Beautiful Dark

by Jordyn White

  Now I remember why I wanted to stick with texting.

  “When I came back the second time, I was determined to get it over with. I’ve seen girls pick up guys before, so I had an idea of how it was done, but I’d never really tried to do that for sex before. It turns out it’s shockingly easy.”

  I laugh, feeling a little nervous myself. I’m not sure if it’s better, or worse, that her first time was with someone who didn’t really matter much. “Yeah. Guys are cads.”

  She laughs. “I think it’s just easier for a woman to seduce a man than the other way around.”

  Oh, I’m sure I could seduce the fuck out of you, if I had a mind. Then I remind myself there will be no seducing or anything like it.

  “So you successfully seduced someone, huh?”

  “Yeah, his name was Tony. I met him at a party my roommate invited me to. He was like, three years younger than me. But he had the necessary equipment, so I didn’t care.”

  “Uh huh.” I officially hate Tony. In case you were wondering.

  “I didn’t tell him I was a virgin, but I think he may have figured it out. I’m not sure I did it right.”

  “I’m sure you did fine.”

  “I think I got better as we went though.”

  Okay, maybe I don’t really want to know all this. But I still ask, “There was more with him?”

  “Yeah, a few more. But, I didn’t really like him that much. I just wanted to be able to have sex, you know?”

  “Yeah, I get it.” And I do, even though I don’t like it.

  “So we kind of stopped and that was that.”

  I’m nodding my head, wondering just how badly I want to know if there’s been anyone else. Someone who mattered to her.

  “Wow,” she says. “My cheeks are totally burning up over here. I can’t believe I just told you all that.”

  “You started it.”

  “Yeah, I think we need to be done now,” she says laughing.

  “But I have one more.”

  “It’s not your turn.”

  “Have you been with anyone since then?”

  There’s a heavy pause, then, “No.”

  I’m holding the phone to my ear, my other hand tapping the table in an agitated way.

  “My turn,” she says.

  “I thought we were done.”

  “Yeah, well, I still can’t believe I told you all that. I need to know something juicy about you now.”

  “Do you want me to tell you about my many sexual conquests? That would make things even.”

  “God, no. Thanks, anyway. Well... maybe. Have you been with many girls?”

  “A fair few. Never ask someone their number.”

  “I wasn’t going to. Anybody special?”

  “A couple have lasted a little while, I guess, but nothing’s ever been that serious. Not that I would’ve minded. I guess I just haven’t found the right girl yet.”

  “Hmmm,” she says, and it sounds like a smile. “So no girlfriend. No Mrs. Right. What about a fuck buddy?”

  I straighten and pull the phone away to gape at it. I put it back to my ear. “Say what?”

  “I make no judgments about people with fuck buddies. Do you have one?”

  “Not like that. No.”

  “What does that mean?”

  I give her an exaggerated sigh. “You. Are. Naughty.”

  She laughs, seemingly delighted. “Come on. We’re friends. You can tell me.”

  I groan, rubbing my fingers on my forehead. “I have a sort of friend I’ve been with a few times, but it just kind of happened. We don’t give each other booty calls or anything.”

  There’s another pause. In fact, this pause is so long, it makes me nervous. Why are we even having this kind of conversation? “Did we cross a line?” I ask, seriously.

  “Oh, no, sorry,” she says. “I was just thinking of the guys I know and wondering which ones could be a fuck buddy.”

  My eyes widen and my heart starts pounding. The thought of her getting a fuck buddy... in the here and now... not in the past... it’s even worse. Calm down, asshole. She’s not your girlfriend. Who she sleeps with is her business.

  That. Did not. Help.

  My head slowly drops, my hand running along the back of my head. I grab a handful of hair and squeeze. “Are you trying to torment me?”

  “Why would this be tormenting you?” she asks, too innocently.

  Oh, she’s so fucking naughty. “It doesn’t. Did you identify any potential candidates?”

  “Maybe. How does one go about coordinating a fuck buddy?”

