Smiling at her, I let her lead the way.
Pulling her keys out of her pocket, she unlocks the door, pushing it open. Reaching her hand inside the door, she fumbles with a light switch on the wall. Flipping the switch, a light in what seems to be the dining room turns on. Walking through the door she says, “Come on in. I’m just going to check and see if Dean’s here real quick.”
Grabbing her shoulder, I say, “Let me do it. You just point out what room is his and I’ll check for you.
Her eyes go wide as she says, “No way. I’m not going to have you poking around in our personal spaces.”
Putting a hand up to stop her before she continues, I shake my head and say, “All right, well at least let me come with you.”
“Fine,” she replies, agreeing to my suggestion.
Pushing the door open to let Derrick through, I watch as he scans the living room. My grey colored couch with a chaise lounge attached to the end of it sits in the center. A handmade quilt that Dean’s grandmother had made drapes over its backing. The fifty-eight inch flat screen TV hangs mounted on the wall across from the couch. On the wall to the left of the chaise lounge sits a fireplace with large windows on each side. The walls are stark white and bare. Walking back into the hallway, there are two doors on the left and one on the right. Opening the first door on my left is Dean’s room. Flipping on the light switch, I’m not surprised that it’s clean and well organized, but I can tell that Derrick is, by his mouth hanging agape.
Noticing that Dean’s not here, I murmur under my breath, “I guess I’m going to have to call him to see where he’s at. I mean, I knew he was talking about going to a party a little later, but I thought after everything that happened tonight… You know what? Never mind, he’s not my keeper.” I say the last part mostly to myself even though I know Derrick heard it.
Shoving past him, I walk back into the hallway with Derrick following behind me. Opening the only door on our right, he reaches in turning on the light. It’s only a bathroom. The red shower curtain that hangs in front of the bathtub is the only thing that gives it color. Reaching the last door on the left, we’re at my room. I turn the knob pushing the door open and search for the light switch on the wall. Flipping it on, my room comes to life. My queen-sized bed with grey flannel sheets and a white duvet sits back in the far right corner next to a window. A nightstand sits to the left of the bed, with a clock, lamp and book on top of it. My dark brown oak dresser and its mirror are on the left wall. Make-up, perfume, and a jewelry box lie scattered on top of the dresser. Thank God, I decided to do laundry the other day.
Turning to Derrick, I say, “I know it’s not much, but it’s mine and I love it.”
Smiling down at me, he says, “I didn’t say anything. I like it.”
Walking back down the hallway and away from him, I yell over my shoulder, “Did you want something to drink?”
“Yeah, I’ll take some water, thanks,” he says, following me.
With my cell phone in my back pocket, I reach behind me and pull it out. I check to see if there are any missed calls or text messages from Dean—nothing. Fine, I’ll text him then.
Me: Hey, where are you? Please text me back or call me.
Clicking the button at the top of my iPhone to lock it, I walk into the kitchen opening the fridge. Pulling out two bottles of water, I hand one to Derrick and twist the cap off mine. After taking a sip from the bottle, I pull it away from my lips. Derrick and I are both silent. I need a distraction, and the only thing that sounds good is TV.
Walking into the living room, I sit down on the couch, picking up the remote and turning the TV on. Standing at the end of the couch, Derrick asks, pointing at the empty seat next to me, “Can I sit?”
Looking up at him, I hesitate then say, “Umm…sure.”
Surprisingly, he kicks off his shoes, walks over to the chaise end of the couch, sits down and leans back with one arm resting behind his head and the other one draped across his stomach. The image laid out before me stirs something deep within me that I’ve never felt before. I watch as he glances at me through the corners of his eyes. A grin tugs at the corners of his lips knowing he’s caught me staring. Jackass.
Part of me wants to be a smartass and ask if he wants a blanket too, since he seems to be making himself at home. There’s a bigger part of me though, that wants to climb on top of that rock hard chest of his and fall asleep. I need to get myself under control, right now. Standing up, I hand him the remote and say, “I’m going to go get changed real fast.”
Taking the remote from me, the tips of our fingers make the slightest connection, for the briefest of seconds, causing a gasp to escape me. His eyes lock on mine as I pull my hand back. Pivoting on the balls of my feet, I retreat hastily to my room where there are no attractive men waiting for me.
