Knock Love Out (A Sensual New Adult Crossover Romance)

by Grace, Pella

Problem:

  “I’ll see you later.”

  I lay on my bed, watching as she reaches for her purse and a handful of papers. My pencil stuck in her hair. She stole my pencil. My pencil.

  Rolling over I stare at the ceiling, not wanting to watch her leave. Walk away. Go where she’s headed.

  “Who loves you?”

  I just want her voice telling me—me. Me.

  “You.”

  But Lilla needs someone to not be Adam. Not be a selfish person. I’ll take one for her. I’ll be that guy.

  My head lolls to the side, just as she reaches the door.

  “Lilla …” She turns. I hold her with my eyes. I try to make it sound as true and strong as three words could possibly be.

  PART THIRTEEN

  LILLA KING

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  I don’t want to think about mediation. I don’t want to recall Adam’s stare or the things he said. Promised. The way he grabbed my arm in the hallway and begged me on his knees to listen. I don’t want to remember the hate in my heart when he called me names or accused. I don’t want him to be anywhere near me when I walk through Cash’s door.

  I don’t want my safe place tainted.

  I don’t want my happiness unraveled.

  I want to find Cash and make up stupid nicknames. I want to snuggle close and hear him speak nonsense of my toes. I want to be the sky. I want to be a weird beautiful color.

  I want him to pluck the pencil from my hair and draw something.

  Anything. Always.

  I tug the key he gave me from my bag, shoving it in the door, but pause when I hear music playing loudly. My ear leans towards the sound, pushing the door slowly as I enter.

  Oh, Sky Wizard, bless you, sir.

  It’s official. Cash is my Personal Jesus.

  I always feel like, somebody’s watching meeeeeee.

  His feet moonwalk. His hips go this way and that way and he does not know I am here. He is lost in a sea of Rockwell and Michael Jackson. It is eighty-four and I wonder if he has a red leather jacket and a sparkly glove.

  Wrong song, I know, but still I wonder.

  How could I not?

  I don’t need to know if he has a pair of sunglasses in his imaginary land.

  He has them on in real life.

  A huge pair and oh lord, he’s jumping on the couch. Off the couch. On. Off. On. Off. There goes his hips again.

  Fist pumping.

  Cash is fist pumping.

  I have to curl my fingers and press them to my mouth.

  Shit, my movement gave me away. He jumps—not on the couch—but more like, like a scared little girl.

  “That …” He taps his finger at me, trying to laugh it off, but he is caught red-handed. Red-faced. He laughs, clearing the embarrassment from his throat. “That is not right, Lilla.”

  “I think it is called karma and I am in love with her so hard.”

  “I was only doing it to make you laugh. I knew you were coming home. Really.”

  I take a step towards him.

  “Does Mariah know you’re cheating on her with Michael?”

  He falls onto the couch, still breathing hard from his dancing.

  “If you had shown up five minutes ago, you would have seen my love for Mariah is still in full force.”

  “I’m going to pray that means you were dancing to her music, C-Child.”

  He grins, patting the couch.

  I take a seat. “At least you had on the appropriate song for the situation.”

  His hand cups over my mouth and he pushes me into the cushions, on my back. I pull the sunglasses off his face and toss them aside.

  “Your make-up is all smudged. How hard do I have to beat Adam in his face?”

  I roll my face into the pillow. I need to hide.

  “It was brutal. I never want to do that ever, ever again.”

  “Wanna lick on some Schweddy Balls and tell me about it, Honey-girl?”

  I peek out from the pillow. “I pray you are talking dirty ice cream to me.”

  “My balls aren’t Schweddy. I’m in great shape.” He hops up from the couch, making noise in the kitchen.

  I kick off my heels and pull the pencil from my hair, tossing it to the coffee table. Cash has a collection of papers sitting aside. I pick one of them and glance over it, my heart singing at every detail.

  He sits on the couch, taking off the lid to the pint of ice cream.

  I want the inside of his head and nothing else. I want to know what all these swipes mean. Equal. What the sum of their parts are. Why he needs to create them.