  “Yeah, I am so not helping you with that.” My boss calls for me from the garage and I straighten. “Listen, I gotta get back to work. My fifteen minute break’s lasted something like five hours thanks to you.”

  “Okay.”

  “This was the worst game ever.”

  She laughs. “Now we’re even.”

  Chapter 12

  Corrine

  Do you know what I hate about New Year’s Eve? The midnight kiss.

  You know the one. There’s the big countdown, and then everybody gets to kiss the person they’re with. It’s one of those moments that will make you feel weird about not having someone to kiss even if you don’t care the other 364 days of the year. This year it’s even worse. I’m already dreading that stupid kissing tradition and it’s only 10 o’clock.

  Maybe it’s worse because I’m watching Connor and Whitney over there, dancing so slow and sexy it’s like watching them make love right there on the dance floor. Or maybe it’s because Lizzy and Brett can’t stop making googly eyes at one another.

  Even Rayce is making me jealous, despite the fact that his date is just some stuck up woman he’s not even that into. I don’t know if she’s here to be his trophy date, or if he’s here to be hers. She’s definitely a “climbing the social ladder” kind of woman, and as much as I hate to admit it Rayce cares enough about image to pay attention to the kind of person he’s bringing to these events, too.

  I’m kind of ashamed of myself for my attitude. This is the resort’s big New Year’s Eve bash that’s been a Swan Pointe institution for the last decade. They didn’t do one last year, because it was too soon after Aunt Sharon and Uncle Grant died. The fact that there was no ball was so noteworthy it made the papers. I’m not talking about the stupid little gossip column either. I’m talking about serious news.

  This year, my cousins got the genius idea to make it a masquerade ball. They wanted to carry on with the tradition, but do it differently. Since this is an event that’s meant to be a way for the resort to give back to the city—it’s free and open to the public—they turned one small conference room into a masquerade mask shop, where people who didn’t bring their own can pick one out for free.

  The entire west wing of the second floor has been transformed into a Mardi Gras wonderland, from the grand ballroom, to the hallways, to the four other smaller ballrooms that have been put into use. Every wall was first covered with sheer, draped fabric, behind which are purple twinkle lights. That allowed the overhead lights to be turned off throughout, except for the lights behind the arched, stained glass ceiling in the Grand Ballroom, which are dimmed low to delicately illuminate the beautiful feature. The ceilings in the other ballrooms have been draped with fabric and lights, which peak at the center.

  There’s a wooden dance floor in the center of each room, and the edges are dotted with food tables, champagne fountains, mini wet bars, and tables for socializing. On the tables, tall, thin glass vases explode at the top with flowers, massive feathers, and mini masquerade masks. For food, there’s everything from bacon-wrapped dates and prime rib crostini, to New Orleans-inspired dishes like creole crab cakes and duck gumbo. There’s no shortage of sweets either, from classic beignets to delicate mini tarts to the cupcake trees with little masquerade masks piped on top of each one. And those are just to tide us over until the actual cakes are cut, according to the post-midnight tradition. Each bal
lroom has a massive tiered cake decorated with traditional Mardi Gras colors and diamond harlequin checks.

  In short. It’s a stunning affair. There’s food everywhere, alcohol everywhere, people everywhere, and it is, I have to say, the best New Year’s Ball this town has ever seen.

  I’ve told Mason all about it, of course. As a result, he’s requested pictures. Lots of them. Including one with me in my gown. It’s a gorgeous purple and black dress with wild embellishments on the bodice, and a lavish layered skirt that’s short in the front and full-length in the back. I’ve completed the look with a matching Venetian feathered mask. The entire ensemble is incredible and, without question, the most extravagant purchase I’ve made since receiving my inheritance.

  Several minutes ago I had Lizzy take a picture of me in the Grand Ballroom. I sent it off to Mason, who replied with a, Wow, Gorgeous.

  That made me happy, I’m not gonna lie. But other than our virginity slash fuck buddy conversation, we haven’t said or done anything that’s felt remotely like flirting. Or crossing any lines. Which is all well and good and blah, blah, blah, but I’m so not freaking happy about it. I’m miserable. Because I’m tired of him being there when I want him to be here.

