Ten Thousand Points of Light

by Michelle Warren

  “I deny everything.” She crosses her arms and leans back in her chair.

  “Which means you do.” I point the spatula at her and watch her body language for the answer. She shrugs. Her face expression is uncommitted.

  “We’ll see how good your cooking is, then I’ll decide.” She leans forward, anchoring her elbows on the kitchen island.

  With a self-assured grin, I select a frying pan from the cabinet and raise it in the air by the handle. Then I spin it in my palm, whirling it in several quick rotations. It flickers silver and black Teflon under the lights, making her hoot and clap.

  What she’s about to learn is that in the kitchen, I’m Tom Cruise in the movie Cocktail, juggling bottles of milk and sticks of butter in a choreographed air dance of general awesomeness. I can’t tell if she’s impressed but at least she’s watching me, and there’s nothing I like more than her full attention. Now I need to make it worth her while.

  After my culinary acrobatics show is complete, I set a plate of apple-and-cinnamon pancakes before her. With a torch, I lean over to light the tall candle I’ve placed in the middle of the high stack. It’s not a birthday candle but a twelve-inch-high tapered candle I stole from a fake flower arrangement my mom brought over years ago to “brighten the living room.”

  “Are you serious?” she asks.

  In response, I sing “Happy Birthday.” When I’m done, she blows out the candle.

  When her eyes turn all sparkly and damp, I can’t help but ask, “Did you make a wish?”

  “I don’t need to. Everything I want is already on my vision board.” She’s confident she’ll acquire whatever she wishes. Another something I love about her.

  She forks a piece of pancake, taking the first bite. Her shoulders ease lower at the taste before she continues speaking with a full mouth, “This might be my perfect birthday. I wish you ran too.”

  Now I’m smug. I’ve been dying to drop this information on her. “I run a three-hour marathon. How about you?”

  Her gaze brightens as a languid smile spreads across her face. She finishes chewing and says, “I guess you’ll have to find out. How about in eight weeks on the Lakefront? That’ll give us time to train.”

  “Prepare to be whipped by me and my new spatula.”

  “Sounds naughty.” She laughs.

  I grab the spatula from the counter and lurch at her, threatening to smack her butt. She jumps from her seat and tears across the room to escape, using the sofa to defend herself, but she’s no match for me. When I dive over it, I catch her by the waist and double tap her ass with the flat end. It drops from my hand and then I tickle her until she yelps with laughter and we fall onto the sofa. When she’s trapped beneath me and our bodies have aligned, we lock gazes. There’s a long moment of silence with only the soft sound of our calming breaths.

  “Last night,” she starts, “thanks for not, you know, taking me up on my offer. I’m not ready.” She rolls her lips inward, appearing ashamed.

  “It wasn’t the right time. For now, I just want to kiss you.”

  “Even if I was the one who wrote virgin on your chest?” She bites her fingertip coyly, a smile phantoms but she can’t contain it. As soon as I respond with a shocked expression, she bellows a laugh.

  “What?” I tickle her again until she can barely breath. When I think she’s paid the price of the ten showers it took to completely remove the black Sharpie drawing, I place my lips near her ear and whisper, “Especially if.”

  Then I kiss her. Everywhere.

  CHAPTER 37

  Eight weeks later Cait and I stand on the lakefront path outside Lincoln Park in thirty-degree temperatures. It’s the same spot we’ve been meeting at after school or work to run together. Or just the spot we hang out at to look at the city skyline when it’s dark. It’s kind of romantic, I guess, and it’s become our spot. The truth is I’d love any place I’m with her.

  “Maybe we should reschedule.” I reach for my toes and lunge to stretch my hamstrings. Because of the cold, they’re too tight.

  “But we’ve been training weeks.” Balanced on one foot, she tugs her knee to her chest and holds it.

  “But the storm’s coming, and I’m freezing.” I stand and shiver in my cold weather gear and rub my hand over my arms, wheedling her.

  “I think you’re afraid you’ll lose,” she trash talks with a gleam in her eye. It’s something I’m becoming used to and prepared for. I remove the spatula from my hoodie pocket, wave it around, and lurch at her to swat her cute butt.

