by Dayo Benson
"You're stunning," Colby says quietly. "But you already know that. Don't you?"
There's no graceful way to answer that question. Saying I don't know it will sound like I just want him to keep telling me how amazing I am. Saying that I do know it is not an option. That would just be big-headed.
The truthful answer would be that I don't know it. Nobody except my friends—my girlfriends—has ever called me stunning. And they've never said it with the tone that Colby just used.
I've never had a guy look at me the way Colby is looking at me right now.
"I keep thinking of how we met," Colby says.
I'm trying not to think of how we met. I don't want to start thinking that there's something divinely orchestrated going on here.
"It's kind of scary and perfect at the same time," Colby whispers.
I look up at him. And then, I can't turn my gaze away if I tried.
"I…really like you, Chloe," he says again. His eyes are haunted.
"I really like you, too," I whisper.
Colby's head lowers and I know what's going to happen. But I can't make myself move away.
It seems to be happening in slow motion. I feel like an age has passed before his lips meet mine.
The moment they do, there's a full-blown explosion in my chest.
I have never felt anything like this before.
I have only empty 'screen kisses' to compare to this, so maybe that's why. But something tells me I could kiss every man in the world and no other kiss would make me feel like this.
A fire rages in my gut and I have absolutely no idea what is happening to me. All I know is that this man is different. None of it makes sense, but maybe it doesn't have to.
I lift my hand hesitantly and touch his jaw. It's rough with an evening shadow.
Colby breaks the kiss. "I'm sorry—"
I touch a finger to his lips. I don't want an apology.
He stares deep into my eyes and I stare back.
I'm breathing hard. Too hard.
Any faster and I'd be hyperventilating.
I lower my finger from his lips and he takes my hands.
We stand there holding hands, staring into each other's eyes for a long moment, saying nothing.
My head is spinning.
Is this how relationships are supposed to be like? Is this how love is supposed to feel? I've never felt anything like this before.
I reach up and this time I initiate the kiss.
Colby needs no further encouragement. His hands go around my waist and he draws me closer.
Then he's kissing me hard.
At some point, I realize that his hands are in my hair. They're large and cup my whole head.
I could kiss him all night.
Eventually, he breaks the kiss again.
Then he takes my hand and leads me back inside. I follow him through the ballroom, out into the reception, and then we head into the parking lot.
At his car, he reaches around me to open the door and then pauses. "Chloe, I haven't felt like this for a long time."
"I've never felt like this," I admit.
Colby shakes his head. "It's too soon."
"Too soon for what?"
"Too soon to feel this way."
I nod. He's right. The feelings are too intense.
I'm glad he feels them too, though. It would be horrible to feel this way about someone and they don't return your feelings.
"I want to see you again, Chloe."
"Me, too." I cringe. "As in, I want to see you—not myself."
Colby smiles and brushes a kiss across my lips.
I assume it's another long kiss, but he breaks it just when I'm getting into it. He opens the car door for me. "Get in."
I get into the car.
All the way home, we're silent. It seems neither of us cares about making conversation anymore.
I'm trying not to freak out. I've crossed a line. I've just kissed a guy who isn't my fiancé.
Oh, God, What have I done?
When Colby pulls up outside my house, all the lights downstairs are off. My friends have gone up to their bedrooms. It's past eleven.
I have never stayed out this late with a guy.
I give Colby a forced smile. "Thanks for tonight."
He says nothing. He's staring at me. There's something off about his expression. He doesn't look happy. I wonder if it's because of his 'no serious relationships' rule.
He gets out of the car, and I wait inside for him to open the door for me.
I climb out when he does, and am about to head to my house when his arms clamp around me.
I feel completely undone as he kisses me again.
I'm proud to say that, this time, I break the kiss.
"Can I see you tomorrow?" Colby asks. His voice is husky.
"Yeah. Text me. Or call."
He nods and kisses me again. Then he releases me. He seems reluctant to let me walk away.
He walks me to the door. I'm so nervous as I take out my keys. My hands are trembling. I try to get the key into the lock, but I can't make my hands stay still.
On my third attempt, Colby's hand closes over mine to hold it still. Then he turns my hand around and kisses my wrist
I bite down hard on my lip as my heart flutters. I need to get away from him.
He inserts the key into the lock for me.
"Thanks," I whisper.
I open the door and he heads back to his car. I watch him get in and drive away.
I enter the house and shut the door behind me. Then I sink to the floor, hot tears streaming from my eyes.
I hear feet on the stairs. I tell myself to get up and stop crying before Gina and Leah see me. But they're downstairs in what seems like a microsecond.
Leah is upon me in a flash, her arms around my shoulders. "What happened?" She sounds alarmed. "What did he do?"
"We kissed," I wipe my eyes, telling myself to stop being silly.
"Did he force himself on you?" Leah demands.
I shake my head. "I…wanted it."
Just then, loud hip-hop music fills the hallway and Gina removes her cell phone from her pocket. She makes a face and then holds it up to me. "It's Timothy. He must want to speak to you."