  And I’m tired of feeling like I’m sneaking around when I don’t even get the good part of sneaking around. Do I get little secret kisses out of the deal? No, I do not. In fact, I’ll probably never get to kiss that guy. Because there’s no us... there’s just... I don’t even know what we are.

  I’m wishing now I had brought a date. Then at least I would have had somebody to kiss at midnight. I could add ‘Kiss at midnight on New Year’s Eve’ to my bucket list and then scratch it right back off again.

  But the thought of kissing somebody besides Mason makes my stomach turn. This whole thing sucks. I can’t have him, but I don’t want anyone else either. How did this even happen?

  Near my right hip, there’s a clever little pocket stitched under the skirt layers that’s just big enough for my phone. It vibrates, so I pull it out to see that I have a text from Mason: Where are my other pictures?

  He wants shots of me in each one of the ballrooms, but I wasn’t going to drag Lizzy around to every room when she should be off enjoying herself and her fiancé. From my position near the champagne fountain, I can see them dancing now, her arms snug around his waist, smiling up at him so radiantly, him looking at her so lovingly.

  It’s not that I’m jealous, but I’m so damned jealous. Maybe I’m not able to do the long-term relationship thing, but can’t I at least have moments like that?

  I drain my champagne flute and set it down.

  Me: Lizzy’s busy. I’m telling you, there really are three other ballrooms.

  Mason: No, I’m not sure I believe you. Plus you said you would deliver proof. You said I would get a picture of you in your dress in every ballroom. And I’m waiting.

  I smile, letting him lift my spirits.

  Me: So demanding.

  Maybe I just need to go find a quiet corner somewhere so I can call him. Maybe hearing his voice will help me feel better, then I can get on with the party like a normal person instead of a pouty, little child.

  Mason: You can just take a selfie, you know. You don’t need Lizzy.

  Me: Fine. Have it your way.

  I start to make my way through the crowd, and head for one of the exits.

  Mason: Which one are you going to first? The starburst one?

  Starlight, I correct him, even though I know he’s been repeatedly mixing up the names on purpose.

  Mason: Right, of course. Maybe the Meth Rose one.

  Me: Crystal Rose. Stop being so ornery or you won’t get your pictures.

  Mason: Sorry. I’ll behave.

  The hall is less crowded, but there are still people mingling around or hanging out in the sitting areas. The Starlight Room is, in fact, closest, so I go through the double doors, which have been propped open and are hidden by festive displays that look like they could have come off a Mardi Gras float.

  This is one of the smaller ballrooms, but is still good sized and just as packed as the Grand Ballroom was. I glance around, looking for a spot that would give me a pretty backdrop and maybe some decent lighting in the otherwise darkened room.

  Something in the middle of the dance floor catches my eye. My heart stops.

  It’s a man wearing a fine black suit and a swirling golden mask. He has broad shoulders, a broad chest, and he’s looking right at me. He’s too far away for me to know for sure, but I’d bet my entire inheritance that this man has deep, chocolate brown eyes.

  My lips part, and I take a few steps in his direction. Then I’m certain. I’m so stunned, I actually stop. My arms are hanging loosely at my side and my mouth is hanging open, all while he’s walking toward me with a devious grin on his face.

  “You’re here,” I breathe, as he comes up to me. Good lord, my memory did not do justice to Mason’s good looks.

  He takes my hand, puts his other on my waist, and starts to dance. My whole body starts to hum. I’m still gaping at him. “I couldn’t miss a party like this.”

  I slowly smile. “You’re here,” I say again.

  He smiles too and taps his mask with one finger. “Yeah, but you weren’t supposed to recognize me.”

  My insides start to dance with the realization that he’s here. “You’re kidding right? Who else in this room looks like Adonis?”

  My forearm is resting against his chest, so when Mason laughs, it vibrates in my arm and reverberates through my entire body.

  I forgot what it’s like to be in his presence. I’m struck by it, just as I was on Thanksgiving Day. But it’s even worse now, because now I know him. Now I’m comfortable with him. It would be so easy to close the tiny gap between us, press myself against him, rest my head on his chest, and let him wrap his strong arms around me.

