Moments In Time: A Collection of Short Fiction

by Alexander, Dominic K.

  Grayson returned to the bedroom, and when he bent down to put his boxers on, I asked, “Are you leaving?”

  His beautiful face was impassive as he said, “I wasn’t planning on it. One night, right? I assumed that meant the whole night.”

  That was my plan, and even though I thought my plan sucked, I held true to my words and nodded. “I need to get cleaned up.”

  I walked into the bathroom to check my reflection, and this mirror didn’t hold back either. This one plainly said, “You’ve lost your mind.”

  • • •

  Bright sunlight poured through my bedroom window, stirring me from a deep and restful sleep. The best I’d had in a while, in fact. I slowly opened my eyes to find Grayson looking right into them, and stretched as I said, “Good morning.”

  He kissed my forehead and pulled me close. “Good morning.”

  I smiled. “Did you sleep okay? We didn’t have that much room.”

  “Perfect. Everything was perfect. Do you want breakfast? We can go to my place and I could whip something up. It might just be a bowl of cereal, but it will be food.”

  “Cereal sounds great right now.” I flipped back the covers so I could get up and get ready, and he stopped me.

  “What time are you leaving today?”

  His raspy morning voice was enough to make me strip down and jump on him, but I couldn’t. I looked at the clock and saw that it was seven fifteen.

  “My agent will be here at eleven for me to sign the papers, and I’ll probably leave after that.”

  He wove his fingers through mine. “Will you be back to visit . . . ever?”

  I smiled and took a deep breath to steady my nerves, then exhaled. “Yeah, I’ll come back. You’re more than welcome to come and visit me, too.”

  He nodded, but by the look in his eyes, I knew he wouldn’t come. Dropping a kiss on my head, he said, “Go and get ready, then come over.” He kissed my cheek and left.

  I grabbed a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, and was ready for the humid day that was in front of me. After I worked the knots out of my hair, I pulled it up into a ponytail, then brushed on a little blush and mascara. My skin looked golden, still a bit sun-kissed from hanging out at my place in Pennsylvania, and that pleased me.

  I threw on my sandals and went over to Grayson’s. I knocked once, just like I used to when we were kids, then walked in and made a beeline for the kitchen, straight toward the coffee I smelled. Something caught my eye and I stopped before reaching the kitchen, noting that the house looked different.

  Grayson had done a nice job decorating; everything was homey and inviting, not at all like the bachelor pad I’d imagined. The framed photos on the walls were beautiful, mostly landscapes, which surprised me since I’d seen some of his subjects, and had became one myself yesterday. I turned the corner, expecting to see Grayson, but he wasn’t in the kitchen. When I called out to him, he told me to “Come on up.” Walking up the stairs, I was greeted with more pictures all along the stairwell wall, and slowed down to appreciate them. He truly was talented.

  I walked in Grayson’s bedroom and found him sitting at his desk, focused on his computer. I glanced over his shoulder at the computer screen and there I was, in full color and naked. I couldn’t help but gasp. “Grayson? I thought you weren’t going to post them.” My heart raced at the thought, and sweat trickled between my shoulder blades.

  He turned and smiled up at me. “I didn’t post them anywhere, don’t be ridiculous. I’m just looking at my beautiful friend. I told you I’m not sharing you. Come here and look how gorgeous you are.”

  I didn’t want to look at my pictures, but he looked so happy that I didn’t want to disappoint him. When I moved next to him, he pulled me down onto his lap. He reached for his mouse and a couple of clicks later, and there I was in all my glory.

  I averted my eyes and stood up. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. I don’t want to look at them. Can you please delete them?”

  Grayson looked up at me, obviously confused. “You’re beautiful, Sophie, but sure. Can I keep just one? I’ll show you my favorite.”

  Reluctantly, I nodded, and he scrolled through the pictures, then paused at one of just my face. I was looking directly at the camera and smiling. My body wasn’t in the picture. “This is my Sophie, my next door neighbor, the first woman I made love to, and my one and only. I’d like to keep this one; the others I have in a permanent photo album in my head.” He smiled, but his eyes seemed sad.

