When We Met

by A. L. Jackson

  I caught my breath as he slid on the pair of designer jeans I held out for him, which, of course, fit like a glove.

  When he had them zipped up, I finally looked him in the eye, but I couldn’t help gaping at his lean chest and stomach.

  His gaze stayed fixed on mine as he pulled on the tailored shirt and fastened all but the top three remaining buttons.

  “Chloe.” He stepped into my personal space and I tried to act professional, but I struggled to manage any bit of self-control.

  My fingers were trembling; that was how badly I wanted to touch him. “I . . . I’ve missed you, too.”

  His thumb brushed over my cheek and I closed my eyes to revel in the feel of his skin coming in contact with mine. “So, does that mean yes?”

  Now both hands held my face as he forced me to look at him. “Because not talking to you or seeing you really sucked,” he said. “And I wasn’t exactly sure where we stood . . . after all this was said and done.”

  I swallowed roughly. “Is everything okay at home?”

  A flash of pain registered in his eyes. “It’s getting there. Mom’s back in treatment. I’ll explain more later, because I just want to make today about Fibers and you.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Oblivious to the swirl and chaos around us, we were trapped in our own little bubble. My fingers skimmed around his waist, and his fingers tunneled through my hair. “So, what do you say? Can we try to make this work?”

  “Yes,” I breathed out.

  “Ah hell.” His lips stretched across the space between us to press against mine. “I’ve been miserable without you.”

  He kissed me again, this time more firmly. His fingers grasped the back of my hair securely as if he was unwilling to let me go.

  “God, Blake,” I mumbled, nibbling at his bottom lip. “I’ve been miserable, too.”

  He groaned, deepening the kiss, his tongue licking over my lips and then dipping fully into my mouth. Everything happening around us faded into the background as my fingers fisted the back of his shirt and tugged him nearer.

  For the first time in ever, I didn’t care what anybody else thought. The only thing that mattered was that Blake was here and he wanted to be with me as badly as I wanted to be with him.

  I tore my lips away from his, realizing just how unproductive I’d been in the last several minutes. Especially before a huge event. It was so unlike me.

  I needed to call out the model order. I had a grade to earn and people were counting on me. My stomach tensed, taut with familiar panic, as I attempted to break his hold and smooth down his designer shirt. But Blake tugged me back against him for a final tender kiss.

  Just then I heard a whoop from the middle of the room, and when I looked up, my three roommates, Courtney, Misha, and Indy, were standing there grinning at our display. I walked toward them and they pulled me into a group hug, congratulating me on the store and giggling about Blake. They backed away, saying they’d wait outside to see the show.

  Taking a deep breath, I turned and called the lineup. This was the easy part. The timing and the dress changes were the chaotic parts. But I felt good, like I had this in the bag. I walked up and down the row to be sure clothes were straight and hair was in place on each model.

  When I got to number ten, Blake grinned and laced his fingers through mine, pulling me in for a brief and chaste kiss. “Good luck. You’re going to rock this.”

  • • •

  The show went off without a hitch and I was on a high—feeling so alive and confident in my own skin as I took a bow at the end of the set to roaring applause.

  As the models filtered off the stage and headed to the back room to change, I was surrounded by my roommates and other design students, who had wanted to congratulate me on a job well done.

  The storefront was empty when I walked back inside, but I could still hear the buzz of the crowd from the street and customers combing through the racks that had been brought outside.

  “The show was a hit. Fantastic job,” Jaclyn said, rounding the corner from the dressing area, and my cheeks lifted with the swell of pride. “And what you’ve done to this space is simply amazing.”

  “Thank you,” I said, heading toward her. I heard the door swing open and chatter from customers behind me, but I was riveted by the serious look in Jaclyn’s eyes. There was something else she wanted to say.

  “I know your plan is to move to New York City after you graduate, Chloe. But I want you to know that you have another option, too,” she said, fixing a rack of dresses near the back wall. “I’m willing to offer you the job of managing this store. It belongs to you anyway and I’d like to see if this location takes off.”

  Hearing her offer unleashed a swirling kaleidoscope of emotions inside me. It’d been the first time I’d ever allowed the possibility of having this job as a career inhabit my brain. I really enjoyed the merchandising aspect of running a storefront, but I never saw it as an option for me—and neither did my mother.

  “That’s an incredible compliment,” my mother’s voice rang out from across the room, and my shoulders immediately hunched up. It was the tight, professional sound I’d come to recognize all too well, when she was holding herself back from being something other than polite. “I agree what she did was amazing.”

  She took a deep breath and I knew what was coming next. “But Chloe has classes and schoolwork and will eventually have résumés to fill out with my contacts in New York. I wouldn’t want her to get bogged down with the idea of having to manage an entire store when that’s not what she’s been working toward.”

  “Chloe is excellent on the business side of things,” Jaclyn said, essentially shutting my mother down. Watching two strong women going toe-to-toe was like waiting for the outcome of a tense tennis match. But I was beginning to feel like a child standing there in silence, and I needed to get my mouth unstuck. “I’m her boss and I’d like to give her this opportunity. She can make up her own mind and I’ll respect whatever she decides. And I hope you will, too.”

