Pink Shades of Words: Walk 2016

by Anthology

  "Oh, God, no!" Michelle exclaimed in horror, imagining, I was sure, all the ways her grandma could think of to embarrass her if given a full and uninterrupted hour. Then, her face flushing as the harsh words hung in the air, she softened. "I mean...we really need to get back to campus. Like...really. But I'll be back on Saturday morning to help with chores. I promise."

  "I'm gonna hold you to that, doll. Now, run along. You and your young man go have fun."

  Michelle looked like she wanted to die. I, on the other hand, was on top of the world.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Michelle

  "Okay, girl," Brandy said, taking the book I was holding out of my hands and setting it aside. "You've scanned that book three times now. I think it's safe to say it's well and truly checked in."

  I rubbed my fingertips against my temples in a vain attempt to clear my head. "Sorry, Bran. I'm in a fog, I guess."

  She winked slyly. "A fog named Sebastian, I'm guessing?"

  "Oh, God!" I dropped into one of the creaky, cast-aside office chairs that had been relegated to the back room of the library where the check-ins were processed and categorized for reshelving. I buried my face in my hands.

  Brandy sat in the similarly broken-down chair opposite me and eagerly rubbed her palms together. "Wow. If this story requires all of those dramatics, I certainly can't wait to hear it."

  I smiled ruefully at her. "No. It's nothing like that. I'm just frustrated. Mostly with myself. Oh, and confused. Don't forget confused."

  "I would never," she laughed. "So, what's so frustrating? What's so confusing?"

  I took a deep breath. As much as Sebastian had been on my mind, thoughts of him swirling around my brain with dizzying speed, I had yet to try to distill my feelings into words.

  "It's just that...he's so...perfect."

  "Oh, yeah," Brandy deadpanned. "I can see how that would be a real problem."

  "Well, smartass, it is. Or, at least, my reaction to it is. Because everything he's said, everything he's done, has been one hundred percent the stuff of fantasies. Like, I couldn't even dream up a better guy than him."

  "Don't forget what he looks like. I could construct a couple of fantasies based on those abs."

  "Or those baby blues," I agreed. "I know! He's hot, he's sweet, he's funny, he's..."

  "Perfect," Brandy filled in.

  "Exactly. I mean, hell. I've read thousands of books in my life. I've probably read every novel on these library shelves. Some of them more than once. And, in every one where the guy was even half as fan-freaking-tastic as Sebastian is, I was mentally screaming at the girl through the whole thing. 'Wise up, bitch! Can't you see what you're missing out on?' But, when it comes to me, I can't seem to relax and trust it. To trust him. What the hell is wrong with me?"

  "Well, maybe nothing is. Let's try to figure this thing out," she said pragmatically.

  I was grateful. Her no-nonsense, efficient approach to things made her a fantastic coworker and an even better friend.

  "So, what's happened in the last couple of days that's made you feel so much more strongly about all of this and about him?"

  I gave her a quick rundown of the broken-down-car rescue operation, the grocery shopping, and how wonderfully easy and charming he had been with my grandma, even when she had been saying things that should have, by all rights, embarrassed the shit out of him.

  "Wow. That is kind of 'hero material' stuff," she said.

  "Oh, and that's not even all!" I continued. "After I hustled him out of there and he took me back to campus, he looked under my hood—"

  "Ooooooh la la," Brandy singsonged.

  I laughed. "Not like that, perv. I'm talking about my car."

  "Well, that's not quite as fun. But very impressive. And it definitely adds to the dreamboat-hero column," she conceded.

  "Yeah. He figured out that it was just a dead battery. I must have left my lights on the last time I parked. So he gave me a jump—"

  "Rawr," she growled in a low, seductive voice.

  "Ohmigod, seriously, stop," I laughed. "He gave my car a jump from his truck's battery. And then he rode around with me while I drove it for half an hour to get the battery all juiced up and started it a few times when we got back to make sure it worked."

  "Seriously, Michelle? That's amazing. He's obviously a stand-up guy. And you're clearly head-over-heels attracted to him. So, why aren't you, like, ready to marry him?"