  My eyes threatened to fill with tears, but I blinked them back. “Okay, you can keep that one.”

  I hated that he felt this way. I did love him; I’ve always loved him. But I didn’t know if I could open the door to my heart, and give myself up to potential heartbreak. If I was with him, how would I handle his job? I’d been burned by a man who couldn’t pass up temptation, and that was with just one woman; Grayson would be surrounded by a myriad of temptations.

  One thing I knew for sure: I didn’t want breakfast anymore; I only wanted him. There were only a couple of hours left.

  “I’m not hungry anymore. Well, not for food.” I took his hand and pulled him to his feet. Looking up at his gorgeous brown eyes, I ran my hand through his messed-up hair, still damp from a shower, as he wrapped his arms around me. I brought my hand to his chest and placed it over his heart, feeling a strong and steady beat. Unable to help myself, I leaned in and kissed his chest, hoping he would feel it in his heart. Then I brought my hands to the waistband of his shorts and pulled them down.

  Grayson sucked in a breath as I touched him through his boxers and felt him get hard in my palm, but he didn’t say a word. I knelt down and kissed him through the fabric, then maneuvered the waistband up and over his now protruding erection and kissed the tip of it.

  His hands went into my hair. “Soph?”

  I didn’t respond; it wasn’t a time for words. Instead I lowered his boxers and took him in my mouth, caressing his length with my tongue before gently sucking on him. I wanted to taste him; I needed to taste him. Gently I grazed my teeth on him while stroking him with one hand from the base of his erection to my mouth, while my other hand carefully caressed his balls.

  “Oh my God,” he said through clenched teeth as he gripped my hair. “You’re going to make me come.”

  That was my plan, so I picked up the pace and increased the pressure of my tongue. Letting go of him, I brought my hands around to his ass and cupped it, pulling him toward me and forcing him deeper into my mouth. Every muscle in his body tensed before he climaxed and I was greeted with his flavor. It was warm, and I let it slide down my throat.

  Grayson’s hands went to the side of my head as he pulled me up and kissed me. As he made love to my mouth, I realized I was lost—in our kiss, in him, and in a love that I knew deep down I wanted. He broke the kiss and looked at me, then he scooped me up and placed me on his bed.

  “I need to make love to you. I have to have you one more time, Soph.” He lay down next to me and wrapped me in his arms before whispering, “Can I have you one more time?”

  I kissed him and that was his answer. He touched me and my body felt things it hadn’t in so long. This was different from last night; I wasn’t nearly as nervous. We made love and I knew that I would always remember this weekend with Grayson.

  • • •

  My real estate agent left, and the house I’d grown up in was no longer mine. Grayson helped me move to the garage some of the boxes and furniture I had planned to donate, and said he would take care of it for me. He put the other boxes in my trunk, which thankfully didn’t add up to too much. He closed the trunk and turned to me.

  “I guess this is it. Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” he asked in a voice so sad that it truly broke my heart.

  “I can’t,” I said, trying to be strong. “I have a job and I need to get back. Thank you for everything.” I raised up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.

  Grayson pulled me in and hugged me, then kissed the top of my hea
d. “Take care of yourself, and let me know when you get home so I know you made it.”

  I smiled and got in my car. As I turned the key in the ignition, I looked at him, watching as he popped a cigarette in his mouth and lit it, then took a long drag from it as he met my gaze. Emotions swirled around inside me, pulling me this way and that, and I was ready to burst, but I held it in. Steeling myself, I backed out of the driveway and waved good-bye. I didn’t chance a glance in my rearview window; I just looked forward and kept driving.

  In a daze, I merged onto the expressway and drove, trying to process the events of the last twenty-four hours. My music was playing in the car as thoughts of my weekend were playing in my head. It was like a slideshow of the past and the present.

