by Katie Wismer
He chuckled against her back, his lips not even pausing the pattern they were tracing along her neck. “Then by all means, let me take you to my room.”
Before she could respond, he swept her into his arms and stood. At first she thought he’d head straight for the balcony door, but instead, he set her on her feet and backed her up until she was pressed against the balcony’s railing. His fingers threaded into her hair as his mouth landed on hers, his knee pushing between her legs. There was nothing soft or cautious about this kiss. This was the kiss of a man who knew he was about to get what he wanted.
He kissed Jo like he was making up for every time their time had been cut short over the past month, every time they were interrupted, every time she made them stop. And she let him. She let his hips press her against the railing and his hands slide under her clothes. She let his teeth dig into the skin of her neck until she gasped. She let him lift her by the waist until her legs were wrapped around him and he was carrying her back into the apartment.
She didn’t even have a chance to worry if she was doing things right, because he laid her out on the bed and immediately took over, until it became a continuous stream of things she let him do. She let him slip off her skirt, unclasp her bra, kiss any part of her skin he could get his mouth on. He knelt back and peeled off his shirt, and she laid back and watched, like he was the main performer in this routine and she was only an observer. Aside from the city lights pouring in through the window, the room was dark. As he hovered over her, he laced their hands together and pinned them above her head, and she realized he was breathing just as heavily as she was.
“Are you sure?” he murmured as his lips trailed down the side of her jaw. “You want to do this tonight?”
She nodded, breathless, as one of his hands slid down her body, taking its time, before finally coming between her legs. She closed her eyes, willing herself to relax, willing herself to stop thinking so much, and she felt his lips press against hers again, his tongue eagerly sweeping into her mouth.
“Just, can we use a condom?” she breathed.
“Of course.” He pulled on the lobe of her ear with his teeth, and when he spoke again, she could hear the smile in his voice. “I’ve been waiting for this for a long time.”
When he was done, Grey rolled onto his back beside her and let out a deep exhale. Jo continued to stare at the ceiling, her entire body numb. Grey traced his hand down her arm, linked their fingers together, and pulled her against his chest.
It was done. This thing she’d built up in her mind for so long—this insurmountable rite of passage—that was it. Grey kissed her temple and leaned down to meet her gaze, and she forced a smile, willing the spiraling thoughts in her mind to quiet. He opened his mouth to say something, but a buzzing across the room cut him off.
“Hold on.” He untangled himself from her and jumped up to grab his phone off the dresser. While his back was turned, Jo took the opportunity to grab the sheets and wrap them around herself. She wasn’t sure why she was doing it—he’d already seen everything—but there was something about this moment afterwards that felt so much more vulnerable.
“Yeah, yeah, I hear you,” Grey was saying into the phone. Jo pushed herself up, sheets firmly wrapped around her chest, and leaned back against the headboard. A cold wave of dread washed through her chest, and she quickly glanced down at the sheets around her, but there wasn’t any blood, at least not that she could tell. It hadn’t hurt—not as much as she’d prepared herself for, at least—but it hadn’t felt good exactly, either. “I’ll be there in a bit.”
Grey hung up the phone and turned back to her, grinning as he took her in on the bed. He climbed toward her and placed his hands against the headboard on either side of her face, leaning in until their noses brushed.
“That was the guys,” he said. “They’re pissed I’m not there. I promised I’d stop by for a bit tonight. Do you mind?”
It took her a few seconds to process what he was saying. He wanted to…leave?
Or rather, he wanted her to leave.
Heat flooded to the back of her neck, but she clenched her jaw to keep it from showing on her face. “Of course not. It’s getting late, anyway. I should get home.”
“Great. Okay.” He pressed his lips to her forehead and jumped back up, immediately searching the ground for his pants. “No rush at all. Stay as long as you want.”
She watched numbly as he quickly collected his things, checked his hair in the mirror, and headed toward the door, all while Jo was still frozen in place against his headboard. He paused in the doorway to glance back at her, that crooked smile still firmly in place. “You’re beautiful, Johanna.”
And then he left.
It wasn’t until after the door shut behind him that she realized he hadn’t even asked her to come with him.
She let out a shuddering breath. When she glanced down, she realized how tightly her hands were clenched around the sheet. The surrounding silence rang in her ears.
She couldn’t spend another minute in this apartment.
She leapt up, her breaths coming in short, harsh gasps as she searched the ground for her clothes and yanked them on with trembling hands. Then suddenly every part of her body was shaking, expelling whatever emotion that was pouring into her chest but she couldn’t quite recognize. Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, and she had to sit on the edge of the bed for a minute to catch her breath.
She found her phone last, grimacing as she noticed the time. It was a lot later than she’d realized. She quickly pulled up her text conversations with Miller.
Are you guys still there?
His response was immediate.
Still here! Everything okay?
She glanced around the empty apartment, at the rumpled sheets on the bed, the discarded Solo cups on the floor, the pile of dirty clothes in the corner she hadn’t noticed before. There was a lacy bra on top that definitely didn’t belong to her. A hot tear rolled down her cheek, but she quickly swiped it away.
