Lunchtime Chronicles: Sweet Georgia Peach

by POSEY PARKS

  My friends got a kick out of listening to me.

  I stuffed buttered rolls in each side of my mouth and I sat across the dining table from Maxon, Deacon, Lakelyn, Rayne, and Sylvie. Tilting back on the hind legs of the chair, I said, “Gli farò un'offerta che non può rifiutare. I’m gonna make him an offer he can’t refuse.

  They burst into laughter every time. A smile fell across my lips, thinking about my friends, wishing they were here.

  I came from a football family. My grandfather, dad, and uncle all were professional football players.

  Some say I was born with athletic abilities. Or, the football gene.

  Many players hated me because of my legacy. I fought opposing teammates after football games in high school locker rooms and on college campuses. They wanted to shit on my greatness. Putting them back in their places left me with bruised knuckles and a sore jaw, but it was worth it. I wouldn’t take anyone’s shit lying down.

  Several teams had their eyes on me today.

  It wasn’t a secret I dreamed of playing for my home team in Atlanta like my dad. The San Francisco Forty-Niners had the number one draft pick. Their general manager Johnny Farland attended many of my high school games. It felt like his only mission was to put me in a red and gold uniform. The Forty-Niners could choose me and crush my dreams of playing for my favorite team.

  There were other reasons I desired to play in Atlanta. It was my hometown, and that was where my first love Lakelyn resided. Grant it she had no idea how deep my feelings were for her.

  An hour later, the call came.

  Holding the phone steady, I answered.

  “Hello, this is Wyatt Oakley speaking.”

  “Hello, Wyatt. This is the general manager from the Atlanta Falcons. Are you ready to play some football?”

  I exhaled, then threw my fist in the air. “Yes, sir. This is a dream come true. Thank you,” I stated, with a southern twang.

  “See you soon.” He disconnected the call.

  My family’s screams thudded my ears. A staff member gave me a red and black Falcons baseball cap before escorting me on stage.

  My entire body shook with excitement.

  “Wyatt Oakley is the number ten draft pick for the Atlanta Falcons,” the commissioner announced.

  Hundreds of people wearing their favorite team jerseys shouted and swung colorful props in the air to express their joy. I waved to the audience as I sauntered toward the NFL commissioner and embraced him.

  The moment I stepped off the stage, I shoved my earbuds in my ears and made a FaceTime call.

  “Hello.” I stared at the screen. My cheeks hurt from smiling so hard.

  She placed one finger up as she ran out of the living room, away from prying eyes. Thank God she had in her earbuds.

  “Oak, you did it. I’m so proud of you.” Lakelyn jumped up and down. Her natural black curls were pulled up into a ponytail on top of her head, just the way I liked. Yelling and screaming blared through the phone. I knew my best friend and their family were watching the draft. God, she was beautiful. Lakelyn’s hazel eyes beamed.

  The excitement in her voice brought me comfort.

  “Thanks for believing in me.”

  “You’re welcome,” she blushed.

  There wasn’t time to hold a conversation, but I had to see her smile. I wished I could kiss her hot, pink pouty lips.

  “Go and be great, Oak. Show the NFL you are their best player.”

  “I will. Talk to you later.”

  Maxon, Rayne, Sylvie, and Lakelyn congratulated me in a group text and attached a pic of an Atlanta Journal Constitution newspaper headline:

  Twenty-year-old Wyatt Oakley is Atlanta Falcons' newest wide receiver.

  Several scouts were after me during my senior year. I considered playing pro ball fresh out of high school. But enjoying life as a college student was more important at the time, so I waited.

  The Notre Dame coach said he hated to lose another great player. He said my drive and determination on the field would take me far.

  I glanced at a text from my best friend before I met with the press.

  Deacon: You did it, Oak. Congratulations!

  Me: Thanks, Deac.

  The day flew by at lightning speed.

  After leaving the second draft party, I fell on the firm king-sized bed. At least thirty women stuffed their phone numbers in my pockets. NFL stardom brought a new kind of trouble. Gold digging women. They wanted a piece of the American dream and they’d use me to gain access. Not a chance I’d leave home without condoms. I was ready for all the bullshit to come.