  "Yeah...I know. That's the problem right there. I have no fricking idea what's holding me back. It's nothing to do with him, and it's nothing to do with my feelings for him. It's something to do with me. And I don't know what that is."

  "You know what we need?"

  ”I wish I did. But, nope.”

  "More brains trying to solve the problem. You're coming to ATB on Sunday night, right?"

  I nodded. "ATB" was short for "Around the Bend," the nickname we had given the study group that consisted of me, Brandy, Sandy, and their roommates Evelyn and Cat. Well, it had started out as a study group, at any rate, and we still called it that to make ourselves feel more productive. But, early on, it had evolved into a regularly scheduled "hang and gossip" sesh, and I loved it.

  "I'll be there."

  "Well, maybe the girls will be able to succeed where we've failed. Maybe they can help unsnarl this problem."

  I breathed a sigh of relief, the slightest ray of hope breaking through the fog in my brain. "I hope so. I feel like, by not being able to relax and accept what's happening with Sebastian, there's a possibility that I'm missing out on something really great. Like, maybe the greatest thing that will ever happen to me. But I just can't make myself do it. My subconscious is holding something back and I don't know why. So, if the girls can help me whip my brain into shape in time to not lose out on the best guy I've ever met—or even read about, for that matter—that would be freaking amazing."

  Brandy slipped her arm around my shoulder. "Absolutely! Don't give up hope. All's not lost, babe. Never underestimate the problem-solving power of a group of motivated girls with an unlimited supply of snacks and wine coolers."

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Michelle

  I pulled up to Grandma Trudy's house on Saturday morning, my mind still buzzing with thoughts of Sebastian. I wondered if he thought about me a fraction of as much as I thought about him, and I was surprised at the powerful ache that blossomed in my chest. It was melancholy hope, the combination of desire for it to be true that he was as wrapped up in me as I was in him—and the simultaneous doubt that it could possibly be true.

  I was so distracted by my interior musings that I barely even noticed my grandmother sitting in the middle of the front yard, in a lawn chair she must have dragged around from the back, her hands in their normal state—full of a drink and a ciggie. I stopped short, trying to process the sight. She wasn't even facing the street, which would have made some sort of weird sense. Maybe that would’ve meant she was relaxing and watching the neighborhood go by. But, rather, she had angled the reclining garden furniture so that it was facing the front door.

  The fuck?

  "Hey, Grandma. What are you doing?" I asked carefully. If this was indicative of the first stages of dementia, I didn't want to freak her out by overreacting.

  "Hey, doll. How you doin', baby girl? Look who stopped by." She made a sloshing upward gesture with the hand that held the drink.

  I followed where she’d indicated with my gaze, trepidation filling me as panicked thoughts raced through my brain. Is she talking about God? Or an alien? If she's losing it, how am I going to handle that by myself? I'm just a kid!

  By the time my gaze reached its destination, though, I knew I wasn't going to have to worry about any of that. What I saw as I inclined my neck was the one and only Sebastian Winters. Up on a ladder. Painting my grandma's second-floor shutters.

  Without his shirt on.

  Swoon.

  "Hey, Miche." He grinned brightly.

  Oh, God. How cou
ld I be expected to think clearly while those rippling, defined abs were on such glorious display? To add insult to injury, he had adorable—no, make that sexy—flecks of paint all over his bare chest and his torso.

  Holy. Shit.

  Somewhere, there might have been some girl who could have kept an even head in the face of a paint-splattered and half-naked Sebastian Winters, but I was certainly not that girl. Not even close.

  "Hey," I breathed. "What are you doing?"

  "Well, I remembered you said you were comin' over here this morning to help with chores, so I thought I'd pop by and help. Then Trudy told me—"

  "I told you, doll. Call me Grandma Trudy."

  "Sorry. Grandma Trudy told me that her shutters and trim needed a fresh coat of paint real bad."

  "Grandma, you didn't!" I cried, my stomach clenching.