  She bounces away and yelps. Through laughter, she says, “I told you to leave that thing home—for later.”

  Since the night of the concert our relationship has been effortless. If there were such a thing in a relationship, I would call us perfect. But if it were to happen with anyone, it would be with Cait. I knew it in my bones when I met her, and I know it now watching the wind whip a loose tendril of her hair, her nose and ears turning bright pink with a chill, and her attention on me like I’m the only man in the world. I love her, but she doesn’t know it yet.

  “You ready?” Cait sets the stopwatch on her cell.

  “But first...” I tug her close and kiss her freezing lips until both of us are warm. Every time we’re near I think those three words in my head, hoping she’ll feel them every time I touch her. One day soon, I’ll build the confidence to tell her. But every time I think it’s the right time, my heart rate accelerates and my nerves push me over the edge until the special moment is lost.

  “May the best woman win.” She squirrels away from my grip and darts down the path, stealing a head start.

  “Cheater.” I chase to catch up.

  On the few first miles, we settle into a nice pace, but that’s when the storm rolls in. Angry blustery clouds roil above, releasing a layer of snow within a few minutes.

  “If we both forfeit neither person wins,” I remind.

  She groans. She’s so desperate to beat me, but she can’t help it. Something in her won’t give in even though there’s five inches of snow on the trail and we’re slipping around it like an ice rink. The moment I think that is when I lose my footing, and the tread of my shoes slides for several feet. My arms whirl to catch myself but then I’m airborne, gravity dropping me like a rock. I hit the ground on my tailbone, and I groan.

  Cait finds me, arms and legs spread wide, like a snow angel. Though I’m fine, my pride is wounded. She glances down with her hands latched on her hips. When she sees I’m okay, she covers her mouth with her hand and laughs.

  “Fine. We can go home but the first nice day, we’re racing.” She offers me her gloved hand to help me up, but I tug her down. She yelps and tumbles over my stomach and to my side. Now she’s laid out on her back too. She grabs a handful of snow and launches it at my face. I turn away to scoop up my own arsenal and toss it at her, but when I release it, the wind smacks it back into my face. I pinch eyes and nose tight at the stinging pricks of cold. This makes her laugh harder.

  “That’s what you get for forfeiting.” She smirks.

  We help each other from the ground and find our way to the main road. There I flag down a taxi. Soon we’re rushing into the condo to warm ourselves from the falling temperatures and worsening conditions.

  “I’m taking a hot shower,” she says. She kicks off her shoes while slipping out of her coat and hat.

  “I’ll make us some hot chocolate.” I head for the kitchen, but she tugs on my shirt, pulling it tight. I boomerang back to her side.

  “Or... you can join me.” There’s a naughty gleam in her eyes.

  Before I can decipher her words, she flips her top and bra over her head, revealing her perfect breasts. She drops her sweatshirt and sports bra on the floor at her feet and gives me a sexy look. But I’m frozen in more ways than one as she continues her seductive striptease. She moves through the apartment, leaving socks in the kitchen and leggings on the floor in the hallway. And now she’s teasing with her underwear.

&nbs
p; I have a moment of shear stupidity because it’s gradually settling on me that after two months of heavy make-out sessions, I’m finally going to be with this woman. Light feet carry me along the heavenly path of clothing leading to her room. I arrive as she drops her panties, revealing her naked body. She offers me a come-hither look that makes me stumble forward, before she disappears into the bathroom.

  The shower flips on, and I follow the sound. At the doorway, I watch her step inside. Her skin is flushed pink, her hips and ass round and as perfect as her breasts. I step closer, one foot at a time, watching her soap herself behind the fogging glass door.

  Before I can comprehend what’s happened, I’ve removed all my own clothing and stepped into the shower with her. Yes, I’ve been confident all this time, but now I’m the most vulnerable I’ve felt, and I’m nervous as hell. But the feeling falls away as soon as I scoot in behind her and press my chest to her warm back. My fully alert dick slips into the curves of her ass, sliding over her smooth skin. My eyes flutter shut at the contact, and I bite my lip. She turns, brushing her hardened nipples across my chest. When I open my heavy eyelids, her fiery and seductive gaze lands on mine.