Chapter 14
I can't speak to Timothy. The fact that he would call Gina, who he can't stand, tells me he's been trying my cell phone all day and he's at his wits' end.
He has Gina's and Leah's numbers. He asked for their numbers over the summer when they visited me at home in Ellenwood. He said they would serve as emergency contacts in case he can't get hold of me.
"He's been calling me too," Leah tells me. "Since seven thirty."
"Tell him I'm, uh…" I search my mind for a suitable excuse.
"I won't tell a lie," Gina says.
"Then just don't answer. I'll call him in the morning."
I drag myself to my feet and go upstairs. I can feel my friends' eyes on my back all the way.
I go straight to the bathroom to remove my makeup and wash my face. I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I've gone from Miss Prim and Perfect to Miss Playing with Fire.
And it happened in a split second, last Friday when I met Colby.
Bile churns in my belly as I remove my makeup. I feel horrible for kissing Colby.
Sure, the kisses were…nice. But I shouldn't have done it. Not when I have a fiancé.
I think God must hate me right now.
Should I pray and ask for forgiveness?
I'm sorry, God. I shouldn't have done that.
I shut myself in my room when I finish cleaning my face.
I don't know what to do about what I've done. I don't know how to make it right.
"I have to break up with Timothy," I whisper to myself.
With that resolved, I instantly feel better. When I get home this weekend, I'm going to break up with him. Mom and Nana will be mad, but I just can't do this anymore. Even if nothing comes of whatever is going on with Colby, I don't think Timothy
is the right man for me.
I switch on my cell phone as I roll into bed. I ignore all the notifications that start coming in. I tap into the Internet and, for the next two hours, I read every single review that Colby, aka King of the Rings, has ever posted on Box Office Blitz.
I agree with many of them, but I vehemently disagree with a lot of them, too. I leave comments on a couple of the ones I strongly disagree with. Then I text him links to my comments.
He replies five minutes later: How dare you disagree with the king?
I grin and text back: I really enjoyed our non-date tonight. It felt like a real date.
I don't get a response.
Thirty minutes later, I'm still waiting. I send another text: I'm glad we'll be seeing each other again.
By one-thirty, he hasn't replied.
If he can't be bothered replying, I'm not going to sit here waiting.
He's probably fallen asleep.
I set my phone on the nightstand and will myself to sleep. It doesn't take much effort. I'm emotionally exhausted.
I'm awakened sometime later by my cell phone buzzing. I groggily reach for it. I'm shocked to see Colby's name flashing on the screen.
A glance at the top right of the screen tells me it's three in the morning.
"Hello?" I croak.
"I don't think we should see each other again."
"What?" I ask.
"I can see how this is going to go. I can read the signs. You think you like me, but once you realize how damaged I am, you'll break up with me. This is not the movies. The damaged guy doesn't get the girl. This is real life. The girl ditches the damaged guy and finds a dude who wears pinstripes, plays the guitar, and has a three-syllable name."
I sit up in bed. I'm confused.
"We can't see each other anymore, Chloe. I don't want to fall in love with you. And I don't want to disappoint you. You're beautiful and you have that sexy lil' accent. You need a pinstripe guy with three syllables."
He doesn't sound quite right.
"Colby—"
"I can't let myself fall for you. I can't let you fall in love with me. This is heartbreak waiting to happen."
"Colby!" I snap.
He stops talking.
"I thought you told me you don't drink."
"I…don't."
Right. It's obvious he's been drinking.
"I like you a lot." I give myself a mental shake. Why did I just say that?
I blame it on the fact that it's three a.m. and I've been dragged from sleep. I don't even know if I'm actually awake. This could be a dream.
I pinch myself.
No. It isn't a dream.
Colby sighs. "You don't like me. You think you do. But you don't. You don't know me."
"Then let me get to know you."
"Why should I if it's only going to go wrong as soon as I let you get close?"
Colby is super cautious if his Gideon-esque bargaining with God is anything to go by. He's looking for every excuse to keep his 'no serious relationships' rule in place.
"Tell me why, Chloe," he says. "Why do you want to get to know me? What do you want from me?"
"I don't know," I tell him honestly, knowing that he'll easily see through any insincere, fluffy words. "But I do know that I've never felt like this about anyone before."
Colby is quiet.
I close my eyes. That makes it easier for me to be vulnerable. "You have no idea how I felt tonight when we kissed."
"How did you feel?"
Even with my eyes closed, I can't bring myself to be quite that vulnerable.
"Tell me," Colby says. "Tell me why I should let myself take this risk."
"I felt like I'd found something I wasn't looking for but desperately needed."
Colby is quiet for a moment. Then I hear the dialing tone.
He hung up on me?
I bared my heart and he hung up on me?
I'm about to call him back, but I stop myself. I am not begging any man to be with me.
Colby is amazing and intoxicating. But if he disappears from my life, things will get a lot less complicated.
I wake up to two emails—besides all the spam in my inbox, that is.
