“On that note, you’re going to bed.” Spence stood, saving himself holding out his hand. At my pout, he added, “And I’m coming with you.”
I perked up, gave him as big of a smile as I could, and said, “Does that mean you want to get busy?”
Spence’s exhale became caught between his lips, something between a laugh and a oh, hell no. He recovered nicely when he said, “I want to make sure you have nothing but sweet dreams tonight. And I’ll be right here with you if any nightmares come.”
I took his proffered hand. Spence’s scarred, steady, storied hand. “Have I told you lately that I love you?”
Spence’s eyes hooded. “Tell me again.”
I kissed him. Carefully. “I love you.”
“Again.”
“Spence, I love you.”
“Yeah,” he said, and in the low light, I picked up on the wicked gleam. “I’ll never get tired of hearing your voice and those words at the same time.”
I had the suspicion that my words were more coming out I lub you.
“I hate you.”
Chuckling, he pulled me into the bedroom, and we shut the door. The softness of our kiss, one that harbored a secret unburdened, is what followed me into sleep, with rays of dawn rising over our bodies.
I did it.
Finally, all my work could be summed up in a thirty-page, photo heavy, research driven purple portfolio. Sitting at my desk, nose nicely healed and airways all the way open, I laid both palms on top of it and sighed my thanks. It had taken me a final two weeks and Jade’s assistance with the Powerpoint to really lay it out, and as a last touch, Becca’s final opinions and approval. I’d also given it to Spence—nervously—for his thoughts, and while a black and white carousel theme wasn’t exactly his idea of his own super-cool birthday party, seeing his lips curve over the laptop as he scrolled through was better than any A+.
While the go-ahead from Ming was of the utmost importance, it felt good to have my friends and boyfriend behind me. Yes, boyfriend. They were individuals who wouldn’t lie to make me feel better, or fake enthusiasm so as not to hurt my feelings. If Becca hated it, she’d say so. If Spence thought it could be improved upon, he’d lay a supportive arm across my shoulders and explain how much I sucked before seducing me and making me forget he’d ever insulted my creativity in the first place. Not to say they kept their mouths shut—my first few drafts these last couple of weeks went through exactly that, except Becca made sure to ply me with wine first and Spence ensured I was exhausted from major sexual foreplay.
Yet, they were right. Nothing comes out perfectly the first time, and spraying blow-up unicorns with ultraviolet neon paint wasn’t the most creative I could offer.
I went to bed that night at a reasonable hour for the first time in weeks, and not simply because I’d completed my first proposal as a semi-official event planner. Or maybe event opinionator. In any event, I had something to give Ming, a theme I was proud of, and that felt like the success of excellence.
More importantly, Spence assisted me in filing a report to the university regarding Ed Carver. I didn’t like to dwell on it too much—not when there was so much positivity in my life to look forward to—but it also couldn’t be ignored. Ed’s approaches might have started out as mild, but they were escalating. However, his actions weren’t enough for a temporary restraining order, and I’d never seen Spence rein in his frustration with such whip-like speed. He knew the law better than anyone around me, and even he couldn’t argue the point that what Ed was doing wasn’t to the point of police intervention. Stalking laws, as wonderful as it was to have them in place, were already antiquated with the advent of social media and the open access to victims where all one needed was a basic grasp of technology. Essentially, I wasn’t attacked or harassed enough, so there was nothing that could be done from a legal standpoint.
Ed hadn’t appeared since that rainy night. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’d dropped out of college and moved. He didn’t show up to Harper’s classes, if he was even a student of Harper’s, and if he was lurking in the hallways around me, he was a ghost. I hoped Spence hadn’t confronted or threatened Ed without my knowledge, because while I wanted Spence’s help, I didn’t want that kind. It could only lead to worse outcomes.
Regardless, in the last month, with each day that went by with no Ed sightings, a delicate shawl of safety laid itself across my shoulders—one that could be ripped away by the wind at any moment, yes, but for now it was there. I kept close to Becca and Jade when we were out and spent most of my nights at Spence’s, or Spence at mine. If Ed was going to attempt anything, he’d have to get through three very protective zombie hunters first.
