep my feelings for Nash in check, I recalled that image. Of Nash’s hands shaking vigorously under Melissa’s skirt, her closed eyes. I had seen something that I should never have seen in the first place. But at least it helped me get over him. Or so I thought.
And now that image was confused with the kiss we’d shared. Or rather the kiss he’d forced on me.
“You know, maybe you were just still drunk,” Nell interrupted my thoughts.
We were sitting in the drive-through parking lot, munching on our greasy burgers and fries.
“You mean from last night?” I asked, sipping noisily on my milkshake.
“Yeah, like maybe you were still drunk from last night and you didn’t know what you were doing,” Nell said, scrunching up the tissue paper that the burger was wrapped in.
“I wasn’t drunk, Nell. I was of completely sound mind,” I said, gulping the milkshake down. There was no excuse for what had happened, as much as Nell attempted to make me feel better about it.
“It was just a kiss anyway,” Nell added and I jerked my head to look at her.
“A kiss like that? He touched me,” I said and a smile formed on her face. I knew what she was thinking.
“But you enjoyed it,” she was quick to say.
“Of course, I did. But that isn’t the point. What is his game?” I said in a louder voice. I didn’t want to talk about how much I had enjoyed it.
“His game? Nash Preston is known to just do what he wants. He wanted to kiss you, so he did,” Nell continued matter-of-factly, and she did have a point.
“So, am I just supposed to forget it? He seemed to have just forgotten it the moment it ended,” I said, raising my hands up quizzically in the air.
Nell shrugged. “As long as you enjoyed the kiss, and as long as you’re doing what you want to do, why does it matter?” she said, but I wasn’t satisfied. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for here.
“I mean, you haven’t had sex in a while, Bonnie. Take what comes to you. Especially if it’s Nash Preston. I know I would,” she added, wiping her greasy hands on her jeans.
I scrunched my nose and pretended to gag. At least there was some comic relief, but it only lasted a few moments. I couldn’t think straight.
“I don’t want to complicate things,” I said after some silence. Nell was nodding her head as she gazed out in the dark, into the empty parking lot.
“I know what you mean. I remember the crush you had on him in college. Do you still feel that way?” she asked, in all seriousness. My first instinct was to vigorously shake my head, but I wasn’t sure if I could lie very smoothly to Nell. She would see right through me.
I shrugged my shoulders instead, I didn’t actually want to say the words. The truth was that I didn’t know what I was feeling myself. Whether this was just a resurgence of a crush, whether it was just a jumble of emotions because he had bought my company…
“Either way, right now, all I want to do is piss that Seraphine James off,” I said and we both were laughing again. There was some truth to that. She had thrown me a little, with her appearance so soon after our kiss. And you could say that I had partly even agreed to the date the next night because I wanted to trump her.
But had she not been there, would I have said yes anyway? Despite the scene from the bar with Melissa, was I strong enough to reject Nash?
“What are you thinking?” Nell asked, and I licked my lips. I’d never told her about that night, just that I had changed my mind and that Nash Preston wasn’t worth my time.
“Just that this could end in disaster for me. And being with him goes against every shred of belief I hold dear,” I replied, in a quiet calm voice. Who was I kidding? Being with him? Knowing Nash, he might not even remember to pick me up the next night.
Chapter 10
Nash
I was sitting with my right ankle on my left knee, and my foot was tapping the floor. There was a huge guided mirror in my father’s home office, and I kept looking up at it. My father was a stickler for appropriate clothing, so I was continuously making sure that my tie was in place, that my hair didn’t look messy.
Other than that, only Bonnie Calhoun was on my mind.
Bonnie Calhoun, the one who got away.
In college, she was the demure-looking blonde who had an inner fiery redhead. Long legs, waist-length golden hair, big shapely breasts that she hid under conservative blouses and plaid shirts. She was a worthy contender in class, and a vocal opponent outside. It was plain to see that she detested me, and my friends. She’d turn her nose up if I passed her in the halls. In class, she would make a big show of ignoring my presence in the back seats. And not once did she attend a single game.
Bonnie and her friends never came to Pete’s Pub. And the only time I ever saw her socially was at some classmate’s house party when she remained in the corner, gingerly sipping soda from a glass and pretending to not have fun. When she thought nobody was looking, I caught her slowly swaying to the music.
Bonnie Calhoun was a delight to look at and an even bigger delight to compete with in class. She was right; we were never actually friends. But then, who really is in college?
