The Promise

by River Laurent

  She’s still standing where I left her, against the wall, arms crossed. I can’t read her expression.

  “Sorry, but that guy’s bad news,” I say with a shrug. “You can’t expect me to meet somebody like him and not want to kill him just for touching you. I took it easy on him. I could probably snap him like a dry twig.”

  She opens her mouth like she wants to speak, but no words come out. Shit. Just when things were going well. It looks like she’s spoiling for a fight, which come to think of it is just fine. I like her kicking and clawing anyway and we’ll just end it the way the way I like to end all my fights with her.

  Maybe I don’t know her as well as I used to anymore because she throws herself into my arms, and wraps her hands around my neck in a death grip. “Thank you!”

  This is unexpected. “You’re happy about this?”

  “Are you kidding? I’ve wanted to do that for years! I just don’t have the upper body strength.”

  I laugh. “I thought you were about to bitch me out for being an overprotective, jealous meathead.”

  Her eyes go wide, then narrow as she practically purrs. “What if I like overprotective, jealous meatheads?”

  “Oh, yeah? Why didn’t you say so?” In a flash, I bend down and throw her over my shoulder. She squeals and giggles, half-heartedly fighting me off as I carry her up the stairs. By the time I drop her onto the bed, she’s not laughing anymore. Instead, she takes me by the arms and pulls me down until I’m on top of her and we’re kissing and touching, and it’s even better than before because I’m hyped up after our performance together and I know she is too.

  My veins are full of fire.

  I slide one hand under her sweater, and I know I’ll never get enough of touching her soft, smooth skin. Once I asked her how she gets it that smooth and she laughed and joked that she bathed in asses milk. She was always like a fantasy come true. From the first day I found her in the treehouse.

  She writhes and sighs, arching her back, asking for more without saying a word. My hand closes over her breast and I squeeze gently, hardening when she moans into my mouth. I feel her nipple hardening against my palm. My fingertips dance over the lace trimming the cup of her bra and she strains upward until I pull the cup down to trace slow circles around that tight nipple with my thumb.

  I break our kiss to run my mouth over her jaw and down her neck. Her pulse races under my tongue as I taste her. She’s so sweet. Her fingers run through my hair and she holds my head close. I take the hint and kiss her harder, letting her scent and taste and the sound of her sighs pull me under until I don’t know anymore where I end and she begins. She’s always been part of me. I know that now.

  I take my time undressing her, exploring every inch of her body. I want to give her every bit of pleasure she can handle and more. I want her to scream my name and beg me to stop because she doesn’t think her body can take it, then push her farther than she’s ever gone. I want her to need me the way I need her.

  “Cole … yes …” Her eyes are closed, her head rolling from side to side as I peel off her panties and settle between her thighs. Her heat calls to me, drawing me in, promising bliss. She runs her hands under the back of my shirt, pulling it up over my head, kissing my shoulders and chest and arms. I close my eyes and let the pressure from her lips erase the past, the empty years spent without her. It’s like half my heart was missing all this time.

  Her legs tighten around my waist, and I’m just about ready to break the zipper on my jeans, I’m so hard and aching to be inside her again. She claws at my shoulders and back, breathing heavy, moaning and whispering and begging for more. “Please … take me …” she whispers, staring up into my eyes. “I need you inside me, Cole … please …”

  I strip off my pants, my hands shaking with urgency. I can’t breathe, I can’t even think about anything but sinking deep into her. Her eyes practically glow in the dark, staring into my soul, mouth open as she gasps when I slide home and bury my length in her tight sheath.

  This is what I need. This is all I’ve ever needed. The two of us, together as one, moving in sync as we push each other higher. Her legs wrap around my hips and pull me deeper, her hands moving up and down my back, gripping my ass, clawing my neck and shoulders the first time she comes. “So good …” she whispers in my ear between gasps for breath.

  It is so good. She’s right about that.