The first is from Quin telling me I didn't get the College Life role.
I'm crushed. I can't get beyond the first sentence. I had my heart set on that role.
I feel like I've failed a quiz. Worse, I feel like I've flunked college altogether.
Tears sting my eyes as I make myself read the rest of the email.
However, they really like you and still want to work with you. They're offering you a three-episode stint as another character. She's more of a bad girl. If she resonates with viewers, she'll be written into subsequent scripts.
I sigh and blink away my tears. That's still good news. Before the Simona role, I would have jumped at such a chance.
It may not be what I wanted but it's still awesome.
I scan the rest of the email. Filming starts next week Monday. Quin has attached the script.
I forward it to Gina and type a quick message to her to print it for me. She has a printer in her room.
I decide that I'll play this lesser role with such masterful elegance that they'll have no choice but to give my character more episodes.
Just then, my cell phone buzzes. My heart skips a beat when I see Colby's name on the screen. He's sent me a text. It's two words: I'm sorry.
I assume he's apologizing for his middle-of-the-night meltdown.
Another message from him comes in: I wasn't drunk. I swear. I don't drink.
I'm about to reply when another message pops up: I've bought you a year's ticket for the art and culture society. Here's to taking risks and throwing caution to the wind. We'll get to know each other by attending every one of their events together.
I'm surprised. The yearly ticket must cost a lot. I imagine it would be close to a grand.
It looks like Colby has decided to see where things lead with me. He's committing to a year at the very least.
Does that mean we're dating?
I turn back to my laptop to Google the ticket price and my gaze catches on email number two. It's from Timothy. The subject line makes my heart stop: I've paid off your college tuition.
What?
I open the email. It's simply a screenshot of a receipt. It shows that he has, indeed, paid the balance of my college tuition.
I can only stare at it.
I've received two extravagant gifts from two different men in a single morning. But Timothy's is way too much.
I grab my cell phone and call him.
Guilt stabs my heart as it rings. I remember all the kissing Colby and I did yesterday.
Timothy doesn't deserve this.
"Good morning, Chloe," he answers.
"Why have you paid my college tuition?"
"Because of that snarky comment you made yesterday about needing to skip class for auditions in order to pay for your classes. Now that I've paid, you no longer need to act to pay for college."
I rub my temples as I listen to him. Timothy has an uncanny way of getting under my skin—in a bad way—and making my head hurt.
He didn't pay because he loves me and wants to help me. He paid in an underhand maneuver to make me stop acting.
"It kind of hurt me to pay since it's a film studies major instead of a real major," he adds.
"A real major," I echo.
"Yeah. Something like nursing. Or HR management. Something normal and suitable for a woman."
I feel like throwing my cell phone at my laptop and smashing them both.
Instead, I take a deep breath and say nothing.
"I'm hoping you will now turn down the College Life role—if you were successful at your audition yesterday."
"I wasn't successful for that role—"
"You weren't?" he cuts in. He sounds overjoyed. "I think that's a sign to you from God. God wants you to stop chasing this worldly dream and—"
&nbs
p; "Timothy, I've been rejected at auditions many times. What makes this particular unsuccessful audition a sign from God?"
"Well, we fell out over it and it seems God has taken my side by not letting you get it."
"I didn't get the part I auditioned for, but they offered me a different role."
Timothy is quiet.
"I'm sorry, Timothy. I can't accept your money. I'll ask the college to refund you. I'll talk to you later."
I'm practically fuming when I hang up.
I have to break up with Timothy.
That's the thought that dominates my mind as I drift from class to class.
I would like to call him and just tell him, but I don't think that's a graceful way to exit a relationship—especially not an engagement.
But if I go home it'll be hard. There'll be so much pressure from Mom and Nana. And since I'll be right there at Mom's house, shutting out their insistent voices won't be as simple as switching off my cell phone.
I don't even want to think about what they'll say. I've never gone against their wishes before, except for this whole acting thing.
They're going to be livid.
As I leave college at four, I receive a text from Colby: I'm in Starbucks across the road from your campus.
I immediately hand over my car keys to Leah. We take turns hitching rides to college from each other to save gas. Today was my turn to take us to college.
Leah looks concerned as I give her a vague excuse for why I suddenly need to go to Starbucks. She's probably guessed that it's something to do with Colby.
I don't care. I have now made up my mind.
I'm going to break up with Timothy, so it's okay for me to see Colby.
I don't know how I'll handle Mom and Nana, but I'll be getting on a flight back to D.C. so I won't have to face their wrath for long. Just for the weekend.
When I get to the Starbucks a few blocks away, I see a dark figure hunkered down on the steps. Human traffic swirls around him, but he's still. His eyes are darting around the area, looking for me.
Something thick, gooey, and warm fills my heart at the sight of him.
Instantly, my fears about Mom and Nana vanish. Everything vanishes.
Everything but him.
He spots me and there's no change in his expression.
As I get closer, I notice that his eyes are strained.
He rises when I reach him.