  **P**

  Standing in the Mercedes Benz stadium as an Atlanta Falcons wide receiver felt like a dream. During the second half of my first game, I sat on the bench and sucked down a cup of Gatorade. I felt a powerful urge to peek over my shoulder. The woman who made my heart stop sat in the second row. That beautiful smile I loved so much greeted me. Lakelyn’s long, dark hair cascaded over her shoulders. Twisting Lakelyn’s strands around my fist and taking her from behind flashed in my head. I blinked twice, ridding the dirty thoughts from my mind for now. Maybe Deacon, Sylvie, and Rayne ran to grab refreshments. I didn’t care. That spark we shared a few years ago came rushing back.

  It was only a matter of time before I asked Lakelyn out to dinner. But in the meantime, I settled for her presence at the game during the season.

  After the season ended, I shot her a friendly text here and there. Then we talked on the phone.

  The second year, we graduated to dinner and drinks after the football season came to a close. One night I invited her to have dinner with me at a new hotel in downtown Atlanta. By the end of the night, we checked into a room for one night, which turned into a long weekend. We didn’t put a label on what we had. Over the years, we traveled in secret and agreed we were just fucking each other from time to time.

  I guess you could say I went along with that bullshit. The last two years I realized I had to make her my woman. During that time, we hadn’t dated other people. Well, no one outside of the women I kept as fillers, so Deacon wouldn’t suspect I was spending time with his sister.

  CHAPTER THREE

  LAKELYN

  Over the years, I interacted with Wyatt at events. Putting my feelings aside, we talked football. That was our safety net. My brother never gave us a second look when we shared our love of the game. He thought of me as one of the guys more often than not. I only knew so much about sports, because dad and Deacon debated about football and basketball daily.

  One afternoon when I was thirteen-years-old, I sat watching a football game with my brother and his friends. Mainly because Wyatt was over. Before I knew what was happening, I became obsessed with the game.

  I dreamed of becoming a doctor one day. The career shift changed at the age of sixteen. Assisting injured players was the new goal. Sports medicine. That was also around the time I realized wearing oversized T-shirts and baggy jeans didn’t interest me anymore. Deacon didn’t understand why I no longer dressed like a tomboy. The makeup and tight jeans became a distraction at school.

  My brother asked me to tone down my attire. Hiding my body wasn’t an option. I loved my new look.

  Deacon, Maxon, and Wyatt spent most mornings at my locker bullying guys who tried asking me out on a date. If a guy smacked my ass, he received a blow to the face from me, my brother, or one of our friends. My body was my temple, and I demanded my respect. Deacon didn’t play either. No one would take advantage of his little sister.

  Wyatt never treated me any less than a princess. Tomboy or not. I loved that about him.

  My brother breathed over my shoulder whenever a boy came to visit. Treated the guys like shit. I laughed under my breath more than I should’ve. Dad didn’t have to say a word. Deacon was over protective enough for both of them.

  One day, Wyatt invited me to attend an Atlanta Hawks game. He said we’d be amongst his family in their skybox. I thought nothing of it until he asked me to si
t next to him, away from everyone. Wyatt’s hand touched mine on the armrest we shared. We fought playfully in the past, but this was different. Heat swept through me. I didn’t want to move. Our physical attraction was front and center. Around our friends we shied away from each other. But today, we were in our own bubble.

  Wyatt and I sat beside each other again in the skybox at the second game we attended. I felt his gaze roaming my body. His long jean clad leg brushed my bare skin. Maybe I should’ve wore jeans instead of the knee length navy colored jersey dress. Tingles danced over my skin. My eyes kept gravitating to the red Hawks T-shirt he wore. Well, really his chest. I’d seen him at football practice a thousand times shirtless, but I’d give anything to run my fingers over his gorgeous pecs.

  Pay attention to the game, Lakelyn.

  “God, you’re beautiful,” he breathed against my ear.

  Fuck, I was in trouble. Butterflies worked overtime in my tummy and I shuddered in my seat. Not to mention if he didn’t stop staring, he’d see the beads of sweat I willed not to fall.