  I push up on my hands and look down at her moving under me, undulating like a wave in time with my thrusts. She stretches up to brush her lips against mine, whimpering, and I return her kiss. We move slowly, grinding against each other, working together the way we did onstage. We don’t have to talk things through.

  We just know each other.

  I want to savor this. I want it to go on forever, the perfection of our bodies wrapped up together, the sound of her moans and the way she cries out my name as she comes, pulsing around my length, begging me to follow her.

  I can’t. Not yet.

  I clench my jaw and close my eyes and hold on until she calms down, then start again.

  “Oh, God!” she gasps, trembling, “Yes! Please, Cole … please …!” She jerks her hips in time with my thrusts and picks up speed. I follow her now, letting her drive me as crazy as I’ve been driving her. I slide my arms under her shoulders and roll onto my back, still inside her.

  She rocks her hips back and forth, faster and faster. I can’t hold back anymore. I’m past the point of no return now. I take her by the waist and hold her still, as I slam into her with deep, hard thrusts. She throws her head back, her cries become louder and louder the closer she gets. I watch her breasts bouncing, her hair trailing over my fingers. Everything is her, all around me. I’m lost. She’s all that exists.

  I feel her tightening around me again and I know she’s as close as I am. We move in a blur, faster and faster until we explode in each other’s arms and she collapses on top of me, shaking.

  “Oh … oh, God … Cole …” Her voice shakes as hard as her body. A fierce joy fills my body to know I’m the reason she’s a wreck now. I did that.

  Her hair is damp with sweat. I smooth it back from her forehead and press my lips against her overheated skin. “You okay?” I ask.

  “I feel like my heart’s about to pound out of my chest, but otherwise? Yeah. I’m fine.” She smiles before kissing me. We stay in each other’s arms, the air heavy with the smell of sex. If only I could stop this moment from ending, then we would never end.

  I touch the moisture on her cheek. She tells me it is sweat, though it looks a lot like tears. She turns her face away before I can ask again if she’s all right.

  Taylor

  17 Years Old

  I don’t dress fancy for most occasions, but today is different. I sit in front of my mirror and carefully apply a thin coat of mascara to my eyelashes. My stepmother appears in the doorway of my bedroom.

  “Do you need any help?” she asks.

  I turn to look at her with surprise. She has had no interest in my life, or development until now. I walk to the door. Even at this moment I can feel the hate radiating out of her. “No, thanks. I need to get dressed,” I tell her before shutting the door gently. She can’t wait to see me gone. Well, I won’t let her drain my excitement. I will be gone. She is welcome to this house.

  Calmly I walk over to my closet and pull a long, sleek black plastic protector from the hanging rod. Holding it above my head I go over to the bed and lay it flat. I unzip the case, revealing the most beautiful cold-shoulder, red dress I have ever purchased. I am obsessed with the single shoulder style and I couldn’t believe how perfect it was when I saw it in the shop window. I used the money I saved from all the gigs I’ve worked in the past year. Even so I didn’t have enough to afford it, but Cole insisted on helping pay for half, so I managed to buy it two months ago.

  I look at the dress before me and my smile widens tenfold. I’ve dreamed about this moment my entire life and it’s finally happening. At one of our
wdeekly performances at Artie’s, a local bar/restaurant, a recording company representative who was passing through heard us. He asked if Cole and I would audition for a record deal. A bigwig would be travelling down specially to see us. And now, we must nail the audition to have a chance.

  I slip into the dress, which reaches a little above my knees. It hugs the curves of my body in all the right places and makes me look like I’m all grown-up. Suddenly, I feel nervous and light-headed. This is my big moment. The opportunity I have been waiting for all my life. What if I don’t make it? All my dreams will be shattered.

  I grab my phone, hit Cole’s number, and put it on speaker while I slip into my high-heeled shoes. We’re supposed to meet in the choir hall at the school, but I need to hear his voice. Cole has always been an expert at keeping me calm.

