Found

by Claudia Burgoa

  “We are like a cheesy teenage couple from those books you love,” he murmured in my ear, kissing my neck and finally capturing my lips. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

  I kissed his lips one more time. “How’s school?”

  He opened the door of his truck and holds the rose in one hand and a Ghirardelli bag on the other. “I went to San Fran today.”

  My heart skipped a few times. “I might like you, McFee.”

  “You better, I missed you like crazy last night.”

  “Well, I have all night to make it up to you.”

  I opened the bag of chocolates, and before I ate them, I asked, “So where are you taking me?”

  “Bed.” He caressed my thigh, and my heart thumped hard. “But we can go to our secret place. My father is home, and he might not let me stay past midnight.”

  “Hazel, where do you want to go?”

  Not to bed or to the bowling alley parking lot. That was a shitty ‘secret place’. There wasn’t anything mysterious about it. None, nada. We had sex in a parking lot.

  “Any preferences?” He continues asking.

  I rub my eye with the heel of my hand pretending to clear dust. Not thinking about sex. “I’m not familiar with the area, what do you recommend?” I shake off the R-rated images that almost played inside my head.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “‘Sexy’ is being independent, being confident, and having fun.” ― Mollie King

  Scott

  Scott: I hate you.

  Hazel: You don’t hate me. But why are you complaining?

  Scott: I’m at a gala by myself, again. We have an agreement.

  Hazel: I offered for you to stay, and help me with my parents’ house.

  Scott: I don’t like you when you’re playing with power tools and hammers.

  Hazel: I’m good with the hammer.

  Scott: I’d rather you be in New York with me, testing out my power tool.

  Hazel: Power tool? Someone thinks highly of his little cock.

  Scott: Little? What happened to I love your thick, long dick?

  Hazel: I appreciate it. I bet many women will pay to play with it. We should auction it for charity.

  Scott: Would you bid?

  Hazel: I might. Maybe I’ll let someone else have it.

  Scott: Like you’d let anyone else have it. What happened to Hazel doesn’t share?

  Galas without Hazel are unbearable. But at least, she’s humoring me by texting back.

  Hazel: How many women so far?

  I groan, she changed the subject.

  Scott: What’s the question?

  Hazel: How many have asked you to dance or to fuck them?

  Scott: Two offered me their hotel key, three wanted to dance, and many others have asked about my pretty girlfriend.

  Hazel: You have a pretty girlfriend?

  Scott: Since Harrison is taken, everyone assumes that you’re mine.

  Scott: I wish you were…

  I stop myself, and erase the text before I do something stupid. We are hundreds of miles away from each other to have that kind of discussion.

  Hazel: I swear I’ll go to the next one.

  Scott: You keep saying you’ll come soon and you haven’t.

  Hazel: Next weekend?

  I ignore that text because I’m not going to be in town next weekend.

  Hazel: Tell me, what tuxedo are you wearing?

  Scott: Oxford gray, no tie today.

  Hazel: Living dangerous, Everhart. Is it in your pocket?

  Scott: Yeah, waiting for you. I miss you.

  Hazel: Tell me, what’s going on?

  Scott: Since I have so much time on my hands, I’ve found at least seven places where I could’ve fucked you. I always wanted to have sex with you while you wore those beautiful gowns.

  Hazel: Seven?

  Scott: I regret never fucking you at one of these events.

  Hazel: A little crass, aren’t we?

  Scott: Are you going to punish me?

  Hazel: LOL!

  She sends multiple laughing while crying emojis.

  Hazel: How do you think I’d look wearing a corset and fishnet tights?

  Scott: Crotchless corset?

  My dick aches at the thought of the lace and silk bodysuits she wears under her clothing. I’ve ripped a few and begged her to buy crotchless for easy access.

  Hazel: And a whip.

  Scott: I don’t care about the whip, as much as I care about your attire. Is this roleplay or wanting to experiment with a new lifestyle?

  Hazel: Neither one.

