The Unforgettable Kind

by Melanie Munton

  I angled my body so as to hide what was growing in my lap. My dick wanted to punch through my zipper anytime she so much as laid a finger on me. Hell, anytime she looked at me. Or said my name.

  “My dad and I love classic rock. It’s always been our thing. Most of the concerts were trips we went on for my birthday.”

  “Which one was your favorite? If you had to pick one.”

  Did she have to lick her ice cream like that? Stopping for ice cream had been the worst idea in the history of the universe. All I could think about when her pink tongue slid along the frozen confection was what it would feel like sliding along my dick instead. What she would look like on her knees in front of me. Her blond hair a curtain around her face. I would tuck it behind her ears so I could see the way her lips wrapped around—

  “Kade?”

  I shook myself out of yet another Sam fantasy.

  “Hard to say. Probably a toss-up between AC/DC and Van Halen. Slash’s guitar solo was sick, the best I’d ever seen. Then we went to Van Halen and Eddie just murdered ‘Eruption.’ It was crazy. That was also the last concert we went to before—”

  My parents split up was going to be the end of that sentence, but I stopped myself at the last second. I could feel Sam’s eyes on me, but I refused to meet them. I wasn’t ready to crack open that personal egg with her yet.

  “Before we moved here.”

  “I’ve never been to a concert,” she said, sounding almost forlorn. “Plenty of NFL games, though, and those probably get just as wild as any concert. Football fans are nuts.”

  “You’re one to talk.”

  The look she sent me was full of mischief. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

  I wiped my mouth with a napkin and then chucked it into the trashcan a few feet away. “So, that’s not you on the sidelines at every game, yelling and stomping your feet like a child throwing a temper tantrum?”

  She huffed indignantly. Coming from any other girl it might have been annoying. Coming from Sam? It was downright adorable.

  “If Coach Levins would call the right plays I wouldn’t have to yell.”

  “I can’t believe he hasn’t responded to you cussing him out,” I deadpanned.

  She snorted, her hand covering her mouth to stifle the sound. “I guess I could keep some thoughts to myself.”

  “I don’t know.” I rubbed my chin in thought. “That line last week about his four-year-old son calling better slant route plays than him was pretty good.”

  Her green eyes sparkled with laughter. The setting sun cast a warm glow over her face, making her hair shine like gold.

  “You should see me at Drake’s games. Security came down and talked to me one time because everyone around me thought I was hammered. They take underage drinking seriously at those things.”

  I busted a gut just picturing that scene. “I knew from the moment I met you that you were trouble, Sam Lawrence.”

  And that was putting it mildly.

  We’d been sitting on this picnic table together while we finished our ice cream cones, watching the sun set over Forsyth Park, talking about the most random of topics. From the kinds of music and movies we liked to the places we wanted to travel to someday. To my absolute delight, I’d learned that she loved classic rock, too, and most 80s music in general. I hadn’t met many girls who didn’t strictly listen to rap or Taylor Swift or Demi Lovato. Just one more thing to like about her.

  Unfortunately, this perfect moment with her was a good news/bad news situation. The good news was I was getting to know her better, laying a foundation for…whatever our relationship was. The bad news was that our relationship was still just a friendship. And this conversation was only making that fact more maddening. It wasn’t as if I needed to like her any harder than I already did.

  “How are you liking Mason?” she asked after we sat in silence for a few minutes.

  I liked that she was comfortable without having to say anything. Most girls I knew would have to fill the silence with mindless chatter. I was quickly learning that nothing about Sam was conventional.

  “It must be pretty boring compared to Atlanta, right?”

  A brisk breeze blew over us, forcing her to inch closer to me, using my body heat to warm herself. I desperately wanted to curl my arms around her and hug her close, but I knew that kind of intimacy was wrong and would scare her off.

  “It’s actually pretty nice.” I was surprised at my own answer. “Mason has a charm that’s harder to find in bigger cities.” I bumped her knee with mine. “And the people are okay, I guess.”

  She grinned. “You aren’t exactly what I would have expected, you know.”

  “Can’t wait to hear this.”

  She pulled her hands inside her flannel shirt, using the sleeves as makeshift gloves. “I just figured you’d be, I don’t know…cockier or something. Arrogant and all-superior. The way people talk guys like you up usually incites a certain kind of attitude.”

  “Jaded much?”

  She shrugged. “I guess I assumed because that’s kind of how my brother is. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a great brother and I love him a lot. But he’s changed over the years. I think it’s just a defense mechanism because of…”

  I remained quiet while she gathered her thoughts. I wanted her to trust me with anything. And I knew from my own personal experiences that pushing and asking too many questions wouldn’t get me anywhere.

  She laughed bitterly. “I guess by now you’ve already heard what went down with my dad.”

  I winced, suddenly wishing I hadn’t heard a thing. “Just a little. But I’ve never been the type to believe everything I hear.”