  It rings multiple times before going to voicemail, and my heart pounds a little louder in my ears. I am teeming with nervousness, excitement, and fear. I go and stand in front of the mirror.

  My eyes are bright and my face looks pale. I quickly rub a little blusher into the apple of my cheeks. Then I straighten my shoulders. Why should I be nervous? Singing is what I do best. Even if I mess up, I will never give up. As soon as I turn eighteen I will leave this house and find my fortune. No matter what I will become famous.

  I try calling Cole once more to no avail. I hear Rebecca, my friend’s car honk outside. Shaking my head and staring at my illuminated phone screen, I open my bedroom door and make my way to the front door.

  “Good luck. It’s your great dream so I hope they give you a contract,” I hear from behind me.

  I turn toward my stepmother. In that moment, I realize I don’t hate her. I don’t even blame her for hating me. My dad shouldn’t have forced her to take custody of me. It was not fair.

  “Thank you,” I respond and walk out the door.

  On the way to the school, I am too hyped to even make conversation with Rebecca. My heart races and my hands shake. Rebecca pulls into the school and I take a deep breath. Seeing Cole’s car in the car park calms me slightly, but I need him. He’s my anchor.

  Rebecca asks if I need a lift back, but I tell her Cole will take me home. Then I open the car door and make my way to the front door of the school. There I stop dead in my tracks, my hand on the cool metal handle.

  Taylor

  Present Day

  “There’s something I think I should tell you,” Cole says.

  My head pops up from where I was resting it on his chest. “Oh, no. You’re pregnant.”

  His laughter rings through the bedroom. “You got me. I was gonna pretend the baby was yours and use you for child support for the next eighteen years.”

  “I’m too smart for you.” I grin.

  His smile fades a little, but not entirely. “Seriously. There’s something I want to talk about.”

  Hmm. Seriously, huh? I don’t know if I like the sound of this. Conversations that start like this don’t go well for me, historically. I sit up, pulling myself from the delicious warmth of his embrace, gathering the blankets around me. “What is it?” I ask in a tight whisper.

  “Hey, it’s nothing bad—at least, I don’t think it’s bad. I may be jumping the gun a bit, but I can’t pretend it’s not there.”

  Relief makes me laugh. “What’s not there?”

  He reaches for me, sliding a gentle hand down the side of my face, over my shoulder, down my arm. “The complete certainty that I can’t let you go. Not again.”

  I gasp. No, that’s not what I expected at all. “Oh, Cole.”

  “I don’t want to scare you off, but—”

  I take his hand in both of mine. “A part of me is wildly happy, but another part of me is terrified. After what happened the last time.”

  He snatches his hand out of my grip and lays two fingers against my lips to silence me, shaking his head, his eyes full of sadness and remorse. “Can we not talk about the past for once. I was just a kid, Taylor. I made the wrong choice. Everyone deserves a second chance. Even me.” He pauses and takes a deep breath. “I’m a man now. I know exactly what I want. And that is you.”

  “But how? My life is in LA and yours is here.”

  “I don’t know yet how we will sort this, but if it’s what you want too, I’ll make it happen. I promise you that.”

  I pull away from him. My heart is so heavy. I should be exploding with joy. He wants me. He doesn’t want to let me go. He just said so himself, but I can’t forget how easily he let me go the last time. How little his promises meant. He was my whole world and I truly thought nothing could break us up. But he shattered that trust and I don’t know how to repair it. It is like a broken antique vase that you stick back together because you can’t bear to throw something so rare and valuable away, but all the crack lines are still there to remind you of the time it smashed on the ground. To tell you that it has lost all its value.

  “What is it?” he asks huskily.

  I cover my face with one hand. I can’t show him my vulnerability or my pain and hurt that in the end, everyone I ever loved abandoned me. I just can’t trust anyone. Especially, him.

  “Taylor?” he prompts.