  Scott: It could be a once in a lifetime event. Your hands tied behind you and your legs attached to a spreader.

  Hazel: I know you like kink, but that’s a little much for what you usually do.

  Scott: You love when I tie you up.

  Hazel: Scott, I suggest you steer the conversation to a safer subject. Things are getting out of hand.

  Scott: I could do a few things I know you’ll enjoy.

  Hazel: This is a bad idea, Scott. Let’s talk tomorrow.

  Scott: Texting?

  She doesn’t respond.

  No, no don’t shut me down.

  We’re clearly getting somewhere. I can either jump on a plane or ... what else can I do?

  “If you’ll excuse me, sir, I have to make a call,” I turn to Hazel’s grandfather who frowns at me.

  “I should be heading home too,” he agrees, rising from his seat. “When you talk to my girl, tell her to call me more often. I miss her.”

  “Yes sir,” I lie. There’s no fucking way I’m mentioning her grandfather during my phone conversation.

  He walks a couple of steps and looks over his shoulder. “It’s time to man up and tell Hazel how you feel, Scott.”

  “Yes, sir.” I half smile.

  It’s not that easy, sir. Your favorite person in the world is more complicated than she lets you know. And I’m a complete idiot.

  I leave the hotel and climb into the service car waiting for me. The driver rushes through the streets when I offer a hefty tip if he makes it to my house in less than twenty minutes. I call her when I arrive home and run to my room. I’m a man starved from his favorite meal.

  Hazel: I’m not answering that call.

  “Fuck!”

  Scott: You can’t ask about the corsets without expectations.

  Hazel: It was an innocent question.

  Scott: There’s nothing innocent about your question. You in a corset is a sinful image that I want to explore. If you asked it’s because you want it.

  Hazel: I prefer to buy lingerie, laces, silk…something see-through.

  Scott: Stop. My cock is swollen, hungry and pressing against my slacks.

  Hazel: Don’t you wish I was there to unbuckle your pants. Your choices would be: riding you or …

  And the stupid dancing dotes keep rolling on my screen.

  Scott: Or what?

  Hazel: My mouth.

  “Seriously?” Her voice has a hint of annoyance and amusement.

  “How would you start? Pulling my dick out of my boxers, touching it?”

  “Scott,” Hazel gasps.

  “I love when your soft hands touch my length, and when your mouth—”

  “You like when I tease you with my tongue. Licking you like a popsicle. Swirling my tongue, sucking your balls,” she laughs in delight. “Wait, we have to stop.”

  “I’m stroking myself imagining it’s you. Keep going,” I beg her.

  “Where are you, Scott?”

  “My room,” I say undressing. I palm my dick, closing my eyes as I picture her. “Sitting on my bed. I’m imagining you on your knees and opening your mouth.”

  “Hazel!” I hear someone calling her name on the other line.

  I finally pay attention to what’s going on the other side of the line. Music, voices…where is she?

  “Who is that?”

  “Fitz,” she sighs, her voice almost a whi
sper. “This isn’t a good time.”

  “Are you at a party?”

  “He brought the party to my apartment.” I hear the locks moving, and the noise is even louder. “I’ll be there in a second.”

  “Can you just kick him out?”

  “Time’s up,” I hear Fitz’s voice. “Scott, she’s mine this weekend. Don’t call us, we’ll call you.”

  I hate my brother.

  Hazel: I’ll be thinking of you.

  Scott: Call me after everyone leaves.

  Hazel: No, it’s a bad idea, Scotty.

  Scott: I won’t see you next week. Come to London with me. I won’t be in San Fran for two weeks, and I doubt I’ll survive without you.

  Hazel: I’ll miss you, bring me candy from England. You know what I like.

  Scott: I know what you like, and if you come with me, I’ll give it to you.

  Hazel: Sorry, you’ll have to use your imagination and your hand while thinking about fucking my mouth. Hitting the back of my throat. I’d swallow, you know I love to swallow.