  I want a mind that thinks beyond everyday things. I want a conversation that isn’t tainted by resentment and hurt. Light-hearted boy. Light eyes. Great smile. Warm lap. Good hugs. Kind smile. Loves Alfredo. Home.

  The paper is set back on the pile. I lean forward, tucking my legs beneath me so I can reach him. Eyes on eyes, I don’t look away. My hands cup around his, holding onto the pint. My tongue digs slowly through the top of the ice cream, a clean swipe pulled into my mouth.

  Cash doesn’t speak. He simply tosses the silver spoon over his shoulder, an impressed grin gracing his features. I just wanted it one more time.

  “Well goddamn.”

  I smile and take another lick, inserting my finger into my mouth, pulling away and offering it to him.

  “I think you should have mediation every day, Honey-girl.” His lips surround my finger, pulling away slowly.

  I move to his lap, placing my head on his shoulder. Eyes closed and something about this kid—his arms holding me—makes my mouth talk. Like it’s safe. I’m safe.

  “What would you do if you could do anything in the world, right now, Cash?”

  “Simple. You.”

  “Think bigger.”

  “Impossible.”

  I laugh sadly, keeping my eyes closed. “Aside from me, what would you want to do right now?”

  “Right now?” he asks. I nod. “I’d like to go swimming with a dolphin.”

  Exactly what I want him to say. Something foolish. Something unpredictable. Something so far removed from the past.

  “I love beluga whales. Killer whales scare the crap out of me though.”

  His head leans to mine. “I’m petrified of killer whales. Jesus Christ. I think it’s the eyes.”

  “I love turtles, though. Turtles are amazing. I’d let a car hit me if it meant I could save one from getting run over.”

  Cash sweeps his fingers through my hair.

  “Why would a turtle be in the road, Honey-girl?”

  “It happens. They get lost just like people. They get picked up and put somewhere they don’t belong until a nice person comes along and puts them back in the water. Shows them which way is home.”

  “I’d pick you up and put you back in the water, Lilla. I would. Promise.”

  My eyes squeeze close. No more tears for today. Not here. Not in my safe happy Cash place. No.

  “You already have.”

  He’s quiet. The music changes to something sad. Slow. Fitting. I just lie on him and breathe. I am allowed to be a selfish person and steal his time. I’m allowed to be a girl who needs a moment.

  “Ugliest animal of all time?” He proposes. “Vulture. For fucks sake—they wait around waiting for something to die. They eat dead rotten things. I look at a vulture and I see the Grim Reaper’s children. I think he kills just to feed them. Bastards. Death-eating fuckers.”

  “It’s the circle,” I murmur. “It’s just the circle of life. Someone dies, someone lives. Something ends, something begins. Your dad’s store will end and a new chapter will start for someone else. My marriage is over and we have each other. Adam will have someone new. He’ll be happy. I’ll be happy. Death is just part of life. The circle.”

  “I still think vultures are vile, Honey-girl. I understand what you’re saying, though.” His fingers scratch along my head, lips pressing into my shoulder.

  I allow myself to b
e greedy for a few more minutes, pressing myself to him. Taking all I can. Rocked like a child.

  Softly, “Adam said I could keep the building.”

  The rocking stops.

  Nervous. Apprehension. “W-why would he do that?”

  I pull away and swallow. There isn’t a depth deep enough to push this feeling into. His thumb touches my face when I can’t get the words to obey my brain.

  “Lilla?”

  “I know your father said it wouldn’t work as a grocery store, but I just couldn’t sit there and watch him smile and take something that was only of value because I fell in love with you. Because it hurt you. It belongs to your family. You could make it an art studio. A gallery. A school. You’re so talented. You could do—be—anything. Anything at all.”

  He closes his eyes. “Lilla.”

  I press my head to his. “You said love was unselfish. This is how I love you. This is how I know how.”

  He cups my face, his palms flushed with the fever of his heart being broken.