Morning came quickly, bright, golden light beaming through the cracks in the blinds. I woke up minutes before my alarm and leapt out of bed, eager to meet Ming at the coffee shop and hand over my Precious. I showered, dressed in black denim and a loose chambray shirt, blew dry my hair, and after a light makeup application, I was out the door before Becca or Jade even stirred.
I wanted to get to the cafe early and go over any last improvements before Ming got there. What I did not anticipate was Ming sitting inside the window as I rounded the corner.
“Fuck,” I said, and as she caught my eye and fluttered her fingers in a wave, I hoped she couldn’t read lips.
“Ming,” I said when I entered and approached her. She was in basic black slacks and a white men’s workshirt, buttons open to a deep V that revealed a stack of silver, gold, and rose gold necklaces. She also sported a black top-hat, that while tragically hipster on me, she could pass off as hidden celebrity. “I didn’t think it was possible for someone to be earlier than me.”
Her thin lips lifted with a fleeting smile. “This is my third cup of java.”
“Right. I should catch up. I’m just going to…put this here.” I unloaded my messenger bag on the seat across from her. “Be right back. Oh—can I get you another one?”
Subtly, she nodded. I wondered why she didn’t add sunglasses to fully encompass the enigma aura.
The shop wasn’t crowded, as it wasn’t exam time when even the most slacker of slackers rushed to funnel caffeine while they digested textbooks. I had both our orders in less than three minutes, and was back with Ming.
“I’ll get right into it,” I said, lifting the messenger bag to my lap. I pulled out the proposal—a nice, dark purple I thought she’d appreciate, and handed to her. She accepted it silently. “How about you skim through, let me know your initial thoughts, and we’ll go from there.”
Ming said nothing, instead moving her coffee to the side and opening the portfolio. Her expression revealed nothing. It was as stoney as it was after her third cup of coffee. I hid my large gulp behind my cardboard cup, but underneath the table, my knees were bopping uncontrollably.
“Well,” she said. At last.
Ming had reached the last page, and closed the book with a prolonged sweep.
“Yes?” I said. I rattled around, finding my notepad and pen. Wishing I hadn’t forgotten to charge Spence’s iPad last night. “What are your thoughts?”
“I didn’t have much faith in Jade when she suggested her friend attempt to plan my party.”
Blunt as the tip of a professional chef’s butcher knife. Eesh.
I set my shoulders straight. “I can understand that. I’m not promising a top vendor’s kind of suave. But I laid out every single idea that popped into my head the moment I met you, and I can say confidently that this is damned cool. If it doesn’t fit—”
I stopped. With such a blank slate of a face, I had no idea if Ming was about to leap over the table and claw my eyes out or applaud the theme.
“Compliments aren’t really my thing,” she said as she opened up the portfolio again. “But I think you comprehended that as soon as you committed to this…creative spark of yours. Somehow, you’ve managed to take my childhood favorite memory and turn it into a nightmare.”
My gulp couldn’t b
e disguised this time. “Well—when you mentioned the carousel with your dad, riding the horses and the music, I was originally thinking some kind of Barnum and Bailey kaleidoscope of color, but to be honest, it didn’t fit. I tried, I know your parents would enjoy something like that, but it’s your party, so I wanted to meet somewhere in the middle—”
“You saw the darkness in me. My preference for the night.”
“I…right. Yes.”
“I love it.”
I uncurled my spine. “You do?”
“This.” She pressed an ebony-manicured nail into a particular photo of a ghastly carnival horse with fangs. “I want to take a paint gun to it right now.”
“Good, you caught that part,” I said, smiling wide. “I thought that’d be fun, to have everything black and white, but to give your guests small balloons filled with neon paint or similar, and just let loose under ultra-violet light. But…uh…” I wasn’t looking forward to this part. “Although I found all the vendors you need, it came in slightly over-budget.”
“I don’t care about that. I’m taking this to my father tonight.”