  “Nothing. I’m just not good at relationships. I’ve been a mess for such a long time.”

  “A mess?” He sits up and his tone of voice changes to one of raw concern. “What do you mean? You’re the least messy person I know.”

  I stare at him from between my fingers. He looks so sincere, so worried about me. I let my hand fall from my face and my voice is flat. “You’ve only been with me for a day, Cole. There’s a lot you don’t know.”

  “Is there something I don’t know about? Something unhealthy, maybe?” He’s trying to be subtle, but I know what he means. It’s the business I am in. Simon is a good representative of the kind of people who populate show business.

  “No, it’s not that. I’m not, like, blowing thousands a week, and shooting it in my arm or anything. I don’t even drink very much. I’m probably the only person I know who doesn’t. Sometimes they act like I’m from another planet, or like I think I’m better than them. I’m sure there are some who assume I’m in recovery. I don’t care if that’s what they think, as long as they leave me alone about it.”

  “So what’s the problem, then? You live a good life, you’re responsible, you have the world at your fingertips. Why are you in a mess?”

  I sit there, blinking, mute with disbelief. Can he be this naïve? He’s such a savvy person otherwise, Mr. CEO, Mr. Confident. Mr. I Walk Into A Room And Panties Melt. He just doesn’t understand because it didn’t happen to him. He was not the person with the broken heart. Oh, what will my therapist think when she hears about me diving headfirst into old patterns?

  “Come on, babe. What’s really on your mind? You know you can tell me. You can tell me anything.”

  I know he means it, too, which somehow makes it worse. He wants me to feel comfortable opening up to him, even when there’s no way to put my feelings into words.

  He frowns and falls silent for a while. Then, he asks, “Are you disappointed? Is it too much pressure?”

  There is so much I want to say: I want to say, No, until I was with you tonight, up there onstage, even I didn’t’ know what it was. You’re the piece I’ve been missing all along. Ever since that day at the audition, when I lost you, I lost the real reason I loved performing. Nothing is as fun as it used to be.

  In the beginning when everything was still so new and there was so much to see and learn, I could fool myself into thinking all my dreams were coming true. When that got old, and it did very quickly, I realized I didn’t feel fulfilled. Something was missing. I told myself I was being immature and ungrateful, that I was one of the luckiest girl’s alive. I was living my dream and there were millions of girls out there who would give their right arm to be in my situation.

  So I should just damn well get over myself.

  Well, you proved tonight that there is nothing to get ove
r. I’m not immature or ungrateful. I was the little goat who was starving to death while everyone around me was filling my plate with fillet mignon. You were what I needed. When you turned your back on me and left me alone, you took away everything that ever really mattered.

  But I don’t say any of these things.

  “Pretty much,” I whisper over the sound of my aching heart. I can’t tell him what I’m really feeling. He would never understand.

  When he reaches for me, I let myself rest in his arms. It’s been so long since I’ve had the chance to rest, to really rest. No pretense, no façade. I can be myself. I can relax and let it all go.

  “You know,” he whispers as his hand gently strokes my hair. So soothing. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. You’re a grown woman, and you probably have plenty of money by now. I hope you’ve been smart with it.”

  “Of course. Super smart. I’m doing well.”

  “That’s great. See? You don’t have to keep recording and touring. You can retire. Pursue something else. You’re young, you have the rest of your life to do what you really want to do. And if you feel like playing housewife I’m in the market for one of those too,” he says with a wry smile.

  I love performing with you, but you already told me years ago that you don’t need it. You’re already rich, right? I will myself not to go stiff in his arms and give myself away. “I love performing though,” I say softly.

  “So, perform on your terms. You’re the boss. Do what you want, sing what you want, where and when you want. You’re famous. Anybody would be happy to book you. You’ll pull in huge crowds.”

  “I have contracts. I can’t walk out on them. Trust me, I won’t be nearly as comfortable anymore if I do that. If I had balls, they’d have me by them.”