Throughout our years together, she was always in the back of my mind. Every time I fucked a girl, I imagined Bonnie under me when I came. If I ever spent a night alone, I jerked off to her, picturing her bouncing breasts as she ran to catch the bus. She was my ideal woman. The woman I knew I should never touch or bang, because I was so afraid of proving myself wrong. I would never be able to live up to her expectations. I would never be good enough for her. I was set in my ways, and the best thing to do
would be to leave Bonnie Calhoun alone.
I remember that red dress though. The one she was wearing when she walked into Pete’s Pub that night, toward the end of college. I remember it because I had been fooling around with Melissa Meyers, and I knew my fingers still smelled of her. Melissa liked doing things like that, kinky things out in the public. She got some kind of thrill out of it. And I was only too willing to comply. I hadn’t expected to see Bonnie there that night though, not in my natural habitat.
But she was walking away from me. I had always wondered if she saw me with Melissa, if she had caught us in the act. Because Bonnie was weaving through the crowds of people in the pub, like she was trying to get away. For some reason, I decided to follow her. Something in me had snapped that night when I saw her. She looked troubled, lost, confused. I didn’t want to compete anymore, I wanted to throw in the towel in that moment. Confess my feelings for her. I was going to follow her. I wanted to talk to her. Ask her why she had put on that shimmering red dress that made her blue eyes dance.
As I tried to catch up with her, push through the crowds, I could hear Melissa calling out to me, stunned. But I had eyes only for Bonnie, who was fast disappearing out of view. I had an incredible urge to spill all, to confess everything, and tell her how I felt.
But she was getting away. She had burst through the pub doors way ahead of me, and when I finally got out, I could hear her heels clicking on the pavement as she continued to run. And good sense started to finally fill my brain. What was I doing chasing Bonnie Calhoun?
It had been a moment of weakness, and if I had a chance to confess my feelings for her, I would have ruined everything. I would have made it impossible for her to remain my ideal woman. To have her on a pedestal. And I was sure she would have rejected me anyway.
But now I had my chance again. Had I picked her company to buy because I saw her name on the list of partners? I told myself it was pure luck. That chance had brought us together again, but now I was older and I didn’t want to lose my opportunity again.
I knew now that there was no such thing as an ideal woman and that I would be stupid to miss an opportunity to fuck her.
“Hello there, son,” my father boomed in his deep throaty as he walked into the room, and I instinctively stood up, fixing my suit jacket.
Father looked like he was headed to a meeting with world leaders, even though he was retired now and not expected to do anything besides play golf and attend charity events. Sharply dressed in a three-piece suit, with a red handkerchief sticking out of his breast pocket, he walked over to me with long confident steps. We shook hands. He had never been much of a hugger.
“Good to see you, Father,” I said, clearing my throat. He had sort of caught me off guard, dreaming about Bonnie.
Father walked away from me and sat down behind his desk, like he was getting ready to conduct a business meeting. That familiar feeling of nervousness crept up every time I was around him. I was always anxious to please him, but not today.
“I hear that the deal went well?” he asked, unbuttoning his suit jacket.
I took the chair across from his desk and sat down, nodding. I knew he liked to keep himself informed, but I wasn’t sure how in depth his questioning was going to be. I wasn’t in the mood to make conversation.
“It did indeed. They agreed to the offer,” I said with a smile, and Father guffawed.
“Of course they did. What other choice did they have?”
I felt the back of my neck heat. I could picture Bonnie’s disappointed eyes, how hurt she was when she signed the papers.
“And I heard that one of the partners is an old college friend of yours?” Father asked, keeping his clear gray eyes trained on me. I wasn’t sure what he was trying to figure out, but I could see that he was making some assumptions.
“Yes, she is. A classmate,” I answered, shifting in my seat. His steady unwavering gaze was making me uncomfortable.
There was a strange pause in the room, while he continued to stare at me. I tried to avoid his gaze, rage building up inside me. This man had forced me to take over his company and now he was trying to run it from the comforts of his own home. I wanted to stand up and leave. But I had never done anything like that before, and I wasn’t sure what his reaction was going to be.
“I’m glad to see that things are going so well, Nash,” he said, suddenly breaking the silence. He was smiling at me proudly. I gulped, trying to push my anger with him back down my throat.
“Will you be attending the May Fair tonight?” I asked, standing up. I wanted to get out of there. I didn’t want his patronizing approval anymore. I was the one who was running the company, and there was no need for me to report to him any longer.