  “In this case, the gossip is probably accurate.” Her eyes were downcast as she picked at a thread on her jeans, her voice becoming detached. “Ever since Dad did what he did, it’s almost like Drake’s lowered his own standards of what’s expected of him. As if it’s assumed he’ll turn out exactly like our father, so he’s acting out ironically. But the funny thing is, I never thought my father was a bad person until he cheated. I don’t think anyone did. As weird as it sounds, I think that’s what I’m struggling with more than anything.”

  I thought about the situation with my own parents and understood what she was saying. “Sometimes good people do bad things.”

  “But shouldn’t that make them bad people? How can someone remain a good person after doing something like that?”

  She turned to me, those emerald pools full of need. It wasn’t lusty need but something that made my heart pound even harder. She was looking at me for answers. For me to make sense of whatever was going on in her life, inside her head. That was a lot of responsibility, and suddenly I didn’t know if I was worthy of all her trust. I could barely understand my own family situation, let alone her far more complicated one.

  “I can’t say whether they’re good or bad, Sam. All I can tell you is that everyone makes mistakes, even good people. They might normally have good judgment, but other things get in the way of that.”

  “Like what?” she whispered, her desperation to understand evident in her voice.

  I swallowed, feeling sweat break out on my forehead despite the cool temperature. “Love, guilt, lust…need. Some emotions can be so powerful that they take control of you. They can make you forget what you should do, and only leave room for what you want to do. Some people aren’t strong enough to fight against that, I guess.”

  I couldn’t believe I was actually saying these things. Was I justifying my mother’s actions? Or Sam’s father’s betrayal? Was I rationalizing their behavior, making it okay?

  No. Cheating was never okay. Never.

  She turned to me, her expression grave. “Have you ever felt like that, Kade?”

  I couldn’t have turned away from her if my life depended on it. Because what I hadn’t realized until that very moment was that I did feel like that, with her. Only her. I still couldn’t fully grasp how people like our parents could abandon their fam
ilies, their own children, for an illicit affair. But I was beginning to understand the temptation that could lead to such decisions. Sam made all sense leave my brain whenever she looked at me like she was now. I wanted to forget, just for a moment, that she had a boyfriend and that his father could fire my dad. Just for a moment, I wanted so badly to touch her the way I’d been craving to. Sometimes I got the sense that she wanted it, too. But I couldn’t tell for sure.

  Then I considered her question.

  Would giving into our desires make us bad people? Yes, right? I honestly didn’t know.

  What I did know was that so much could happen in just one moment.

  One error in judgment could destroy lives.

  “No,” I lied. “I’ve never felt that way.”

  I’d been battling over whether or not to tell her about my own parents. Maybe she wouldn’t feel so alone in her struggles, like no one else understood what she was feeling. But something stopped me. I hated feeling vulnerable. And ever since my mom’s affairs were brought to light, I’d felt that vulnerability stab through me with painful precision. I wasn’t ready for Sam to see me like that. To give her a glimpse into my fractured heart, exposing part of my soul to her sympathy or God forbid, her pity.

  She nodded and glanced down at her watch. “It’s getting late. I should head home.”

  Yes. It was getting late. Perhaps it was too late.

  Too late for me.

  Because I think I’d already fallen for this girl.

  Chapter Nine

  “Lovin’ Touchin’ Squeezin’”

  by Journey

  Now

  Sam

  “He was trying to get me to grope him by groping me under the table,” I tell Jasmine between gulps, yes gulps, of wine. “After everything he’s done he thinks he can pull that crap? The man has no shame.”

  Jaz signals our server for another round before turning back to me. “If I can interrupt this drunken rant for a second—”

  “I’m not drunk,” I protest. “I’m…tingly. In a good way.”

  She just gives me a look.

  “Fine. Just say what you’re going to say.”

  “If you really didn’t want him to touch you, you wouldn’t have grabbed his leg in the first place.” She watches my reaction over the rim of her glass as she takes a sip. “Like it or not, hate it or not, you’re still attracted to the guy.”

  I’ll concede the point. No sense in denying it. Objectionably, yes, Kade is still as fine as he ever was. Even more so now.

  “It’s hard to forget the best sex you’ve ever had.”

  It’s also hard to forget how he’d vamoosed right out of my life after that sex. Our one and only night together, after so much time waiting for it. Then he hit the road once he finally hit it. As much as I hate to admit it, that still stings like a mother.

  I give all the men sitting in the bar cursory glances and am somewhat disappointed, as per usual. From one sweep, without even seeing most of their faces, I already know that none of them measure up to Kade.

  He’s not the measuring stick!

  No, the measuring stick is in his pants.

  Stop!

  The man doesn’t deserve placement on any pedestal.

  “So, he didn’t explain what happened all those years ago?” she asks. “Why he left and never came back?”

  When our server arrives with our drinks, I swipe mine off the tray before she can even place it on the table. “I told him I didn’t want to talk about it. Ever. I mean, what does it matter now? It was years ago and frankly, I don’t need to hear his excuses.”

  “It matters because it would give you some closure, which you desperately need.”

  My eyes snap up to hers. “What does that mean?”

  Her expression turns skeptical. “You really don’t think your feelings about Kade affected your relationship with Aaron?”