  She rubs her soapy hands over my abs, my shoulders, across my back, and over my ass. Every place she touches sparks alive, causing blood to rush faster and harder south, where my dick aches to be inside her.

  Thinking I need to slow myself down, I turn the tables and soap all of her body, leaving no part untouched. Under the hot pelting shower, I memorize every curve, every freckle, and every strand of her beautiful hair. But my plan backfires because feeling her body shudder beneath my fingers turns me on more.

  When we’re clean and dried, I kiss her and back her out of the bathroom and into her room. We halt when her calves are pressed against the side of the box spring. I’m wound so tight and horny, I’m ready to explode, but I want everything to be perfect.

  “Are you sure?” I whisper and drag a thumb across her swollen lips.

  “Touch me.” With her words, she ignites the fire within me, releasing the floodgates. I angle into her and kiss her again. Her cheek presses to mine, tickling the scruff on my chin. She summons the buzz I’ve held for her since the day we met. It’s ringing louder than it ever has. It’s in my ears and chest and I want to share and drive the feeling straight into her.

  Intense kisses. Twisting tongues. Our bodies twine until there’s no air between us. We fall on the mattress and spiral until she’s on top of me, my torso locked between her strong thighs. She opens for me and I press inside. She’s so tight. I moan at the connection and I rise, placing my head on her chest. I kiss all of her, claiming every piece as my own. My lips graze her breast. My hands grasp her ass, and I lay back and lift her, rolling us together, driving all of myself into her until we come, wrapped into each other’s arms.

  The second time is playful, with nipping, biting, giggling, and a few smacks from the red spatula. After, wrapped in each other’s arms, I have a true moment of bliss. It’s a completeness I never knew could exist. Total chick shit I need to keep to myself, but it’s there, real and inside me. Then an unexpected sight further elevates my mood.

  “Is my picture on your vision board?” I prop myself on elbows and focus. Some of the covers fall away.

  “I told you everything I wanted was on there.” Cait pulls me back to the bed, fits herself into the curve of my side, and traces my chest. I slide my hand across her thigh, which is hooked over my side.

  True happiness fills me. Readjusting, I turn to her and cup her face in my hands, peering into her sparkling eyes. In them I see the two of us, and the thing I’ve been waiting to say slips out as easily as breathing. “And everything I want is right here. I love you.”

  CHAPTER 38

  “We’ll be snowed in for days,” Cait says, watching an angry swarm of flakes drift past the living room slider door.

  “Fine by me.” From behind, with my arms around her narrow waist, I kiss her neck and bury my face in her smooth hair, inhaling the smell of her sugary shampoo like a damn drug.

  It’s January in Chicago. Snowberia at best, the Ice Age at worst. We’ve been lucky with little blasts of snow every few days but nothing that’s amounted to more than an annoyance. But this time we prepared for a blizzard.

  Cait and I made a Costco run for a ten-pound canister of hot chocolate, liquor, books, and DVDs from the dollar bin, and enough food to stock our kitchen for a month. Heck, I’d be happy if we were stuck here forever. At the very least, we have another week to enjoy each other before school convenes.

  Among the street-parked cars veiled with thick snow, a black SUV with tinted windows stops in front of our building. Its tire tracks ruin the untouched snowy scene. I should take it as a bad omen, but instead I watch with curiosity as a driver jumps out and rounds the car. He opens the back door and a stately figure steps out.

  Cait presses her nose to the window. Her breath fogs the glass, but she smears the cloudiness away and looks again. A bundled woman steps through the snow, around the building maintenance man, Mr. Gusterson, who’s shoveling the sidewalk, and then she climbs the front stairs. Two men escort her.

  “Oh no.” Cait spins. Fear clouds her worried eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” I jerk back a little.

  “Get dressed, quick!” She shoos me away.

  She’s having a panic attack with shaking hands and labored breathing, which has the opposite effect of what she wants. I stay planted and pin her arms to her side, whispering relaxing words to calm her.

  There’s a knock on the door behind us. Our commotion halts, and we stare in the direction of the sound until Cait angry-whispers, “Go.”