Closing the door behind me, I sag against it and take a deep calming breath. Trying to shake the thoughts that are running through my mind, I walk over to my dresser pulling out a pair of pink sweats, and a grey long sleeved T-shirt for bed. Changing out of my work clothes, I change into what I would consider my pajamas. Flipping my head over, I pull my hair up and into a messy bun that sits haphazardly on the top of my head. Grabbing a pillow, I walk back into the living room.
Plopping down on the couch, pillow in hand, I see that Derrick has turned the TV to Man vs. Food on the Travel Channel. It’s one of the episodes where the host, Adam, eats some really spicy Mexican food. Why he would do that to himself is beyond me. I mean he has to wear gloves to eat the shit for crying out loud. Feeling brave, I lay my pillow on the cushion that connects to the chaise lounge and lie down. I can feel Derrick’s eyes boring into me, but I try to block it out. This alone is a gigantic step for me. Only one other person has ever comforted me before, and that’s Dean. Now when I needed him the most tonight, he’s gone, but Derrick’s here.
Clearing my throat, I tilt my head back on the pillow and look up at him. “Thank you for tonight. I really don’t think you could understand how much I appreciate it.”
Smiling down at me he says, “You’re welcome.”
Nodding, I avert my eyes back to the TV. Within minutes, I feel my lids grow heavy with exhaustion as sleep comes to claim me. Just as I begin to drift off, I feel the slightest touch of the pad of Derrick’s thumb graze my cheek. I know I should be protesting about this seemingly innocent yet intimate touch, but I can’t—it just feels too right.
I don’t know how long I’ve been sleeping, but my eyes barely crack open when I feel something draped over me. Opening my eyes further and yawning, I see Derrick laying the quilt from the back of the couch over me. He crouches down in front of me and I ask him in a whisper, “What time is it?”
His fingers sweep across my forehead, brushing back the hairs that have fallen loose from my bun out of my eyes. Whispering back, he says, “It’s three in the morning.” Leaning into me, my eyes go wide as he brushes the faintest of kisses against my forehead. His lips are full and soft, yet firm. Rendered speechless, my eyes drift up to his lips wishing that now he had kissed me on my lips instead. Pulling back, he looks into my eyes and says, “I’m going to go, okay? I’ll lock up on my way out.”
As he begins to stand up, my arms spring to life and I tug on his arm. “Wait, is Dean here?” I ask in a raspy just awakened voice.
“No, he hasn’t come back yet,” he replies.
“Will you stay with me until he does?” I ask with pleading eyes.
Nodding, he says, “Okay, let me just turn off the light.”
I lie back down as he walks over to the wall, turning off the dining room light. The comfort of having someone with me is what I really need. Even though my bed is calling my name, the need to stay close to Derrick is screaming at me. I feel the chaise end of the couch dip down with his weight as he returns.
Taking a chance and many deep breaths, my heart beats wildly under my ribs as I sit up. Slowly, I scoot closer to Derrick. With a shaky hand, I lift his arm up an
d off his chest and wrap it around my shoulders as I cuddle into his side. Taking the blanket, I drag it up and over the both of us, covering us up. Nestling my head into the crook of his arm, his grip tightens around me. With my legs curled up underneath me, I pull the blanket higher, tucking it under my chin. Releasing a satisfied sigh, I whisper, “Good night, Derrick.”
I feel his lips skim the top of my head as he whispers back to me, “Good night, Blake.”
The early morning sun filters in through the windows shining brightly against my closed eyes. My eyes flutter open, and smiling, I welcome the warmth from the sun against my face. Stretching my arms above my head and arching my back I feel the weight of an arm draped around my waist. The crisp feel of denim-clad legs mingles with mine. It dawns on me that when I fell asleep last night cuddled up next to Derrick, we were both sitting up; now we’re both lying down on the couch. I can feel his soft even breaths against my neck as he sleeps soundly. With my back against his chest, that’s when I notice the bulge coming from within his pants pressed lightly against my ass.