I’ll be there in five.
By the time she made it to the diner, it was empty, save for a single booth in the back. Miller waved as she approached, his legs propped carelessly on the bright red seat across from him.
“Where’s Kayleigh?” Jo asked.
“Oh, she went home about an hour ago.”
Jo wrapped her arms around herself and glanced at the surrounding empty tables again. “So you’ve just been in here all by yourself all night?”
He shrugged, like this wasn’t a particularly odd thing for him to do, and waved his phone at her. “I’ve got some books on here to help pass the time. Come on, have a seat.” He straightened, letting his feet fall back to the ground.
“Thanks for waiting for me. I know it’s late. You didn’t have to do that—but, thanks.” She wasn’t sure what she would’ve done if he hadn’t answered. She slid in across from him, not quite meeting his eyes. Somehow, she knew if he saw her face—really saw it—he’d know everything. But sitting across from him right now felt a hell of a lot better than being alone in that apartment. They sat in silence like that until, finally, Jo looked up.
He stared at her for a second, his expression giving nothing away. But then he turned and nodded toward the waitress reading a romance novel behind the counter. “You in the mood for some fries? My treat.”
She let out a startled laugh, her breath hitching in the middle, so she coughed to disguise it. Of all the things she’d thought he’d say, that wasn’t even on the list of possibilities. “You don’t have to do that.”
He shrugged and waved over the waitress. “It’s cool. Next time, it’ll be your turn.”
10
Senior Year - March
The next day, Miller appeared at her door, car keys and a plastic-wrapped sandwich in hand. The moment Jo told him where Sandra’s office was, he’d insisted on driving since there was some famous bookstore nearby he wanted to go to. She was supposed to have a therapy appointment that aftern
oon, which she’d already rescheduled twice, but if there was anything her therapist would agree was worth rescheduling over, it was this, right?
She’d opted for a plain gray skirt that cut off just above her knees and a black blouse with a tie around the neck, her hair tied up in a slick ponytail for the interview. Professional but stylish. Based on what she’d seen of Sandra Simone the night before, the woman appreciated style.
She and Miller were quiet as they climbed into his SUV and headed for the highway. Miller chewed on his sandwich as he drove, but despite missing lunch, Jo was far too nervous to have any kind of appetite. Then there was the whole issue of dinner later with her parents—but she couldn’t even muster the energy to worry about that yet.
But stupidly, more than anything else, she couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss. It had just been for show, obviously. Miller had seen her in distress with her parents and swooped in to rescue her, like the white knight he thought he was. It hadn’t meant anything, and now that he was full-on pretending to be her boyfriend to get her parents to leave her alone, she was going to owe him big time.
But the last thing she’d expected was for the kiss to feel that…nice.
She stared out her window as he drove, forcing the memory away. She didn’t want to think about how soft his lips had been, or the way his familiar scent had suddenly affected her differently than it ever had before. She didn’t want to think about how strong his chest had felt under her hand, or how it had felt like the kiss was cut too short.
Eventually, Jo turned on the radio to drown out the silence, and pumped her leg up and down to the beat of the song.
What she should have been worrying about was this interview and what she was going to say. How she was going to win Sandra Simone over and convince her she was worthy of a job a thousand photographers would kill for.
But all she could think about was Miller’s hand resting on the gear shift and how close it was to her leg.
“Thanks for saving me last night,” she finally said.
The corner of his mouth turned up, but his eyes remained glued to the road. “You looked like you could use some backup. Honestly, I had thought you were kidding about your mom. But yeah, yikes.”
“I think you just made her year. But don’t feel like you have to come to dinner tonight. I can make up some excuse.”
“Are you afraid I’m going to embarrass you?” he teased.
“Well, that’s a given.” Jo relaxed into her seat, the weird tension that had settled over the car finally easing. “What are you going to do if my interview runs long?”
“Jo. It’s a huge bookstore. I’m good.”
She snorted. “You’re such a nerd.”
“And you love it. Do you feel prepared for your interview? Want me to pop off some practice questions?”
“Oh, God, please don’t. That’ll just make me more nervous.”
“What do you have to be nervous about? She asked you to come in after just a glance at your portfolio. She clearly likes you. In my book, you’re already hired.”
Jo sighed. “You didn’t see her, Mill. She was all glamorous and shiny in person. The kind of person who looks impossible to impress.”
“And yet…you’ve already impressed her.”
“I think impressed is too strong of a word.”
“Well, you look the part today. So if she’s not impressed by the end of this, she clearly has no soul.”
Jo rolled her eyes but smiled despite herself. “Can we talk about something else to distract me? What’s going on in your life? How are your capstone projects going?”
Miller winced and flipped on the blinker to change lanes. “Let’s just say I’ll probably be pulling several all-nighters in the library this week. You wanna pay me back for this ride and come keep me company?” He grinned and batted his eyelashes at her as they took the exit.
“Me? In a library? I think we both know the answer to that.”