  I pictured Grayson kissing me by the tree when we were kids, laughing at him when he was dressed as a princess, him handing me the gum from his baseball cards . . . and then I was in the present, thinking about the pictures he had taken, and how comfortable I was with him. The way Grayson made me feel. I was still blown away at the thought that he loved me.

  I just drove away from a man who truly loved me.

  As I crossed the New York border and entered Pennsylvania, I mulled over that fact as I noted the welcome sign that read, You have a friend in Pennsylvania. That was when it hit me.

  No, I don’t.

  I just left my friend, my best friend.

  Without a second thought, I took the next exit and turned my car around to head back the way I came.

  Back to him.

  I pulled into Grayson’s driveway and jumped from the car, then hurried to the door and rang the bell. The door opened and there he was: my beautiful friend and my one true love.

  He stood in the doorway, his body stiff as his eyes widened with surprise, and then concern. “Soph? Are you okay? I thought you were going home.”

  I looked into the eyes of the man I loved and gave him the biggest smile I could. “How could I? I already am home.”

  Grayson relaxed, then he smiled and pulled me to his chest. Holding me tightly, he pressed his lips against my hair and breathed out, “Thank God.”

  About the Author

  Family and friends are the most important things to Joanne Schwehm. She enjoys meeting new people, traveling, reading, relaxing on a beach and shopping. She has an addiction to coffee and Diet Coke; you may want to stand clear if she hasn’t had her daily intake!

  Writing has been something that has been private and not shared until the day she decided to publish Unexpected Chance. Waking up one morning to the voices of Alex Logan and Aubrey Ryan changed everything!

  She is an avid sports fan, especially when it comes to the New York Yankees. She also enjoys playing and watching golf.

  She firmly believes when that unexpected chance comes, take it. Don’t let it pass you by. You never know what you could be missing.

  Joanne may be found on social media at:

  Facebook: Joanne Schwehm Author

  Twitter: @JSchwehmBooks

  Google+: plus.google.com/+JoanneSchwehm

  Website: www.joanneschwehmbooks.com

  Books by Joanne Schwehm include:

  Chance Series

  Unexpected Chance

  My Chance

  Other Books

  Ryker (coming July 8, 2014)

  Maverick

  by Chelsea Camaron

  Edited by Asli Fratarcangeli

  Proofread by Pam Berehulke

  An ICU nurse takes a personal interest in a patient’s recovery, changing both his life and hers forever.

  Chapter One

  MaKenzy

  “I love you dearly, but you come with a lot of stuff, Kenzy,” Jessika, my childhood best friend states as she pulls open the flaps of yet another box of books sitting in my living room.

  “Not all of it will stay, I promise some will go back in storage. I haven’t seen most of this in so long, I want an opportunity to sort through it.”

  Being back in Gardendale, Texas, again after being away the last ten years is nice. Moving and unpacking, not so much. I’ve spent my time away from my hometown going to nursing school on a scholarship in Houston, and then working at a hospital there. I have a new job at a hospital in Odessa as an intensive care nurse.

  Jessika recently ended things with her fiancé and moved into a new apartment. I’ve signed my lease for the one-bedroom, one-bathroom apartment across the breezeway from her. It’s a tiny space, but it will work perfectly. I’ll be on a rotating shift at the hospital. My hours will be spent there more than here. When I am home, it’s going to be to sleep and do laundry, no need for something overly elaborate.

  Walking through my front door, there is a small kitchen directly to the right. It’s basic—a sink, stove, refrigerator, countertop microwave, and cabinets. No dishwasher, which is going to suck, but the place is cheap enough. The bar area is for eating as there is no real dining space.

  To the left of the entry door, is my bedroom. Its four plain white walls house my queen-sized bed and one dresser. Off the bedroom is the bathroom. It reminds me of a small hotel restroom. A toilet, a bathtub/shower, and a small counter with a sink. Nothing is fancy or overdone.