  “There’s nothing I want more than you. Why can’t girls just get over the stupid shit from their childhoods and recognize what’s real? This is real. I’m a big fucking kid, yeah. I make stupid goddamn jokes and curse too much. I know it. But this is real, Lilla. This isn’t a fucking joke to me. Feel—” He presses my hand to his chest. “Feel. That is real. Feel.”

  “This isn’t about you being a kid. And I know—” I take his hand from my face and mimic his action, placing his over my heart. “I know.”

  “You’re goddamn insane, Lilla. You’re goddamn serious—aren’t you?”

  “I love you.”

  “You don’t know shit about love. Adam tortured you for how many years and you run back. I pour my heart at your feet and you kick it. You don’t know shit about love. I couldn’t draw you a picture clear enough. Metaphoric or otherwise.”

  I slide from his lap.

  I want to leave with beauty. I want to leave with an unselfish heart. I want the last words exchanged to be truth. I want soft green eyes and cocky.

  A tug on the door and I order my feet to do it. I order my voice to say it. I dig in my bag and find the keys to the end. I set them on the table.

  “Bye, Cash.”

  His eyes stare at the keys. I wait for ten seconds, but he doesn’t move or speak. Slowly I close the door, exhaling into the quiet nothing.

  Two feet walking solo for the first time in a long time. Where they are headed—I’m not so sure.

  But they aren’t running. There’s no rearview mirror in this plan. Maybe it sounds cheesy—but I’m just walking to myself.

  Adam doesn’t want me—he just doesn’t want me with him.

  I don’t want Adam—I just want Cash to live.

  I don’t want to be the anchor around his feet. I want to be the sky. I want to be the colorful weird name. I want him to reach the heights he is capable of.

  I know how it feels to be held in place. I know what it is like to dream without sleep.

  He deserves this kind of love.

  The kind of love I never understood.

  Until now.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Melanie Lockhart’s house. 2:30 pm. Table. Plans.

  Lilla: A black sweater. His hair is swept neatly to the side. Odd. Beautiful. I swear his eyes are greener today than normal. Is this my punishment? Is this my karma for being a cheater? Breaking vows?

  Cash: Vanilla and toasted marshmallows. I accidentally touch her foot under the table. My legs quickly tuck under my chair, crisscrossed safely at the ankle.

  Lilla: “So, I propose we create each window display to be a painting of …” I swipe my forehead, trying to think. “After speaking with the designers I found out they have a hard time affording extra workers in this economy, so, creating new window displays every time the inventory changes is a challenge. Time consuming. So, if … if Cash could create something that would eliminate that problem. That would be great.”

  Cash: “You’re gonna have to be a little more specific.”

  Melanie: “I agree. And—I’m not so sure that is a wise choice. Marketing new apparel is key to success. You of all people should understand this, Lilla. It’s why I hired you.”

  Lilla: “But the branding should speak for itself. That’s what I’m getting at. Every designer has a signature. It’s why people gravitate towards specific brands. If we can showcase the heart of why the client fell in love in the first place with the brand—then—it will be like … like …”

  Cash: “Going home.”

  Lilla: I swear his eyes are greener today.

  Melanie: “I really expected the work to be further along on this. What have you two been up to all this time? You don’t even have anything sketched. No story-boards. Nothing. This is a weak presentation and waste of my time.”

  Cash: “Lilla’s idea will work. Do you like it or not? I have other stuff to do.”

  Melanie: “Watch your tone. You’re talented, but not that talented.”

  Lilla: This woman has no idea.

  Melanie: “I’m going to disappear for five minutes, when I come back, I expect to see something I can actually see.”

  Cash: I reach for a pencil.

  Lilla: I knock his hand when he reaches for a pencil.

  “Sorry. Sorry.”

  Cash: I take the pencil she offers and tug a sheet of paper from her pile, flipping it over. Head down and I just work, even though, I have no idea what I’m supposed to do.

  I get it, but I don’t even know what designers are going into this shopping center. I haven’t paid any attention to this campaign. I could give a fuck less, in all honesty.

  I simply showed up in hopes she would show up too.

  I simply showed up so I wouldn’t leave her hanging if she did.

  Lilla: “Do you really like this idea or are you just going along with it?”