  It’s all I can do not to do it. Can’t I, though? If I’m going to have moments with anyone, why can’t they be with Mason?

  I suddenly remember where we are and glance over my shoulder toward the door.

  “You said you guys always hang out in the main ballroom, right?”

  I look back at him and smile. “That’s true.”

  “Anyway, I’m in disguise.” He smiles and tightens his hold on me until we’re just touching. Damn, this guy is hard everywhere. Well, I don’t know if he’s hard everywhere, cuz I’m not exactly grinding myself against him, not that I don’t want to. But his chest and his arms and shoulders are so firm, I have to stop myself from running my hands all over him.

  “I’m glad you’re here.” I say, smiling.

  “Me too.”

  “I’m not sure what I’m going to tell my date, though.”

  His face falls. “What?”

  I laugh, giving him a shrewd look. “Kidding.”

  “You. Are. Naughty,” he says, those brown eyes drawing me in.

  I could be, I think.

  I would’ve been happy just getting out of here with him so we can talk without any worries about getting caught, but Mason said he didn’t want to take me away from the biggest party of the year. Over the course of the next hour, we hop from room to room, dancing, eating, drinking, talking, and laughing. And the time flies.

  I keep a careful eye on it too, because I’m sure to go back into the Grand Ballroom periodically to touch base with my cousins, just so they don’t miss me and decide to come looking for me. I don’t tell anyone Mason’s here, not even Lizzy. I don’t want to take any chances. Rayce definitely doesn’t need to know about this, not yet. Maybe not at all. I don’t know. I don’t know what’s happening or where this is going, I’m just so happy he’s here.

  He tells me he had to come back to check on the house anyway, and figured he may as well come when he could see the famous party for himself. I don’t know if he doesn’t want me to make too much of it or what, but in spite of what he says, I’m not blind. I see the way he’s looking at me.

&nb
sp; Thirty minutes to midnight, I come back from the latest touch base with my cousins, and meet Mason on the grand balcony. It’s massive enough to seat 200 for events, plus another 400 in the room it’s connected to. For tonight’s event, the balcony has been given a lighter touch in the decorating department than the ballrooms. A few purple twinkle lights in the potted trees, and a modest arrangement of tables and seating groups to allow for good flow of people. It’s such a pretty space, it’s all that was needed.

  It’s a touch chilly out here, being the end of December and late at night, so there aren’t a lot of people out here anyway. I didn’t plan on being outside, so my dress doesn’t have a wrap and my coat’s in the coat room. I won’t want to stay long, but I wanted Mason to see the view.

  He’s been waiting for me at the center of the railing, and watches as I approach. As much as I’ve enjoyed the elegance of seeing him in his mask, and being in mine, I’m ready to see his whole face. Just him. “Everything good in there?” he asks.

  “Yes. What do you think?” I nod in the direction of the ocean.

  “Lovely.” He keeps his eyes on me until I come next to him. I smile, feeling the heat rush to my cheeks. I put my elbows on the thick, stone railing, and together we look out at the broad ocean laid out before us. The resort is up on a ridge, right on the coast. It’s a clear night, so the blue light of the nearly-full moon glitters on the water, far out in the distance.

  “I’d never seen the ocean until I came here last month. Well, I probably did as a kid, but I don’t remember it.”

  “Really? Did you get any beach time?”

  “A little. It was too cold to go in.”

  “Yeah. Even in the summer, the water’s a little nippy.” I cup my hands around my upper arms, starting to feel the chill in the air. The front of my skirt only goes half-way down my thighs, so my legs are getting chilly too. At least my heels don’t have open toes.

  “I think I could live on the beach and just stare at the water all day.” There’s a wistful tone in his voice that draws my eyes to him.

  Just live here then, I think. What I say is, “Maybe you can get some more beach time while you’re here.” I know he’s here for a couple of days before he has to get back to work, but we haven’t talked about what that means. I’m assuming, hoping, that I’ll get to spend time with him, but he hasn’t said.