by Aria Ford
“You know I’m a kid inside, Mom.”
She grinned. “You’re not a kid. You’re an innocent grown-up.”
His smile was stunning. “Thanks, Mom.”
She gave him another affectionate push. “Come on. Shouldn’t there be an ice cream stand here somewhere? I saw one on the way down.”
As Mom and my brother played hunt-the-ice-cream-van, I followed behind them. I felt lighter inside. Happier.
Mom’s right. The point isn’t to get it right. The point is to be yourself.
“Hey! There it is! On the right!”
“Great. Wait up, Rodney.”
I laughed, watching Mom and Rodney cross the road. While we waited for our turn at the stand, I found myself running through the conversation the night before. Something stood out.
During that whole conversation, I didn’t think once about whether I should or shouldn’t say something.
I had told Kyle some of my firmest opinions, some of my most heartfelt ideas. And I hadn’t stopped to wonder—not once—if he would think I was stupid. Or overemotional. Or loud.
Weird.
“Hey, Bee,” Rodney interrupted my thoughts. “Which flavor you having?”
I frowned. “Is there chocolate?”
We all laughed. I always had chocolate.
“Yes, Bee. Of course, it’s a classic.”
“Perfect.”
While we walked back to our apartment, ice creams in hand, the sun high overhead, I pondered that one important observation. During that one short conversation with Kyle, I had opened up more in a few minutes than in two years with someone else.
No wonder, I realized suddenly, I had been so hurt by his reaction. I had opened up to him, and he had shut me out. At least now I knew why it had bothered me so much. Trust. It was all about trust, just like last time. Everyone had a story though. I would figure it out.
Chapter 4: Kyle
I was in my office, lost in thought. It was a Monday, and I had work flowing in from all directions. I should have been signing papers, reading reports, getting a clean desk before the first meeting at ten thirty. But I wasn’t.
I was still thinking about Bethany, daydreaming like a teenager in school.
In its own way it was annoying. Dammit, get out of my head! I wanted to shout it at her. I kept on seeing that sweet, soft face hovering in front of me, and I knew my poor body was aching for her. But it wasn’t just my body—it was some weird way she’d touched my mind.
I haven’t ever felt like someone is reaching out to me like that. Like they’re reaching inside me. Like it’s safe to say things.
Weird.
The phone rang.
“Yes?”
“Kyle? It’s Rodney. The new software is ready for first use.”
“Wow!” I was surprised. “Hell, Rodney. That was quick. Last time we chatted you thought another week?” That was great news! We were waiting for the new software—from an organizational point of view, it would straighten out so much and give so much relief.
“Yeah,” Rodney chuckled. “Turned out the bugs weren’t as bad as I thought. Blake and I got it sorted on Sunday afternoon. Ready for when it’s needed.”
“You’re going to present it to the board on Friday?” I asked. “I mean, that’s soon enough, right?”
Rodney gulped. “Sure.”
“You want to meet at lunch?” I asked, glancing at the clock. It was a bit outside my job description, but let’s face it, I liked Rodney. He was friendly and easy to chat to. A nice guy to spend an hour with. And he was also the brother of the woman who had annoyingly taken up residence in my head.
“Great. Twelve thirty?”
“Sure,” I nodded. “My meeting should be over by then.”
“Till then, boss.”
I chuckled. “See you, Rodney.”
We met at twelve-thirty at the crowded Café Roxford, just around the corner from the office towers. I slid in between the occupied tables, listening with half an ear to the discussions floating up around me. Stocks and shares were declaimed, news swapped, ideas traded.
“Hey,” I smiled at Rodney, who was seated at the only table with a free place. He grinned. He looked really happy.
“Hey! Great. I wanted to show you our first outputs…I’m really happy with them!”
I frowned, reaching for my glasses. I’d started wearing them recently and still felt a bit self-conscious about them. “Later, Rodney,” I said wearily. “Can you just give me the stuff in plain English, please? My head hurts.”
“Sure,” Rodney nodded, looking discouraged, filing the reams of paper away. “Coffee, huh?”
“Mm,” I nodded. “I need one. And have you ordered lunch?”
“I was waiting so we could both order.”
“Thanks.”
I looked through the menu while he chatted about the program—most of it in computer speak that went straight over my head. I nodded at regular intervals and tried to pretend it made sense. I wasn’t fooling anyone, I thought.
“So,” I heard him say. “FastTrack is ready when you need it.”
“Great,” I nodded slowly. “You have those results in your presentation?” I waved a hand at the stack of documents.
“Sure,” Kyle nodded. “I added them in this morning.”
“Great.”
The waiter arrived and took our orders—Kyle had wraps, I had sandwiches—and then I decided to take the plunge.
“Your sister works as a designer?” I asked as casually as I could.
Rodney nodded. “Sorry if she was a bit argumentative,” he said.