  Cash: Shrug. Work.

  Lilla: “If you have a better idea I’d like to hear it.”

  Cash: “You don’t want to know what I’m thinking, Lilla. Trust me.” I pause. “Do you have a picture of what the fuck these people sell? I have no idea.”

  Lilla: I nod, tugging the client portfolio from my bag. Flip the pages to Marissa Waters. “Her trademark is a red heart.”

  Cash: “How adorably boring.” I look at the pages quickly flipping through the pictures. “A fucking red heart. Didn’t bring a blindfold with you by chance?”

  Lilla: “Blindfold?”

  Cash: “I’d like some type of challenge here.”

  Lilla: “Oh. Sorry. No.” Because what I really want to say isn’t allowed. “Um, Gia Rosa is a little more creative.”

  Cash: She slides me a second portfolio. I glance briefly to the pages, not really giving a shit about what their esthetic is.

  “Talk nonsense.”

  Lilla: “Excuse me?”

  Cash: “I feel weird when I’m watched. Fucking talk about something stupid.”

  Lilla: Um? His pencil pauses. I’m irritating him. “Your feet can produce up to a pint of sweat a day.”

  Cash: “Who the fuck sweats that much?” I grab a red pen from the cup. “Not my feet, that’s for damn sure.”

  Lilla: “A donkey will sink in quicksand but a mule won’t.”

  Cash: “Aren’t they the same?”

  Lilla: “Apparently not.” He has half of the page outlined.

  Cash: “You have any markers, Honey … Lilla?”

  Lilla: If they aren’t greener, I’m the freaking Sky Wizard.

  “I think so.” I dig through my bag, finding a few strays in the bottom.

  Cash: “If the mule had any kind of decency to him, he’d pull the donkey’s ass from the mud.”

  Lilla: “An ass’s ass. That’s convoluted.”

  He smiles as his hand moves. I want to move. Closer. I fold my hands into my lap.

  Cash: “Melanie better not make me paint this shit on the building. I don’t even want people to know it
’s mine. This is goddamn ugly.”

  Lilla: He bites on the pencil in between filling in and shading certain parts. Goes back to the markers.

  Melanie: “I’ll be the judge of that.”

  Cash: Melanie walks in, placing a glass of red wine down on the table. The paper is pulled from under my hands. I watch Lilla. Melanie can set the paper on fire for all I care.

  Melanie: “Hmm, a lot better than what I had imagined. You might be on to something here.”

  Lilla: “That was just a few minutes of nonsense. If you gave Cash more time just imagine what it would look like.”

  Melanie: “You don’t have to sell Cash to me. I know how good he is.”

  Cash: I pray Lilla doesn’t read into that. It’s not true. I’d never fuck Melanie Lockhart. Never have never will. Never.

  Lilla: “I was just making a suggestion. Of course Cash’s work speaks for itself.”

  Cash: “Are we doing this or not?”

  Melanie: “I need to talk it over with the owners, but, I’d probably not fill your super busy calendar.”

  Cash: I nod at her sarcasm.

  “I want an advance. Fifty now and fifty later. I gotta eat.”

  Melanie: “We’ll talk after I meet with the owners. I have a friend interested in some of your work, too. I’ll call you with the number this evening. Be a gem and walk Lilla out, won’t you?”

  Cash: Lilla quickly gathers her things. I don’t reach for anything. I don’t make quips. I follow silently and for the first time in my whole life my mouth doesn’t have shit to say. I mean, it has everything in the goddamn world to say, too much—maybe that’s the problem. All of my words are pushing against the crack in the fence at once.

  We’re at her car. She’s putting her things away. There’s no reason for me to be here. She waits for something and so do I, but I am blank.

  She lowers her eyes, turning towards the car. The sweater is too hot and I’m suffocating. My hand rubs at my forehead. She’s gonna leave and that’s it.

  I wasted all of my time.

  I didn’t say anything.

  I became the Adam.

  I let Honey-girl slip away.

  Move asshole.

  “Lilla.” I can only reach her hip from behind, pulling her to turn.