  I swallowed. “Thank you.”

  His hand covered mine. Again, I didn’t want the moment to end.

  “Deacon caught me staring at you one day.”

  I peeked up at him as my jaw slacked. “What did he say?”

  “He made me promise never to pursue you.”

  “And?”

  “I told him I’d respect his wishes.”

  My heart plummeted to my feet. What did I think he’d say? Screw you?

  “Deacon noticed I usually only came into the family room to watch the game when you came over. If Maxon was there, I’d say hi and return to my room. He said I could never be with you, because it would destroy your friendship.”

  Wyatt’s jaw ticked. He threaded our fingers and brought my hand up and planted his soft lips against my skin.

  Wyatt didn’t say a word.

  After the game, Wyatt and I met a few of the players outside of the locker room. We continued strolling down a long hall. He peeked over his shoulder, grabbed my hand, then pulled me into an empty suite.

  I tried yanking my hand away, but his big hand squeezed tighter. “Give me your other hand,” he growled, as he halted near a black wall.

  The expression was unlike any I’d ever seen on Wyatt’s face. Vulnerability.

  He closed the space between us. Cranking my neck to stare into his handsome face brought me solace. The time he stole to be with me was sweet, but oh so wrong.

  “I’ve liked you for a long time, Lakelyn.”

  My cheeks heated. “I liked you, too.”

  More like loved you since forever. The truth could never leave my lips. Lusting for my brother’s best friend was stupid and unfruitful.

  “This is a selfish act,” I whispered.

  He released my hand and held my chin. “I need to kiss those gorgeous lips. Just once.”

  “Then kiss me,” I uttered breathlessly. My lips parted.

  His mouth fell upon mine. Our lips twisted in a sweet, forbidden kiss that was so hot—my body was on fire.

  I palmed his broad chest, pushing my tongue into his mouth. Wyatt’s large hands cupped my ass. A wave of heat struck my body.

  Our tongues danced like they knew this would be the last time we’d share something so sinful.

  I withdrew my tongue. “We have to stop. My brother...”

  “He’d kill me.” His eyes flicked cold. “I wouldn’t go down without a fight.” He swept his lips across mine again and again.

  Bracing my hand on his chest, I met his dark gray gaze. “The kiss was perfect. I’ll cherish it forever.” My fingers caressed his cheek.

  “Wyatt, I’m ready to go home.”

  “I don’t want to stop seeing you.”

  “Doesn’t matter what we want, Oak.”

  It was so hard to walk away from him.

  **P**

  The night Wyatt and I gave into our desires for one another, was better than the many times I dreamed of giving myself to him. Nuzzling against his hard pecs after we pleased each other five times, I dozed off in his bulging arms. I expected to wake up in his bed alone the next morning. Wyatt stirred and caressed my ass. “I don’t want to let you go.”

  When he murmured those words, I wondered if he recited those words to his many chicks.

  The sun cascaded across our half-covered bodies. If we could’ve been in a relationship, I’d kiss his narrow nose, trace my tongue over the dip in his top lip, brush his fine black thick brows, and whip my fingers over his creased forehead. I swear he was deep in thought all the time. I felt the urge to thread my fingers through his inky black slick short hair. The man was ripped all over. Every sculpted muscle begged to be kissed. Then I’d let his long, thick cock shatter my walls again and again.

  His dark gray eyes popped open. They mimicked a treacherous storm brewing. “Lakelyn, one day you’ll be my woman.”

  My heart lurched in my chest at his honesty. My fingers swept along the outline of his thin, yet slightly pouty lips. Holding the tears at bay, I smiled. That was all I could muster. I gave the only man I ever cared about my virginity. The moment was bitter sweet. And the time came to walk away.

  **P**

  At twenty-four, I ate, drank, and breathed medical school. In the morning, I immersed myself in my studies and by one in the afternoon, I helped athletes with vigorous recovery exercises. My dad, being the best attorney in Atlanta and all, called in a favor. I had my dream job with a top clinic near the Atlanta Falcons stadium.