  Just beyond the kitchen is the living room. There is enough room for a couch and chair, but not a full living room set. I’ve lined the right half of the main wall with one of my two bookshelves, putting the other on the wall to the right of that in the corner. Rather than have the space crowded, I bought a loveseat and a chaise longue. I’ve placed the chaise by the bookshelves diagonal to the corner, making a reading nook. The other half of the room has my loveseat, a small coffee table, and a television we’re hoping to figure out how to mount to the wall.

  Jessika and I went to my storage unit that I’ve had for the last four years since my single mom moved to live with my aging and ailing grandparents. We brought all of those boxes over yesterday after we finished unpacking my usual stuff.

  “This one is yours to unpack. You’ve really saved everything,” she states as she moves on, opening the next box.

  Sitting down beside her, I look into the box of memorabilia. Finding my high school yearbook, I giggle as I pull out the annual. Opening the cover, I smile as I see my teenage doodles.

  “You know he’s still here in Odessa right?” Jessika asks, looking over at me.

  “Who?” I ask, not realizing who she was referencing.

  “Maverick.”

  Looking at the focus of my scribbles, I see the many ways I signed his name and mine together in overly girly, bubbly handwriting in my book of memories.

  Maverick Slade Collins and MaKenzy Norelle Davis, together forever

  Mrs. MaKenzy Collins

  Maverick and MaKenzy

  Hearts used to dot the i’s and clouds around our names added to the fluff of my high school scribbles. Living in the clouds, I was. Maverick was the popular guy. The football player, hot, and every teenage girl’s fantasy. He never knew I existed. I was the nerdy girl. Braces, a little curvy, frizzy hair, glasses, and no sense of style. Jessika and I have been each other’s only friend since around sixth or seventh grade when suddenly what you looked like mattered.

  We both went to college and blossomed. She’s a gorgeous brunette with a thin face and strong jawline to pull off the pixie haircut she wears. Once pudgy, she’s now trim and fit. Given she’s a fitness instructor, she works hard to keep her size-four figure. Her washboard stomach does make me jealous.

  My body is shaped more like that of a pear, and my black hair that wants to puff into a wild bush on top of my head is tamed only by anti-frizz serum and an hour every day with my hair straightener. My B-cup breasts are obviously nothing to brag about. My flat stomach isn’t fat, but definitely not defined, and starts the path to my hips and ass that puts me in a size twelve.

  Jessika and I look nothing like we once did. She’s learned to embrace her small frame, and rocks skinny jeans with the best of them. I’ve learned that a push-up bra can do w
onders, and to slim my hips I wear straight-leg dark-wash jeans, no flare, and certainly nothing of the painted-on skinny variety.

  We’re two laid-back Texas girls getting established in life. We’ve both graduated from college and had our hearts broken. Her fiancé of two years couldn’t hold down a job and had no motivation in life to do anything for himself or her. She paid for her own damn engagement ring. Feeling used got old and she’s moving on.

  My college sweetheart and I spent five years together. Five years of loving, trusting, and building a life together. Apparently, he didn’t get the memo that we were in a monogamous relationship. So while I spent five years living in the clouds of a happily ever after with him, he was busy spreading his seed far and wide around the Houston area. When not one but two of my coworkers popped up pregnant within two months of each other—both of them by my live-in boyfriend—I had to face some facts.

  In all of this, I found out that in the five years we were together, he was only faithful approximately one year, if I’m being generous. Sex addiction, he calls it. Stupidity, irresponsibility, selfishness, immaturity, greediness, and any other way I can describe his inability to own up to his mistakes and his inability to keep his damn dick in his pants, that’s what I call it.

  I tried to stay in Houston, but it wasn’t the same. My coworkers were constantly having catfights over him and his child support. Everywhere I turned, I felt his infidelity slapping me in the face. He wasn’t all that in the bedroom, so why they were so hell-bent on being the one he was with was beyond me. He gave me a handful of orgasms over the years, but nothing earth shattering.

  “Snap out of it.” Jessika’s voice rings out, taking me away from my thoughts.

  “Sorry, I was thinking of how far we’ve come since high school.”

  “And Maverick.” She smiles at me.

  “He’s probably bald, overweight, and an asshole.”