  “What are you talking about?” I sputter, outraged. “Kade had nothing to do with that.”

  She reaches over the table and lays her hand over mine. “Honey, I love you, but I think you’ve been working around men so long that you’re starting to absorb their obliviousness. You and Kade never settled things after he left, and it screwed you up, at least emotionally. You don’t trust people anymore, which is why you never fully trusted Aaron. You expect every man to leave or disappoint you somehow. Maybe if you and Kade talked things out, it might help you get past some of your hang-ups.”

  I’ve learned to tune out my best friend when she’s making too much sense and I don’t want her to.

  “I broke up with Aaron because we weren’t compatible. He’s ready for the whole marriage and kids thing now and I’m not.” At least not the kids part. Marriage I wouldn’t mind. Just not with Aaron.

  Not that I ever held that against him. He’s ten years older than me, so it makes sense that he’s ready to start a family. I prefer to blame our break-up on that fact, that we’re just in different places in our lives, rather than on the truth. Which is basically what Jasmine just eluded to. That I don’t trust people anymore and don’t let them get to know me, therefore no one ever gets too close. Aaron had accused me of being a commitment phobe, and maybe he’s right. I kept him at a distance for our entire relationship, shutting him out when things got too serious. I guess turning down his proposal didn’t help his perception of me.

  But I’d been ready to commit to someone once upon a time.

  And look how that turned out.

  Kade’s decision to walk away and end whatever we were had been a tough lesson for me, but a necessary one. I hadn’t realized how much of my life had been consumed by him back then until he was no longer in it. So much of my happiness had been dependent on him. I hadn’t comprehended the severity of such dependence until I went into a brief depression myself after it dawned on me that he wasn’t coming back.

  So, I made my own decision.

  To never again need someone so badly.

  All those people end up breaking your heart. I should have learned that lesson with my dad when he cheated on my mom and abandoned us. But it turns out that Kade’s abandonment was a much harsher reality to face, the reasons for which I’ve been steadfastly ignoring—and denying—for the past eight years.

  To be honest, I probably owed a lot of my success to the pivotal change my life took after he left. I shaped myself into a different person after our last fight. I became more focused on my goals, more determined. I learned to not get as easily distracted by emotions or feelings because they don’t get you what you want in life. Hard work, self-motivation, and guts do. I vowed back then to never give all of myself to another person again. Because if they have all of me and then walk away, which seems to be an established pattern in my life, what will be left of me after they’re gone?

  Answer: nothing. I would never be whole again, as cliché as that might sound.

  Which is pretty much what happened after Kade left.

  I haven’t felt like my full self since then. There always seems to be something missing or off-kilter. Aaron knew it, saw it, but didn’t want to accept it until I told him I didn’t want to marry him.

  Our split had been big news after it went viral. As the son of the NFL commissioner, Aaron is well-known in the sporting world. Everyone wanted the scoop of what broke us up, but we agreed to never speak publicly about what went down between us. The gossip rags had certainly speculated enough. He was having an affair. I was having an affair. He was too old. I was too career-oriented. And on and on. We split months ago, and I’m still dealing with the backlash.

  The bottom line is he couldn’t handle my M.O. when it came to relationships, and he eventually figured out I’m not going to change. It’s not like I consciously meant to pull back every time he pushed. I never wanted to hurt him. I just don’t know how to be any other way.

  Now, on top of everything, I have to deal with Kade coming back into my life?

  I keep on chugging my wine.

  “As for Kad
e,” I tell Jaz, “he closed the book on that story a long time ago. And it’s never coming back off the shelf. We were never meant to be together—that’s obvious. Now, we just work together. And we don’t have to like each other for that. We just have to get along.”

  She doesn’t let it go. “The question of why Kade did what he did has been eating at you for eight years. If you don’t put everything out there and ask him about it, one of these days you’re going to explode on him.”

  “That’s for me to worry about. We’re done with this topic. How’s work going? Has Cora stopped riding your ass?”

  Her face scrunches in disgust. And dammit, the woman is still drop dead gorgeous. I’ve always told her she bears an uncanny resemblance to Jamie Chung, and that if she ever gives up the fashion designer dream, she could easily be a model.

  “Nope. Riding it hard like a jockey at the Kentucky Derby.”

  Jaz is a buyer for a designer who’s trying to get her flagship boutique in downtown Atlanta off the ground. It’s just a means to an end for now while she works on her own designs. Got to make money somehow she says.

  “Did you send your designs into that one agency in New York?”

  She nods. “Yeah. The submission and review process takes forever, so they said I probably won’t hear anything for at least the next twelve weeks.”

  “And they only take one person?”

  From what she said that was out of hundreds, if not thousands, of designers submitting their portfolios, all vying for one position. I’m not familiar with the prestigious New York agency, but apparently they’re responsible for representing some of the best young designers in the business. They scour the nation for the freshest minds to hire and essentially, to invest their money in. If she gets this, she’ll basically have every resource at her fingertips: a space, the materials, the employees, the connections. Her entire dream.

  She bites down on her lower lip. “Yeah. It’s a long shot.”