With wide eyes, a sensation that I’ve never known awakens a need in me that I’m just not ready to face. Slowly rolling over to face him, I can’t help but think of just how beautiful he actually is. I want so badly to touch his face, but I keep my hands still and just admire him. With his lips slightly parted, the top is a smidge thinner than the bottom. I trace the slight bump of his nose with my eyes. His squared jawline with morning stubble begs me to caress his face. No longer able to resist the urge, I reach up to touch his jaw. I stop mid-way when his eyes begin to open. Seeing my deer-in-the-headlights reaction, he looks up and sees my hand hovering above. With a small smile, he reaches up between us grabbing my hand and pulls it down onto his face.
Silently we stare at each other for a while trying to convey what we both want with just our eyes. Leaning into me, my eyes flicker first to his mouth and then back up to his eyes. His eyes mirror my actions as he leans in further, a breath away from my lips. He looks back into my eyes and whispers, “Blake, I really want to kiss you right now.”
Wrapped up in the moment, adrenaline surges through me like a wildfire gone rampant. My heart beats uncontrollably, and the sound of blood flow in my ears, thunders like a herd of cattle on the move. “Okay.” It’s the only word that I can say.
Leaning in, his soft lips lightly brush against mine, kissing my top lip first, then my bottom. My body falls limp in his arms as he pulls me closer to him, molding our bodies together. My hand that has been caressing his jaw is now cupping his face, pulling his mouth closer to mine. The tip of his smooth tongue flicks against my bottom lip seeking entrance. My mouth opens on its own accord to him. Propping himself up on his elbow, he angles his head, deepening the kiss. Our tongues dance in soft unhurried strokes. A dam of years’ worth of pent up hormones bursts free, sending shockwaves through me. This kiss is soft yet demanding. The grip he has on my hip is almost painful as he tries to control himself.
He’s the first to pull back, leaving me panting and reeling for more. I can hear his heavy breathing as he tries to catch his breath. Slowly my eyes drift open, and the only thing I see are a set of gorgeous hazel eyes staring back at me. “Wow,” I breathe out in a rush.
A slight chuckle escapes him at my open admission. I can feel the bunching of my shirt as his hand caresses my side. Leaning down he gives me one more peck. “Wow is right.”
Grinning like a kid on Christmas morning who has just received her favorite Barbie doll I whisper, “What does this mean, Derrick?”
“It means, why don’t you come and have lunch with me today and we’ll figure it out. Because right now I have to go back to my hotel room and take a cold shower,” he says, raising an eyebrow, “and then I have to hurry up and finish the rest of my business so we can have lunch.”
“Okay. What time is it anyway?” I ask.
Leaning over me, he reaches for his phone picking it up off the floor, checking the time. Looking down at me, he says, “It’s a quarter to eight.”
As I sit up, I push him back into the couch. His eyes go wide as I lean down over him. Chuckling, I whisper against his lips, “I think it’s time for you to go then.”
Pulling away from him, I throw my legs over the edge of the couch and stand up. Without looking back, I walk down the hallway as I hear him yell, “What are you doing?”
Yelling back over my shoulder, I say, “Going to the bathroom.”
Returning from the bathroom, Derrick stands by the front door with his shoes on and keys in hand. I walk up to him as he pulls me in for a hug. Giving me a peck on the lips, he says, “I’ll text you where to meet me for lunch, or did you have a place in mind that you’d like to go to?”
Shaking my head, I reply, “No, wherever you want to go is fine.”
“Okay, I’ll see you later then?” He asks.
Smiling and nodding, I say, “Later.”
Releasing me from his embrace, he turns around opening the door—and leaves. Closing the door behind him and locking it, I lean back taking a deep breath. My cheeks hurt from the smile plastered on my face. I’m a little confused about everything that has just happened. I know one thing; he sure can kiss. I want him; as I’ve never wanted anyone else.
Pushing off the door, I head off to my room to see if Dean’s called. I’m worried about him. It’s not like him to stay out all night and not come home. It’s so out of character for him to not even text me or call me back. Walking into my room and over to my bed, I pick up my now dead phone. As I plug it in, loud banging echoes throughout the apartment. Dropping the phone on the nightstand, I run down the hallway towards the door as the banging continues. Reaching the door I look through the peephole and see Dean.