  For a brief moment I was too dumbfounded to move. But I quickly got my wits about me, because I couldn’t allow Jaclyn to fight my battles for me. If Blake could face the crisis in his family head-on, it was time for me to do the same.

  “Mom, we need to talk,” I said, effectively ending their conversation. I had to face up to my own truths, and now was the perfect opportunity to do it.

  I spun to confront my own mother. The woman who made me my heart tremble and soar at the same time. I always had so much respect for her, but lately she’d become too overbearing. She needed to hear how I felt about how she’d been treating me. I had allowed it to continue for far too long. That blame was all mine.

  Jaclyn simply squeezed my shoulder as she passed, her face set in quiet admiration.

  I inched toward the front of the shop, my feet nearly pasted to the floor. My mother stood perfectly still, her eyebrows creased together in indignation. “How dare she think that I don’t—”

  “She’s right, you know.” My heart was hammering in my chest.

  She stared at me as her face traveled through a series of emotions, from shock to sadness, and finally landing on something that resembled regret.

  “The reason this is the first time you’re seeing the store,” I said, feeling like a traitor to my own mother, “is that I wanted to finally have something of my own.”

  Her shoulders drooped as her head fell forward. I didn’t want to hurt her, but I needed her to know exactly how I’d been feeling.

  “Please understand, Mom,” I said, my voice quavering. “I know you only wanted what was best. I’m so thankful for everything you’ve done for me. But lately . . . you’ve been so insistent . . . pushy . . . and I . . . I should have spoken up sooner.”

  “Oh, honey.” She stepped forward suddenly and pulled me into a hug. “I’m sorry. What have I done? I must have really gone overboard if you didn’t even want to share what you’d been working on with me.
We used to tell each other everything.”

  “I did want to share it,” I said, tears burning the back of my throat. “Just not until after it was completed. I wanted you . . . to be proud of me. Proud of what I’d accomplished on my own.”

  “I am proud of you. Very proud,” she said, squeezing tighter. “It’s just . . . I felt you pulling away from me. And I guess I tried holding on tighter. It’s like I blinked and you became this responsible young adult. I . . . I was afraid you wouldn’t need me anymore.”

  “I’ll always need you, Mom,” I whispered. “Always. But you need to give me the space to make my own decisions . . . and mistakes.”

  “I’m beginning to understand that,” she said, her voice clogged with emotion. “I . . . I’ll support whatever you choose to do with your life, Chloe.”

  “You don’t know how relieved I am to hear you say that.” When I opened my eyes, I saw Blake headed from the back room with a handful of models, looking unsure of whether he should even approach.

  “Blake!” I called over to him.

  My mother released her hold to look behind her. “Is that him?”

  “What . . . What do you mean?”

  “The boy you’ve been spending all of your time with?” she said with a half smile. “I wasn’t born yesterday, you know.”

  “Mom, this is Blake,” I said as I motioned for him to join us. “He’s worked just as hard on this space as I did. For weeks, he helped me bring it all together. All of the shelves were built by hand.”

  “Very impressive,” my mother said.

  “It’s your daughter who’s impressive.” Blake smiled at me and then shot out his hand. “Nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “Have you?” Surprise filtered through my mother’s eyes, quickly followed by relief—maybe that I didn’t totally disregard her, after all.

  “It’s a pleasure, Blake,” she said. Then she turned to me. “I’d better head back out there to the other committee members. How about dinner on Sunday? Maybe Blake can join us.”

  Even though I knew she probably just wanted to find out more about him, I was secretly thrilled at her offer.

  “Thank you,” Blake said. “I’d like that.”

  As my mother left the shop, Blake moved behind me and slid his arms around my waist. “Are you okay?” He pulled me firmly against him.

  I smiled. “I’m actually pretty darn good.”

  As a group of customers entered the store, Blake spun me around and gave me a heated kiss that was too short for my liking.

  “When can I get you alone?” he whispered against my lips, and my skin prickled with longing.

  “Let’s meet back here later tonight,” I said, and his eyes ignited with desire. “I think we have a runway to christen.”

  Please read on for a look at

  COME TO ME RECKLESSLY,

  the next irresistible New Adult romance

  in A. L. Jackson’s Closer to You series,

  available from New American Library in April 2015.

  Samantha

  My phone rang with the special chime, the one reserved just for him. I rummaged around for it in my purse, which was tucked in the basket at the front of the cart as I was browsing through the aisles of Target. The grin taking over my entire face was completely uncontrollable. I just couldn’t help it. Talking with him—seeing him—was always the highlight of my day.

  Running my thumb across the plate, I clicked the icon where his message waited. I’d never even heard of the app until he’d convinced me I had to get it, teasing me I was living in the Stone Ages, which to him I was pretty sure would date all the way back to 2011. I couldn’t begin to keep up with all the tech stuff he loved.

  I held my finger down on the new, unread Snapchat message from gamelover745.