  She shrugged. "It isn't every day I get able-bodied young men showing up on my doorstep out of the blue, offering to help me with chores. What am I, an idiot? I may not know what you actually do with a gift horse, but I know what you don't do, and that's look it in the mouth."

  "But, Grandma, he was just being polite," I growled through gritted teeth.

  She repeated the shrug and then gestured up at him again, her drink sloshing around the glass. "Clearly not."

  Sebastian climbed down from the ladder and came over to join us. "Seriously, Miche. It's no trouble. I'm glad to do it. Your grandma is great."

  "Thanks, doll. You're pretty swell yourself."

  My brain felt fuzzy and disconnected, and I was afraid I might pass out. Shit! I was so tired of feeling out of control where he was concerned. There was no other option, I had to get to the bottom of this.

  I grabbed him by the arm and dragged him around the side of the house and to the backyard. "Come on. We need to talk."

  "That's what I've been saying for a while now." He grinned.

  "Grandma, we'll be back in a second!" I called over my shoulder.

  She raised her glass to me and nodded before taking a slug of the whiskey. When Sebastian and I reached the side gate, I unlatched it and pushed him through. Then I led him to the porch swing on the back deck, which faced the meadow and lush grove of pine trees my grandmother's house backed up to.

  We sat in silence for a moment, listening to the early morning birds chirp as I tried to collect my thoughts. I was surprised to see how quickly the momentum I had marched him back here with had fizzled when it came to the point where I actually had to say something. Coming up with the right words was a lot tougher, it turned out, than just making a grand pronouncement about the need to "talk."

  Finally, he broke the impasse by brushing a stray chunk of hair behind my ear. "You're adorable when you concentrate," he said.

  When I turned to face him, I saw that expression I loved—that I've never seen anything as cute as you are in this moment expression that made me feel like the prettiest, and luckiest, girl on the planet.

  I closed my eyes. "What is this?" I whispered.

  His voice was even, unruffled. "This is Saturday morning chores, darlin'."

  It seemed like nothing ever got to him.

  I opened my eyes and looked straight into his. "No. I mean...what is this, all of this, about? Why are you here? Is this about flirting with me? Is that what you're doing?"

  "Darlin', if you're not even sure if I'm flirting with you, then something is most definitely wrong. I haven't been exactly subtle. But let me make it even clearer for you: Yes."

  "Yes?"

  "Yes. As in, yes, I am flirting with you. Yes, I want to get to know you better. Yes, I am smitten as hell with you. And, finally, yes, I am definitely going to kiss you right now."

  My eyes widened, and my mouth went dry. "Really?"

  "Most definitely."

  With that, Sebastian leaned his head down and gently pressed his lips to mine.

  My brain exploded into a thousand sparkles as his mouth moved against me. Heat flashed through me from head to toe, and I was overwhelmed with sensation. I slipped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer to me as I lost myself in the sweetest and most mind-altering kiss I had ever experienced.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Sebastian

  I pulled back from Michelle's sweet lips and stroked her hair. Her eyes were wide, and her face was flushed. She was breathing hard and trembling. Fuck, she was beautiful. I loved her toughness, but I especially loved the moments when her vulnerability peeked through. That was special because it wasn't something she let just anybody see.

  "God...why do you like me?" she blurted out. She reeled back, stunned, as if she had shocked herself by saying it.

  I laughed a little, thinking she must have been joking. "Why wouldn't I like you?"

  "Because...look at you. And look at me. Guys like you are not generally attracted to girls like me. Is this some kind of bet or dare? Because I've seen that nineties teen rom-com in all of its forms, just like everyone else."

  Whoa. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I had been under the impression that she felt like she was too cool for me—not the other way around! "No! God! It's nothing like that. Why would you even think that?"

  "Okay, well, then is it some kind of librarian fetish? Like, you think one day I'm going to shake my hair out and take my glasses off and be instantly transformed into the gorgeous supermodel that was somehow always hiding underneath my bookish façade? Because I've seen that porn, too. And, frankly, if that's what you're waiting for, you're going to be waiting a long time. That's not real life."