  Then it hits me. I know who it is, and this is not how I want to meet this person, or people. Not in my underwear with we-just-had-sex hair and breath. I’m scrambling across the apartment and into my room, ransacking it for clean clothes that don’t exist. Knowing I’ve run out of time, I launch back to slam my bedroom door when Cait answers the front door. From across the apartment, I hear an exchange.

  “Mom,” Cait says in a high-pitched, alarmed squeak.

  Even though I can’t see them, I take the defensive, muscles tensing and cackles rising. Cait hasn’t told me much about her family, only they don’t get along. And I don’t have to be a genius to understand by her reaction this visit is bad news.

  “Did you think you could hide?” her mom barks. There’s more conversation I can’t make sense of and then a sound I do. Heels clicking and traveling down the hall.

  I thought I was safe when I closed my bedroom door, but I have one leg in my dirty jeans before a woman with a serious case of TV anchor hair barges into my room without knocking. She’s an older version of Cait, dressed in a purple pantsuit with a flowery scarf wrapped around her neck. Attractive but her presence is terrifying. Or maybe I’m under that impression because Cait appears terrified standing behind her.

  “And who’s this?” The woman doesn’t bother to look away as I tug my pants to my waist, hiding my boxer briefs.

  When it’s clear Cait isn’t answering, and I’ve buttoned my pants, I cross the room and extend my hand. Her mom doesn’t accept it. She simply stares at my hand until it falls away. Her coldness could be because I’m still half naked or that she’s a complete bitch. I’m betting on the latter. I latch my hands on my hips and stand up straighter, feeling like I’m being challenged. Or worse, that I need to meet her importance.

  “Evan Wade. Nice to meet you, Senator London.” I nod.

  “Ah, I see.” She glances to Cait, who’s folding into herself and staring at the floor, looking like she wants to disappear.

  “We weren’t expecting you,” I say, surveying the mess in my room. We left the beer-can pyramid in the corner as a joke. Thinking back, that might have been a bad call.

  “I guess you wouldn’t since my daughter didn’t even tell me where she lived.”

  Mrs. London spins and continues her self-guided tour, an
d like an idiot I follow the wake of disaster. She slips into Cait’s room, and I lean into the doorframe behind Cait, whose arms are wound tight. Up to this moment she hasn’t said much. Her mom pauses in front of Cait’s vision board, rips down a photo and stares at it. She lifts it and waves it at us. I can see it’s the photo of me. The one I was admiring earlier.

  “Looks like you can take this one down. Mission accomplished,” she says and tosses it aside. Her gaze bounces from our lack of clothing to the unmade bed, to three empty condom wrappers on the floor. I was very proud of that number before she arrived. But now? I still am, but again, this is not the way I wanted to meet her mom—as a sex machine.

  “Thank God I waited to find you until after the election. What would my constituency think about my unwed daughter shacking up with a frat boy? What was your name again, Everett?” She eyes me.

  “Actually, it’s Evan. And I’m not just a frat boy; I’m Cait’s husband.” I smile at the joke, hoping to lighten the mood.

  Her mom stiffens; her predator eyes press into slits, but their attention doesn’t land on me. Instead, she’s inspecting Cait’s ring finger and then her belly. Which Cait seems to automatically cover as if she’s guilty.

  “I’m not pregnant, and we aren’t married. It’s a joke.” Cait finally speaks before storming out of the room, fists clenched tight at her sides.

  “Well, you’re setting yourself up for it, aren’t you?” Her mom brushes past, tracking Cait to the living room. I follow again, knowing full well what’s coming. Their tension is on a countdown to combust in three, two, one...

  “And why’s that so bad? Because it’s not what you want for me?” I enter the room as Cait’s voice rises and her arms slap her sides with frustration. The two face each other in a showdown.

  “You’ve been ruining your life since you ditched Georgetown and snuck off in the middle of the night like a thirteen-year-old runaway.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t use the story to manipulate your voters, make them sad for the senator with a missing daughter. But, oh wait, that might reflect badly on you as a parent. So good thing you waited,” Cait hisses.