  Hazel: Goodnight, Scotty.

  I drop the phone on my bed, closing my hand around my cock, stroking it. I’m imagining her hot tongue licking me, teasing my dick with her mouth. My hands tugs her hair as my tip hits the back of her throat. My stomach clenches, my spine contracts as I spurt jizz over my hand.

  I’m spent, unsatisfied, hungry. My heart stops beating. The starving loneliness that surrounds me devours me with every breath I take.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “She’s a strong cup of coffee in a world that is drunk on the cheap wine of shallow love.” —JM Storm

  Elliot

  Hazel enters the café at eight o’clock sharp. She wears a knee-length red dress. Her brown hair is pulled back into a ponytail. The professional, poised look is perfect, but it’s not her. My eyes lower and I spot her old pair of Converse. That’s the girl I fell in love with so many years ago.

  I rise from my seat as she approaches me. Leaning forward, I kiss her cheek.

  “Thank you for accepting my invitation.” I pull out the chair next to me and push it slightly after Hazel takes a seat.

  “I’m glad you invited me.” She looks at my chocolate cake and licks her lips.

  “I want one of those and a hot cocoa,” she says just as the server approaches. “But before that, can you bring me a turkey sandwich, please.”

  “Dinner?” I angle my head.

  “Yeah. Today’s nourishment was granola bars galore.” She rubs her stomach. “The meal of the future.”

  She smiles when I share a forkful of cake with her. Hazel chews a couple of times. “This is so good.”

  “How was work?” I inquire, pushing the plate closer to her and giving her a clean fork.

  “Busy, but let’s not talk about work.” She smiles, dipping her finger into the frosting of my cake and sucking on it.

  Fuck, this woman is going to kill me. I wish we had had oral sex back when we were going out.

  “Are you okay?” She touches my arm, sending a surge of electricity through my body. “You look a little flushed.”

  “I’m fine,” I close my eyes, feeling like a teenager.

  “Good, so tell me, how’s your family. I’ve been in Santa Cruz but haven’t visited your Mom.”

  Yeah, let’s not do that anytime soon. She’s not crazy about you. Mom thinks that Hazel broke my heart. And since I’m not ready to confess what I did to Hazel, I can’t bring her home just yet.

  “She’s doing well. Working as a receptionist in a dental office, taking care of her grandchildren.”

  Hazel smiles. “How many does she have?”

  The waiter brings her food, and while she’s eating, I show her pictures of my sister Dahlia and her three daughters. Then a picture of Mom and my other siblings.

  “Dahlia’s daughters are so cute. Teagan is precious,” she states beaming at a selfie of my youngest niece and myself next to the sloth exhibit.

  “Yes, she’s amazing—they all are. The best thing is that I get to return them to my sister after we are done babysitting them.”

  “Sounds like a sweet deal,” she wipes her mouth. “I always have trouble returning my nephew.”

  She sighs, closes her eyes and smiles. “Charlie,” she opens them as she speaks. “It breaks my heart when Willow and Hunter say I’m back.”

  “You miss him?”

  She nods, pressing her lips together and twisting them around several times. “I was planning on going this week but…”

  “If you wait, maybe I can go with you at the end of April,” I suggest, taking her hand. “I’ve never been there.”

  Hazel stares at our linked hands and then at me. “I’d like that, going with you. Though I have to go sooner to see my family.”

  “Of course,” I squeeze her hand. “Is this a good time to ask about your life in New York?”

  “I think we’ve covered everything.”

  “Did you ever fall in love?”

  “What?” Hazel’s head snaps and she stares at me.

  I swallow, taking my time as one of the servers refills Hazel’s glass and the other sets her sandwich on the table. “You mentioned that you’ve dated, did you fall for any of them?”

  “No,” she answers too fast, her gaze dropping to her food. She grabs her sandwich.

  She twists her lips. “My love life is complicated.”