“Argumentative! Rodney,” I laughed. “Are you kidding? Your sister is the most…” I trailed off, realizing how obvious I was making my interest. “Your sister’s not argumentative,” I finished, looking down at my hands quietly.
When I looked up, Rodney had a strange expression on his face. Speculative, almost, like he was trying to figure something out. It was only there an instant, then it disappeared.
“What?”
He shrugged a little helplessly. “Nothing,” he said.
“Sorry,” I said moodily. “Just distracted,” I lied. “Got a lot on my mind.”
“I get it,” Rodney nodded. “A lot of it around nowadays.”
It was my turn to frown. “Lot of what?” I asked, curious.
“People getting distracted,” Rodney said.
I sighed. “It’s summer. I guess people are trying to get stuff done so they can go on vacation.”
“Mm,” Rodney nodded. “It’s a pity Bee took her vacation now, while I’m still working.”
“She’s on vacation?” I asked, interested in spite of myself.
“Yeah. Just a week, though,” Rodney said wistfully. “It feels like ages since I last saw her, though really it must have been at Christmas.”
“Mm?” I frowned, wondering what Rodney’s family did at Christmas—what Bethany did.
“Yeah. We spent it here. She usually spends the summer in Miami, so it’s great that she came down this year.”
“She has friends there?” I asked. I was surprised by my degree of interest. I also felt a bit silly. She probably has a boyfriend there. None of you are so young nowadays. She could be married, even!
“She does,” Rodney said speculatively. “But I think she misses San Diego sometimes. She has more friends here.”
“Oh.”
The waiter arrived with our orders and I looked down at mine with interest. I started eating at once. As I crunched my way through a piece of toasted bread, nutty and great tasting, I was surprised by a sudden flashback to when I was a kid, sitting in the shelter of a wall, eating sandwiches an old lady had made for us. I only spent two weeks on the street before Dad found me, but the hunger, and the fear of hunger, had never really left me.
“You heading somewhere nice for the holiday?” Rodney asked, interrupting my memories. The picture vanished, replaced by one of our family holiday house in Colorado. I never
went there now.
“I never go. I like it here.”
“Oh?” He frowned.
My relationship with my dad is something I never talk about. The admission that we never spent holidays together—not since I was a kid, not since before Mom left—was something I had never revealed before. I looked at my plate, feeling awkward.
“Well, I like it here,” I said defensively. “Half the country wants to come down here for summer, after all.”
“Yeah. California dreaming,” he grinned. I laughed.
“Exactly.”
We ate in silence for a while. I looked at my watch.
“Oh heck,” I said, noticing it was almost one. “I’ve got a meeting just now.”
“Oh,” Rodney looked at the clock behind me, and nodded. “I should go too. I promised Blake we could go over a few things before the meeting on Friday. He’s going to present the section about the program checks. I promise I’ll keep it brief,” he added as he saw me roll my eyes.
“Great,” I nodded. I finished my sandwich and stood, heading for the counter to pay. He came up with me. “Put it on my tab,” I told the guy behind the counter. He nodded.
“Thanks, Mr. Beckham.”
“Sure.”
I was on my way to the door when I walked into a waiter with a tray.
“Oh!”
“Sorry,” I said shortly. “It was my fault.”
I looked down at my shirt—it had collided with the salad and oil and salad dressing now made a spreading stain somewhere near my pocket. I swore.
“Sir! I’m so sorry…please. We won’t charge you for the meal…” The waiter looked horrified.
I sighed. “Look…I walked into you. Let’s just forget about it. Right?” I closed my eyes momentarily, wondering what on earth I was going to do about the stain. I had to be at a meeting in twenty minutes.
I walked briskly out, fuming mad but trying not to show it. Rodney was behind me somewhere, being careful not to attract attention to himself. I was pacing up the street toward the office, making plans. I’ll just stop off on the way and buy a new shirt. It doesn’t have to be something good, just something that doesn’t have mustard on it.
“Whoa!” I exclaimed, walking into yet another person.
“Oh!”
I stared down at the person I’d just walked into. I kept staring.
“Bethany?”
“Kyle.”
Her voice was tight and her brown eyes were cloudy, an expression somewhere between surprise and shock. I tried to get a grip on myself.
“Sorry,” I managed to say tightly. “I was in a hurry.”
“I was just coming to find Rodney. He said he’d meet me here around one,” she said, looking round distractedly.
“Oh.”
I turned around to find Rodney at my shoulder with a sheepish grin on his face.
“Bee, hi!” he said. “You brought my charger? Thanks.” He smiled at me sheepishly. “I forgot my phone charger at home. Asked Bee if she could bring it here. Silly me.”
“We all forget things,” I said absently. I was looking at Bethany. She looked up at me with those big soulful eyes.
“Well, then,” Rodney said brightly. He looked a bit confusedly at us. “Bee?”
“Sorry, what?” she blinked at him distantly. “Oh. Charger. Yeah.” She fished in her purse and those long tapering fingers produced the charger. She handed it over to her brother, her pale and plump lips making a little “o” shape of inquiry. I felt myselftense in spite of myself.