  An image popped up on the screen, his face all contorted in the goofiest expression, pencils hanging from both his nostrils as he bared his teeth. I choked over a little laugh. The joy I felt every time I saw his face was almost overwhelming as it merged with the twinge of sorrow that tugged at my chest.

  Quickly, I shoved the feeling off. He told me he couldn’t stand for me to look at him or think of him with pity. I had to respect that. He was so much braver than me, because seeing him this way made me feel so weak.

  I forced myself not to fixate on his bald head and pale skin, and instead focused on the antics of this playful boy. The little timer ran down, alerting me I only had five more seconds of the picture, so I quickly read the messy words he scrawled across the picture.

  I’m sexy and I know it.

  On a muted giggle, I shook my head, and I didn’t hesitate for a second to lift my phone above my head to snap my own picture. Going for my silliest expression, I crossed my eyes and stuck my tongue out to the side.

  So maybe the people milling around me in the middle of the busy store thought I was crazy, or some kind of delusional narcissist, but there was no place inside of me that cared. I’d do anything to see him smile.

  I tapped the button so I could write on the picture.

  Love you, goofball.

  I pushed SEND.

  Seconds later, my phone chimed again. I pressed down the plate to receive his message. This time he was just smiling that unending smile, sitting cross-legged in the middle of his bed, radiating all his beauty and positivity, and that sorrow hit me again, only this time harder.

  Love you back.

  Letting the timer wind down, I clutched my phone as I cherished his message for the full ten seconds, before our snap expired. The screen went blank. I bit at the inside of my lip, blinking back tears.

  Don’t, I warned myself, knowing how quickly I could spiral into depression, into a worry I couldn’t control, one that would taint the precious time I had with him.

  Sucking in a cleansing breath, I tossed my phone back into my purse and wandered over to the cosmetics section, taking my time, browsing through all the shades and colors of lip gloss. I tossed a shimmery clear one into my cart, then strolled into the shampoo aisle.

  Apparently I was in no hurry to get home. It was sad and pathetic, yet here I was, twenty-three years old and passing away my Friday night at a Target.

  Ben had texted me earlier saying he was going out to grab a beer with the guys and not to wait up for him. All kinds of warning bells had gone off in my head when I realized him leaving me alone for the night only filled me with an overwhelming relief. And that realization hurt my heart, because he’d always been good to me, there for me when I was broken and needed someone to pick up the pieces, patching me up and making me smile when I thought I never would again.

  But with Ben? There had always been something missing. Something significant.

  That flame.

  The kind that lights you up inside when the one walks into the room. You know the one, the one you can’t get off your mind, whether you’ve known him your entire life or he just barreled into it.

  Was it wrong I craved one?

  Maybe I’d be content if I’d never felt it before. If I’d never known what it was like to need and desire.

  But I had. It’d been the kind of fire that had raged and consumed, burning through me until there was nothing left but ashes. I’d thought that love had ruined me, until Ben came in and swept me into his willing arms.

  He’d taken care of me, a fact I didn’t take lightly. I honored and respected the way Ben honored and respected me.

  So maybe I never looked the same or felt the same after he’d destroyed something inside of me. But I’d survived and forced myself to find satisfaction with that, willed it to make me stronger instead of feeble and frail.

  I tossed a bottle of shampoo I really didn’t need into my cart, but it smelled all kinds of good, like coconut and the sweetest flower, and today I didn’t feel like questioning my motives. In fact, I tossed in some body wash for good measure. I rarely treated myself, and I figured today I deserved it. The last four years had been spent working my ass off,
striving toward my elementary-education degree at Arizona State University, and I’d finally landed my first real job a month ago.

  Pride shimmered around my consciousness. Not the arrogant kind. I was just . . . happy. Happy for what I’d achieved.

  I bit at the inside of my lip, doing my best to contain the ridiculous grin I felt pulling at my mouth.

  Ben was always the one who took care of me. But he also took all the credit. Like my life would be miserable without him in it.

  Finally . . . finally . . . I’d attained something that was all on me.

  Slowly, I wound my way up toward the registers. I needed to get out of here before I drained what little I had in my checking account with all my celebrating.

  I rolled my eyes at myself and squashed the mocking laughter that rolled up my throat.

  Yep, livin’ large and partying hard.

  My life was about as exciting as Friday night bingo at the retirement home down the street.

  But hey, at least my hair would smell good and my lips would taste even better.

  Scanning the registers, I hunted for the shortest line, when my eyes locked on a face that was familiar but just out of reach of my recognition. Curiosity captured all of my heed, and I found I couldn’t look away.

  She was standing at the front of her cart, her attention cast behind her, searching. Obviously, searching for someone.

  I stared, unabashed, craning my head to the side as I tried to place the striking green eyes and long black hair. She was gorgeous, enough to make any supermodel feel self-conscious, but she was wearing the kind of smile that spoke a thousand welcomes.

  Two feet in front of her, I came to a standstill, which only caused her warm smile to spread when her gaze landed on me.

  My attention flitted to the empty infant car seat latched onto the basket before it darted back to her face.