  I brushed her hair out of her face. She closed her eyes and drew in her breath sharply.

  I leaned close to her and whispered, "Not only do I not fantasize about you taking your glasses off, I kinda think you should leave them on. Don't get me wrong. You're cute as hell without them too. But I see now that I never gave them proper credit for how hot they are. They're very you. And you're sexy as all get out.”

  I rubbed my thumb against her cheek as I spoke. When she tilted her head to the side, almost imperceptibly pressing her face into my hand, I knew I was getting through to her—even if it was just a little bit. So I pressed on.

  "Now, I'll grant you this: Girls like you don't usually end up with guys like me. But that doesn't make one tiny bit of difference to our situation. You know why? Because I'm not 'guys like me.' I'm just me. And you're not 'girls like you.' You're just you. And 'just me' thinks 'just you' is pretty damn spectacular."

  She opened her eyes and looked pleadingly into mine. "But that's the thing. That's my question. Why? Why do you think that? I'm being serious!"

  I nodded. Insecurity simmered behind her eyes, making her vulnerable. She had never shown me that side before, and I was willing to bet that she rarely showed anyone that side. It broke my heart and made me want to protect her from anything or anyone who might hurt her. I needed her to know that, as long as I was around, no one would ever have the chance. They'd have to go through me first.

  I dropped my default teasing tone. "All right, then. A serious question deserves a serious response. Reasons Why I Like Michelle: Part One. Note: The creator of this list reserves the right to add to it on a daily, if not hourly, basis. Number one: the most unpredictable damn things come out of your mouth. Ninety-nine percent of the world is as predictable as if they were reading a script, but you are one of a kind. And it gives me an actual physical craving, like a hunger, to know what the next thing you're gonna say will be that absolutely knocks my socks off.

  "Number two: I've never seen anyone light up about anything the way you light up when you talk about books. The way your eyes spark with fire from inside when you recommend a story to somebody in the library or even just talk about what you're reading to someone when we're in class. Your skin glows with it. You're so alive at that moment that it makes me feel more alive just to see it.

  "Number three: well, damn. I was about to talk about how gorgeous your eyes are, but then I thought...no, her dimples are my favorite fe
ature. But the thought of your dimples brought to mind your smile, and of course, then I thought that was my favorite. But, just as I was about to settle on your smile, I remembered your long, graceful fingers and how, every time I look at them, all I can think about is you touching me and what that would feel like and look like. That, of course, made me realize I hadn't added all of your, shall we say, sexier parts to the list of my favorite attributes. So, now, I'm realizing I should just go with...number three: you are one helluva beautiful woman, and I'd be honored to have you by my side." I gave her my best devilish smile. "Or in my bed.

  "Number four—"

  I never got a chance to tell her what number four—or any of the rest of the numbers up into the thousands—were. She stopped me by pressing her lips against mine and kissing me in a desperate frenzy, those beautiful, elegant fingers buried in my hair. And, before too long, I couldn't even formulate that list anymore if I'd been asked to. It flew right out of my brain.

  That wasn't important though. The only thing that mattered was that it was still written in my heart, and nothing could ever change that.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Michelle

  "So, holy shit. You've been talking to Sebastian Winters!" Sandy burst out before I had even fully walked through their door.

  Wow. Welcome to ATB.

  "Damn, Sandy. At least let her set her books down before you pounce," their roommate, Cat, laughed as she cleared a place on her desk for me to set my messenger bag.

  "I honestly don't know why you persist in the fiction that we are actually going to study here by lugging that heavy messenger bag to our room every time you come over," their fourth roommate, Evelyn, dryly observed. "At this point, we don't really need to pretend that this is a study group. You can feel free to accept the fact that the studying part of this is out the window and we’re just hanging out."

  "I just like to keep my options open," I protested. "We always meet up in your guys' room because you have one of the super suites and it's so much more comfortable. But that means that, if we did suddenly decide to study, you'd all be prepared. And I wouldn't. And I really like to be prepared."

  "Agreed," Brandy said solemnly.