My heart bounced with glee. “Awesome. Now let’s talk about the food.” I pulled out my phone and leaned over the table. “There’s this amazing caterer I’ve been following on Instagram…”
And for the rest of the morning, I was able to plan, in complete detail, my first party.
Seven cups of coffee later (two were mine), Ming departed as seamlessly as I pictured a princess walking through Hades’s court.
There were a few papers and pens strewn about our table, so I went about gathering up my things and tossed our empty cups in the trash. As I was turning around, I spotted a familiar black cap.
I went still and clutched my tote tighter to my chest. Trev’s back was facing me and there was no way he could sense my presence. Besides, he was seriously engrossed in the woman seated across, someone I thought I’d seen in a few of my business classes: reddish hair, light eyes, tall and sinewy. My complete opposite. Good.
I walked by as if I hadn’t seen Trev, maybe with a bit too much two-step as I passed. My periphery caught him angling, his eyes glancing up at me, but he remained in his seat. In fact, as I surreptitiously turned when pushing open the door to outside, Trev had gone back to his conversation, his lips moving as if nothing had ever broken his concentration.
All signs pointed to positive. Hopefully, Trev was moving on and my only glimpses of him from hereon out would be in the corners of coffee shops, or a blur in a bar, or a bobbing head in school hallways, nothing more.
It was sad that six years could be diluted to this. Remembrances, according to Spence, were better left untouched. But Trev made an impression of firsts on me and I couldn’t forget the initial brushes I had of love.
I would, however, move past him.
Good-bye, Trev.
With the crisp breeze and bright sun of a fading winter on my cheeks, I turned the corner and made my way home, to a beginning where things might just be perfect the second time.
Two Months Later…
“Poaching eggs is not as easy as you promised, Bobby!” I said to my laptop, gesturing with an egg yolk soaked spatula.
Spence’s small kitchen now resembled small bomb site. An egg carton filled with broken shells lay spilled open on the counter, roughly cut lemon wedges seemed to have grown legs and walked to the stove and floor, and bowls and pans littered the granite. To add a finishing touch, a coating of flour outlined my footprints and finger marks all over…everything.
Cooking wasn’t my strong suit.
Thankfully, no one was witness to my decision to whip together Eggs Benedict for the first time ever at four in the morning. Knox was none the wiser (hopefully), and Spence wasn’t supposed to be up until—
“Uh. You covering up a crime in here?”
I whirled. “Spence!”
Spence stood in the space between the main room and the kitchen, one hand rubbing his face. “Do I wanna know?”
I had the wherewithal to call upon my bartender clean-up skills, and had two hand towels tucked into the back of my pajama pants. I wiped my hands on them and approached, laying the kind of kiss on him that would make him forget that this would all have to be cleaned up at some point. “You weren’t supposed to be awake yet.”
“Except I had the craziest dream,” he said, and gave me a second peck on the nose. “Some dude who was not my roommate was lecturing my girlfriend while she threatened him with…what was it? Yeah, throwing hot vinegar at his eyes instead of in the pot.”
I crinkled my nose but smiled. “You said girlfriend.”
“Don’t distract.” Spence splayed a hand on my hip and spun me back to the disaster zone.
“I wanted to make you a wonderful breakfast,” I admitted. “Before you disappeared for six hours into the LSAT time warp.”
Spence kissed the back of my head. “You went to too much trouble.”
“Well. Clearly.” I went to the boiling pot and inspected one of the last remaining eggs. “Oh! I think I got it this time!”
Spence leaned in behind me, his warm breath on my cheek and making me all goose-pimply. He said, impressed, “That looks all right.”
I lifted my hands in victory. “Tenth time’s a charm!”
Spence caught me around the waist, making me laugh when he nuzzled my neck. “Emme, you really didn’t have to do this.”
“Eggs Bennie are your favorite. What girlfriend am I if I can’t make you your favorite breakfast before your big day?”
“Only if I could return the favor,” he said. “Except—I don’t even know. What’s your favorite breakfast?”