“I’m just off to the store,” I said, taking the plunge. “I needed a new shirt urgently.” I looked down at my shirt with a sad face.
She saw the stain, a little smile pulling the corners of her mouth up. “You messed yourself?”
I blushed hotly. “I walked into someone,” I said.
“Oh.” she nodded. “Well, I guess I’m off, then,” she said, looking from me to Rodney. I frowned.
“Where are you headed?”
“That way,” she nodded. I looked and noticed an outlet of Old Navy that way. Not a bad place to stop and get a shirt.
“I’ll go that way too,” I said quickly.
Hell, man! Relax. She’s going to think you’re weird. Breathe in. And out. In. And out.
She raised a brow at me.
“I want to buy a shirt,” I explained quickly. “In there.”
She nodded. “Good plan.”
“See you,” Rodney waved. I nodded. I’d forgotten about him for a moment.
“In a few minutes,” I said, looking at my watch. “I’ve got to go.”
Bethany nodded.
Even though we hadn’t said a word about it, we both walked together in the direction of the sign. I glanced sideways at her. She was wearing a light sundress, patterned with blue flowers. I felt my cock harden as I drank in the sight of her full breasts, her long shapely legs beneath the knee-length skirt. I wanted her so much.
Getting oil on my shirt, I thought as we headed through the busy post-lunch time street, was easily the best move I’d made all day.
Chapter 5: Bethany
I walked along beside Kyle, feeling like I’d suddenly woken in a very weird dream. Of all the things I absolutely had not expected, bumping into him in the street would have been top of my list. What were the chances?
“You have a meeting now?” I asked.
“One thirty,” he said succinctly. It was one o’ clock now. I felt my heart patter in urgency.
“Hell. You’re sure you’ll have time?”
“The office is there,” he said, inclining his head up the street. “I’ll make it.”
We walked on. I couldn’t help being aware of his closeness, the feel of that muscled body right next to my own. The guy must live at the gym after hours, I thought, shivering at the thought. I wondered what his body looked like under that crisp white shirt. My cheeks flamed with delicious shame.
Bethany Hayworth! Stop it. I tried to stop the naughty grin that crossed my face.
“Whoops,” I said, as a particularly quick-paced guy in a business suit almost walked over me. Kyle reached out a hand to steady me.
I tensed and his hand dropped to his side as if he’d touched hot coals.
Again, I felt that strange annoyance. I wasn’t so scary, was I? I was offended by his reaction, and also a bit wistful as my arm tingled with the aftershock of his touch.
“Sorry,” he said, tight lipped. “Some of these guys need to learn manners. I…oh!”
We both stepped around a kid on rollerblades and as I looked up I noticed a wide expanse of graffiti on the boards around a construction site.
“Oh, look,” I said, pointing. “Just what we were talking about.”
I had the strange experience of seeing him look shocked. He stared at the boards with an expression that I couldn’t read. Then he shook himself, as if shaking off some bad dream.
“Oh yes,” he said. “Like our talk on Saturday, right?”
“Right.” I nodded, smiling. “Look, sorry if I was a bit…well…a bit much,” I added, feeling shy. “I’m very passionate about my art.”
He frowned at me. “Too much?” he said. “Where did you get that from?”
It was my turn to frown. “I don’t know,” I said. “Everywhere, really.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah.” I looked at my hands, embarrassed. “You know…guys think it’s weird when a girl goes on and on about some idea or other. I guess,” I added, shrugging confusedly.
“No,” he said. He was looking at me with a strange intensity, those gray eyes soft. I swallowed hard as the touch of them seemed to touch my soul.
“No?”
“You’re not weird,” he said gently. “I don’t know how you think that. I…uh, excuse me,” he added, as he looked around. We were close to the store now. “I got to run. Listen, you have a card or something?”
I frowned. My mouth was suddenly dry. “Here,” I said, reaching automatically into
my handbag, finding the front zip-up compartment where my business cards were kept. I handed him one. He took it, looked at it with a smile, then grunted in satisfaction.
“Thanks,” he said. He slipped it into his jacket. “I’d better run.”
“Bye,” I said softly.
He nodded once, twice, and then ducked into the doorway.
I stood where I was.
What the hell just happened?
I didn’t move until a kid on roller-blades swerved around me, yelling in dismay. I nodded and stepped back, still too surprised to move. I shook myself.
“Come on, Miss Hayworth,” I told myself firmly. “Let’s go.”
I found my way back along the street, heading in the direction of the bus stop.
I arrived at Mom’s home in the suburbs in a dreamlike state. I drifted up the sidewalk and through the front door in a daze.
“Bethany? That you?”
“Yes, Mom,” I called out heading up the stairs to my room.
“When you come down, could you look at what I got for the party? I want to decide between two dresses—I’ll take the other one back. I just had to ask you.”