  Hazel takes a bite of her sandwich, chews slowly and then places it back on the plate. She squeezes out some ketchup. Takes a fry, dips it, and then looks at me. “How about you?”

  “It’s hard to fall for a woman who you sleep with one night and never see again.”

  We remain quiet. I watch her, wondering why her mind is wandering. I want to know more about her, and everything that’s happened in the last ten years. Including those years when I was with her, but I was unreachable. We missed so much. How do I convince her to forgive me when I failed her?

  “That makes sense. I felt empty every time…”

  “I never thought about how I felt, it was just for fun you know.”

  Hazel nods while she continues eating. Attentive to what I have to say but reserved. “In a way, I’ve been waiting for something.”

  “Like a miracle?”

  “A sign, an explanation, or just afraid of opening myself because I’ve been hurt too many times.”

  She sucks her lower lip, her eyes focused on the table. Then, they find mine and she speaks. “My parents left. Every time I tried to trust a friend in school, they only stayed around while they needed me. Willow left me.” She inhales slowly. “I understand why she did it, but I was sixteen…alone. I had you and then you—”

  “I feel like I messed up your life.” I reach for her hand.

  She’s not sad, nor angry, just...absorbed in her words and her thoughts.

  “You’re not the bad guy.” She offers me a smile.

  “On the contrary, you’re a great guy who had to deal with a big loss. Taking care of your family mattered. There were casualties down the road. You had no idea what I was doing, and my parents damaged me in their wake. Clinging to you as if my life depended on it wasn’t healthy—for either of us.”

  “The depression that you mentioned?”

  She sighs, nodding slightly.

  “How are you doing?”

  “I have good days and bad days. I try to hold on to the good, and although I might look crazy and obsessive to some, I don’t care. Taking care of things and managing little details keeps my mind busy enough to handle it. And during the darkest days…”

  Her gaze drops, she takes her hand away. “I have to find other ways to cope.”

  “Some days, I feel like I’m drowning,” I confess. “You’re not here and I feel like this will never be over.”

  “But it’s over, Eli.”

  How can it be when she’s not with me?

  “Maybe we each needed to be alone during the second act of the story,” I suggest as
she calls me poison.

  “Second act?” She taps her chin. “Perhaps you’re right.”

  “My grandfather’s buildings didn’t have any issues until a couple of months ago,” she smiles. “The universe made it happened at the right moment. It aligned the stars, our lives, and brought us together.”

  “You think that’s why we’re here?”

  She shrugs, “maybe? I’m not sure. There has to be a reason, right?”

  I smile. There she is. The romantic girl I fell in love with when we were teenagers, still believing in love and fairy tales. All those ‘happily ever after’ endings promising a life full of joyful moments.

  “What are you saying?” I hold my breath.

  “I’m saying that we have a clean slate where you’re Elliot and I’m Hazel. We start from zero, and we find out where we belong.”

  My pulse accelerates when I think about the years I’ve faced without her. She seems well adjusted without me.

  The uncertainty of what she says, or fear of losing her prickles under my skin. “What if we don’t belong?”

  “Fear is our worst enemy. It pushes you to a corner. You live scared, trembling because of what can go wrong instead of enjoying what’s happening to you.”

  Hazel looks around and calls the server pointing at my cake.

  “I must confess that I’ve feared to trust my heart since our divorce.”

  She smiles at the waiter who delivers the slice of chocolate heaven promptly.

  “Can I get a cup of hot chocolate too, please?”

  As the server walks away, she turns to me. “I might’ve come across wonderful men, but I’ll never know if they were the one because I let that fear devour my confidence.”

  “Are you afraid of me?” Because I’m afraid of what you can do to my heart if you reject me.

  “Of course, but I have to find my place.” She takes a bite of cake and moans. “If all else fails, I’ll wait for the storm to end and pick myself up, again.”

  I gawk in awe. “That’s something I’ve always admired of you. Your strength.”

  She laughs. “I’m also fragile, and easy to scare. But I am tired of pushing away my happiness.”