Father looked up at me and shrugged. “I don’t need to anymore. But maybe I will.”
“I’m bringing Bonnie Calhoun as a date. My college friend whose company we just bought,” I said, buttoning up my jacket again.
Surprise flickered in his eyes. He didn’t think I should be getting involved with her. He was going to say something, but I interrupted him.
“Have a good day, Father. I’ll see you at the ball,” I said and walked out of his office without waiting for a response. I’d had enough of him and his assumption that he could treat me like a puppet. I couldn’t believe how weak I had been all my life, seeking his approval. Some things were going to change around here, starting with my relationship with my father.
Chapter 11
Bonnie
Nash had mentioned that it was a charity gala, which meant that I had to dress appropriately. I had never attended one of these before; consequently, I again had nothing to wear.
On the bright side, I didn’t have an office to go to anymore either, so I could scour the stores for something to wear.
“Think elaborate, show-stopping, sexy,” Nell had said over the phone that morning. I wasn’t sure what any of those words meant, but I was going to take her word for it. Not like Nell knew what she was talking about. How many billionaires-only charity galas had she attended in her lifetime?
Eventually, I bought something that fit my budget and looked remotely decent and I returned home to have a long relaxing bath. I felt like I deserved it for the rollercoaster of emotions I was going to experience that night. It was a given.
Well-bathed, appropriately relaxed… I began getting dressed.
Finally, I stood in front of my mirror, not entirely sure if this classified as being over or under dressed. All I knew was that I was about to fall short somehow.
I’d picked out a burgundy off-shoulder gown, with a mermaid-cut skirt that fell delicately down my hips. It had no embellishments, nothing too fancy, other than that it had a slit down the side so that my left leg was revealed every time I took a step. I kept my hair tied up, in a tight bun with the locks neatly pinned up away from my face. My only accessory was the gold earrings that had once belonged to my mother.
For makeup, I kept it simple; a dark burgundy lipstick to match the dress, and a more neutral look for the rest of my face. I didn’t want to appear over-eager. And now I was worried that Nash was going to regret inviting me to this thing. That was, if he turned up in the first place.
He hadn’t given me a time, and I was ready by seven, sitting on my bed, waiting for a honk downstairs or the ring of the doorbell. He knew where I lived; he had turned up here a few days ago. But the question was whether he had changed his mind.
My phone buzzed beside me and I picked it up, noticing that my fingers were quivering a little now. It was a text message from an unknown number.
Be there in five. Come down, it said, and my heart raced out of control.
I sucked in my gut, smoothened my hair and gave myself the once over. There was nothing left to do but to take the plunge. This was happening. I was going to see Nash again.
****
Nash stepped out of the car when I walked down the steps in front of my apartment, walking carefully in my heels. I was so afrai
d of falling over and making a scene. But I lost all concentration when I set my eyes on him.
Nash was standing with his hand on the door of a car so expensive I didn’t recognize the make, holding it open, and he looked more dashing than ever, if that was even possible.
In a black tuxedo and crystal cufflinks, the man looked like a million dollars. His hair was neat and styled to the side, adding a softness to his face. His eyes were a clear mysterious gray. His face looked sharp, like he was cut out of marble. He seemed even taller today for some reason, and I craned my neck up at him as I approached.
“I wasn’t sure if you were going to change your mind,” he said, and I nearly melted. That was what I had been thinking about him! But I wasn’t just going to say that.
“I’m a woman of my word,” I said, realizing that my cheeks were flushed.
“You look hot as hell,” Nash said.
I lost my voice. I intended to return the compliment but I couldn’t. The words were stuck in my throat. If I told him the truth about his good looks, everything else might come tumbling out. So, I only threw him a weak smile and stepped into the car.
The chauffeur in the front seat wished me a good evening and then a few seconds later, Nash was in the car with me. Sitting beside me. Our legs were almost touching.
His distinctive scent filled the space, and I breathed him in, wondering if I’d ever smelled anything so sensual. I wondered if I could just throw myself at him, force him to kiss me. But Nash was looking at his phone, checking something with his brows furrowed. The car started and my heart nearly collapsed from over-exertion. This was another dream come true. We were going on an actual date. The kind of evening I’d imagined in my college years, but knew would never happen. Because I wasn’t the kind of girl he was in to.
“We’re raising funds for Breast Cancer awareness. My family has been involved in the cause for the past fifteen years, since my mother passed,” Nash said, looking up at me.
“Your mother had breast cancer?” I blurted and immediately regretted it.