My chest heaves up and down as I try to catch my breath. Shouldering through the crowded bar, I shake my hands trying to extinguish the rage coursing through my veins. Shoving the wooden doors of the bar, they fly open almost knocking someone in the face. As I look up, the red that I just saw finally begins to dissipate. I see Derrick; he looks back at me with wide eyes. I’m sure that I look like a rabid animal right now.
“Is everything all right man?” he asks. His eyes flick to my raw cut up knuckles that hurt like a son of a bitch.
“No.” It’s all I can manage to say before I close my eyes, taking a deep breath.
“What happened? Is everything okay with Blake?” he asks looking past me, over my shoulder, into the bar.
“You should probably go and check on her,” I say, shaking my head, trying to get that look of horror on her face out of my mind.
“Is she okay though?” he asks, giving me a pointed look.
“I don’t know. If you’ll excuse me, I need to get out of here,” I say, stepping out of the bar and onto the sidewalk. I don’t look back, I know Derrick’s trying to figure out what the hell happened and I just don’t want to explain it right now. I’m afraid if I talk about it, I’ll go into another blind rage and end up back in the bar beating Ryan to within an inch of his life.
Pulling out my cell, I dial Kyle’s number hoping he’ll come and pick me up, because there is no way I can drive right now. I intend to get as drunk as possible tonight. As the phone rings, and continues ringing, I’m about to hang up when he answers.
“Dean! What’s going on man?” he shouts through the phone. Pulling it away from my ear, I can hear the loud sound of music and people yelling.
Cautiously, I put the phone back to my ear and say loudly, “Hey dude. Is there any way you can come out to Ocean City and pick me up?”
“Yeah, no problem. Is everything all right?”
“I just need to get out of here, the sooner the better,” I say, smoothing my hand over my face.
“Where do you want me to pick you up?”
“Just come and get me from the bar. Let me know when you’re close so I can meet you out front,” I say, walking back toward my apartment.
“All right, I’m on my way,” he says. By
the concerned tone in his voice, I can tell he’s telling the truth. The sounds of whatever party he’s at grow distant.
“Thanks Kyle.”
“I’ll be there in about twenty, maybe thirty minutes,” he says, and the sound of a door slamming in the background tells me he’s gotten in his car.
“All right, I’ll see you soon.”
Hanging up, I slump down on the bottom step of the stairs that lead up to mine and Blake’s apartment. I haven’t felt despair like this since my close friend, Jamie, was attacked. We had been neighbors all of our lives, and once I got out of that “girls suck” stage, we became close friends. We never surpassed the friends-only stage, even though there were times I thought we might.
One day after football practice, my senior year, I was jogging out of the locker room in the direction of the stands to meet Jamie. She had asked me earlier that day, in English, if I would give her a ride home. Of course, I said yes, and told her to meet me at the football stands when she was finished working on the school paper. She was editor of our high school newspaper and awarded with a full ride scholarship to almost any college she wanted to attend. Her goal was to graduate with a degree in English, and eventually work for a publishing company.
When I got to the stands, she wasn’t there. I looked around for her for about ten minutes. Thinking she might have caught a ride home with someone else, I turned to leave when I heard a whimper off in the distance. My back straightened, my shoulders squared, and my neck stiffened as I quietly put my back pack and football gear down on the ground. I made my way toward the sound as quietly as possible. Something was wrong—I could feel it. I purposely stepped over cracks in the pavement, staying away from the railings and the bleachers, trying my damndest not to make a sound. As the whimper grew louder, I quickened my pace. That’s when I saw, under the bleachers, one of the most horrific sights I had ever seen.
I leaped over the railing closest to the football field, as if it was a hurdle. I sprinted full force around to the back of the bleachers, only to be confronted by a broken Jamie. Both of her eyes were swollen, and in the beginning stages of bruising. Blood gushed down her face from a cut on her brow bone. Her top lip was swollen and split, with blood oozing out of the gaping wound. Her orange shirt hung torn and limp from her body. Her brown hair was disheveled while her brown eyes normally full of life, looked defeated. Her pants and panties had been shoved down to her ankles, and both of her shoes were missing. Her whole body trembled with fear as I ripped my shirt off, applying pressure to the cut on her eye trying to control the bleeding. Pulling my cell out of my pocket, I said, “Jamie, I need you to tell me what happened.”
Luck of Love Page 10