Sandra’s studio was in the quieter side of downtown. Luckily, Miller had no trouble finding a spot in the parking lot across the street. Unluckily, a light drizzle of rain had broken out, and judging by the thick, dark clouds looming above them, it was only going to get worse. Jo glanced at the clock—they were more than fifteen minutes early—but she didn’t want to risk waiting out here and having to sprint through heavier rain later on, ruining her outfit and meticulously styled hair moments before interviewing with the most put-together woman she’d ever seen.
“Hold on.” Miller restarted the car and eased out of the lot.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
He glanced both ways down the empty street before pulling up to the curb in front of the studio with the chic black and white Sandra Simone Photography sign in the window.
“Go on then,” he urged.
She gave his arm a quick thank you squeeze before hopping out of the car and hurrying under the overhang. She waved as Miller’s car pulled off, and she braced herself with a deep breath before heading inside.
A woman Jo didn’t recognize smiled at her from the front desk, large cat-eye glasses taking up the majority of her face. “Are you Johanna Palmer?” she asked.
Jo nodded. “I’m supposed to have an interview with Ms. Simone at two?” She wasn’t sure why it came out like a question. She needed to get it together. If she wanted any shot of landing this, she had to go into that interview exuding confidence and competence.
“You can head on back. She’s expecting you.”
A cold blast of air conditioning swept over Jo as she pushed through the glass doors and paused outside Sandra Simone’s office. The entire wall was transparent, exposing walls full of Sandra’s photos, and a wide, white desk at the back. Sandra was typing something on her large desktop computer but paused and glanced up as Jo hesitantly ventured inside.
“Johanna!” Sandra stood and reached over the desk to offer her hand. Jo quickly crossed the rest of the space between them to shake it, forcing herself to make eye contact even though all she wanted to do was examine every inch of this office. One of Sandra’s most famous shots stared back at her from the far wall—a close-up of a woman with thick, red juice dripping from every inch of her face.
Sandra looked different today than she had at the showcase, to a slightly jarring degree. She wore simple dark jeans and a black high-neck blouse, her wavy hair loose around her face. She smiled warmly and gestured for Jo to take one of the velvet green chairs across from her.
“So glad you could make it in on such short notice, but I knew the moment I saw your portfolio, if I didn’t sweep you up fast, someone else would.”
“I—thank you.”
“We’re looking for a summer intern, and I think you could be perfect for it. The position is paid—although to be fully transparent, it’s still an intern salary. However, if you do well here, I’d be willing to revisit with you at the end of your internship about a full-time position, or at the very least, a recommendation letter. Are you planning to stay in town after graduation?”
“I haven’t really made any concrete plans yet,” said Jo. “Just trying to be flexible for whatever opportunities present themselves.”
Sandra nodded approvingly and spun her monitor around so Jo could see. There was a bulleted list on one side and a calendar on the other with nearly every date filled with something or another.
“There are no wrong answers here,” said Sandra, which immediately spiked Jo’s nerves. “The position is already yours if you want it. But I want to gauge where you’re at now and what you have experience with.”
Jo relaxed a bit in her chair as Sandra spouted off question after question—talking about the logistics of photography was a lot less intimidating than trying to sell herself. She’d been glued to a camera since elementary school. Most of this was second nature by now. Sandra nodded and smiled along with each answer until finally turning the monitor around and leaning back in her chair.
“My assistant at the front will have som
e paperwork for you—feel free to take your time and look it over, and give me a call sometime next week if you think we might be a good fit.”
“Absolutely.” Jo rose to shake her hand again, her cheeks aching from the smile she couldn’t seem to turn off.
Sandra walked her to the door but paused before Jo stepped into the hallway and let out a small laugh. “I just realized, you’ll be in good company here. Sandra, Johanna, and my assistant out there is Brenda.”
“We sound like an all-girl band.”
“It’s funny you should say that. Your name is beautiful, by the way, but I’ve never known a Johanna. I’ve only ever heard the name in a song my son wrote, actually.”
Johanna’s heart lurched to a stop. The smile froze on her face, and she swallowed hard before responding. “Your son—he’s in a band?” Her voice rose steadily with each word.
“Oh, yes.” Sandra beamed, oblivious to the cold sweat collecting on every inch of Jo’s skin. “His name is Greyson. Don’t even get me started on the name of their band, but their music seems to be popular with the younger crowds, and it pays the bills for him, so who am I to complain? I actually think his song ‘Johanna’ was his first big hit! Funny coincidences, huh?”
“Funny coincidences,” Jo murmured, locking her hands together behind her back to hide their trembling.
“Have a good rest of your afternoon!” Sandra patted her on the back and poked her head out into the hallway. “Be careful though, it looks like it’s pouring rain out there.”
Jo nodded, a numbness sloggily filling her body as she stumbled out to the reception area and took the papers from Sandra’s assistant. The woman smiled and said something Jo couldn’t make out from the roaring in her ears, so Jo just nodded and shoved the papers in her bag before heading outside.
The rain surged down, violently ricocheting off the sidewalk. The edges of Jo’s vision blurred, and she realized she couldn’t breathe. She sucked in shallow breath after breath, turning her head back and forth, suddenly so disoriented, she had no idea where to go.