“Red velvet pancakes with cream cheese icing and maple syrup.”
“Jesus.”
“Kidding.” I smacked him with the spoon. “Eggs and bacon all the way.”
Spence inspected the kitchen. “I can’t leave you alone in this. Let me help.”
“No, really, I—”
“Darling, sweetness, I love you, but…” he clasped both hands in front of him. “I cannot afford to have the shits two hours into the exam.”
I mock gasped. “How little faith you have.”
Chuckling, he took the wooden spoon from my grasp. “Eggs Benedict happens to be not only my favorite but also my speciality. And I promise you,” he said as he looped an arm around me and squeezed my ass. “I’m a lot more helpful than that guy over there living in your laptop.”
“Oh, yeah?” I pressed my hip deeper, feeling the growing, hardening ridge beneath his boxers.
Spence took one look at my face and then got down to what was really important in the kitchen while making breakfast.
Him. Naked.
“What about Knox?” I whispered, but I was already scanning his body, my hands resting on his rippling shoulders as he pulled his boxers off.
Spence straightened, cupped my hips, my ass, and slid my pajama pants down. “Sirens don’t wake him. A SWAT team won’t wake him. But…” He nuzzled my neck and I groaned. “You may have to keep quiet just in case.”
My underwear was off and he lifted me to the counter, my legs dangling as he slid in between, saying, “Even though I want to make you scream.”
Spence lowered down and buried his face in my thighs. I arched in pleasure, pushing against his mouth. His lips, his tongue…Spence had me tangling my fingers in his hair and banging the back of my head against the cupboards, but in this state, there was no such thing as pain. I closed my eyes to the feeling of his hot breath, his mouth and tongue tantalizing, coaxing, demanding I join the ride.
My chin could’ve hit the ceiling when I opened my mouth and came, the noises unquenchable and could never be quieted even if we were somehow in public.
The orgasm faded and I coaxed my vision into half-lidded clarity. Spence rose, but only to lift me off the counter and bring me to the ground with him.
He was my man. I could play with him, experiment in any way I wanted. Spence’s
body was covered in flour and I wanted to press my breasts into his chest, get some of that on me. Get dirty like him. I lifted my shirt off so we were both naked, then I put my palms to his pecs and slammed him to the ground.
“Is that how it’s gonna be?” he asked with his back on the floor, cocked smile in place.
“Oh yes,” I said and straddled him. Spence had the most beautiful dick, long and rigid, with soft as silk balls underneath. He enjoyed when I licked the velvet skin before taking him in my mouth, my tongue stroking and sucking and twirling. And when I cupped his balls and tugged, twisting gently as I sucked, his carnal moans matched mine.
I wanted to do just that to him, but deprive him of my mouth. That way I could clearly watch what I was doing to him, every grip and curl of my fingers, and every tug of pleasure hinging delicately on pain, would be written on his face, reeling behind his eyes.
Ideally, I wanted to do to him what he always managed to do to me.
With butter.
“That devilish grin better mean good tidings,” he said, but his voice was low in his chest.
I said nothing, instead locating the softened butter on the counter and warming it further between my palms.
“…Oh,” he said.
I bent down, and went about making a breakfast I knew I was good at.
#
Eventually, after slipping and sliding all over the floor, collecting butter and flour as we went, Spence made an actual food-based breakfast. My hair was so tangled with ingredients that I gave up on finger-combing it and just raked it to the side. My face likely wasn’t any better, considering Spence’s forehead and ridge of his nose were streaked with white. The kitchen fared the worst, and would probably take at least an hour to clean.
But ah, so worth it.
We sat at the hightop table near the balcony, the sunrise creeping over the city and our skin as we dived into Spence’s delicious breakfast that my overcooked eggs and watery hollandaise couldn’t hold a candle to. He was quiet, and any attempts I made at conversation dwindled the closer to the deadline of his leaving that we got. Spence’s eyes would dart to the view outside, then back to his plate, and he nursed his coffee like a man who was given his last cup before the Green Mile.
From This Day Forward Page 18