  I FaceTimed with my girls, Rayne and Sylvie, whenever I got a chance. Sometimes, we’d drink together on a call. This was one of those nights. I propped my phone against my rose azalée Birkin bag resting on the gray and white marble bar. The patrons throughout Bar Margot inside the Four Seasons hotel probably thought I was crazy.

  Fuck it.

  You only live once, right? My driver Brock who doubled as my bodyguard sat in a black tufted leather armchair at a round mahogany wooden table a few feet away. His dark brown dreads were pulled back into a neat ponytail. The vibrant, colorful tiger tattoo on the side of his neck stood out against his dark chocolate skin. Not to mention his muscled six two frame even in a suit said fuck off. If a motherfucker tried me, I’d knee him in the balls and let Brock handle the rest. It paid to be rich.

  My father owned various businesses all over the world. Not to mention he was one of the top black corporate attorneys in the country. Our law firms could be found in all the big cities and across the pond. I never had to work. Daddy was so driven in everything he did business wise my brother and I were determined to be just as good if not better than him.

  Yes, we were a black wealthy family and I wouldn’t apologize to anyone for our financial security. We had so much money, my kids, kids, kids wouldn’t have to work. Only other family in our neighborhood with wealth like ours was Maxon’s. They were billionaire’s, too. They had old money. My father was considered new money.

  Rich people didn’t walk the streets alone unless they wanted to get kidnapped. Hence the bodyguard. Even the days Oak and I walked home together, Brock followed at a distance. He loved his job. No way would he sacrifice his income because two lusting teens desired time alone.

  Earbuds secured in my ears; I sipped the last of the contents in my glass.

  Sylvie’s big brown curls swayed over her shoulders as she danced to the beat of No Promises by Demi Lovato.

  Rayne jumped up from the upscale bar at Sheer in downtown L.A. twirling, singing the lyrics.

  “Rayne, this is your life.”

  “No bitch, this is your life with Oak.”

  Ignoring her words, I shook my ass to the beat. She was right, and I hated hearing the truth.

  I sank into the tan plush and black suede chair as the song ended.

  “Sylvie, where’s Tyler?”

  “In the hotel room relaxing. Today was grueling in good old Augusta. We catered to five hundred business professionals at a pharmaceuticals co
nference. He needs sleep and I need a drink.”

  We laughed.

  “Sylvie, I wholeheartedly agree with you. My test was excruciating. Medicinal Chemistry is a bitch. I don’t want to think about metabolic products for at least two days,” I chuckled.

  “Girl, I am so proud of you. Sylvie, can you believe our best friend will be a doctor in two years?” Rayne cheered.

  Sylvie clapped, the fabric of her dress swaying all around her. “Yes!” I loved the cream sleeveless summer dress she wore.

  Rayne loved tiny dresses. Mainly because Maxon complemented her every time. Sylvie and I believe she wore them for him. The one shoulder gray chiffon tight dress hugged her curves.

  “I want that dress, Rayne.”

  “Oh no, Lakelyn, I call dibs. That dress is fierce.”

  Rayne stood and spun.

  “Yes, work it, girl.” I snapped my fingers in the air twice.

  “Lakelyn, let us sneak a peek. That black strappy off the shoulder, tiny dress is banging on you.”

  I stepped back, pressing my index finger against my cheek, puckered my lips and glanced at the ceiling. My dark high ponytail swung to the side. “This old thing.” I kicked up the nude Christian Louboutin behind me.

  “Let’s order another drink.” I tapped the counter, gaining the bartender's attention. My eyes marveled at the top shelf selection of wine and liquor encased by glass.

  “Sylvie, put that drink down and wait.”

  The gold step bar gave me a little height as I leaned on my elbow over the bar under the silver decorative light fixtures.

  She chuckled, flashing her pearly whites. The purple eyeshadow popped against her dark skin.

  “Bee, I’ll have another Georgia...”

  “...peach martini,” the familiar deep vocals swept through my body in waves.

  Don’t make eye contact, Lakelyn.

  My smile diminished.

  Sylvie and Rayne didn’t notice. They were too busy dancing.

  “And what would you like to drink, sir?”

  “Johnny Walker blue neat.”

  “Coming right up.” Bee glanced at me. “He’s cute,” she mouthed.