by Portia Moore
Vincent breaks our staring contest as he holds out his arm for me to take. Even this small amount of physical contact sends a spark through me.
I step through the doorway and hear Mallory move to close the door behind us. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she whispers at me with a sneaky grin before she closes the door, leaving me alone with Vincent.
When our eyes meet, he gives me a smirk and pulls me forward, marching us to the parking lot where there sits a magnificent vintage Rolls Royce. The car is sexy and refined with a small amount of edge, sort of how Vincent seems. It fits him well.
I slide into the backseat after he opens the door for me. There is already another man in the car, in the driver’s seat. He looks over his shoulder at me and smiles. “Welcome, Miss Carlisle. I am Weston, Mr. Jamison’s driver.”
I smile back at the man. He’s older, maybe in his early fifties, dressed like any chauffeur that I would see in a movie. “Thank you, Mr. Weston,” I say, wondering how he knows my last name. I don’t remember telling it to Vincent, but then again, I didn’t even give him my phone number, and he found that out.
My eyes are torn away from his at the sound of the door opening. I look over to see Vincent slide into the seat next to me, and Weston pulls smoothly off as soon as the door is closed.
My anxiety is back full force now that I’m trapped in the backseat with Vincent. I can practically feel the heat roll off his body and surround me. His cologne fills the car and my senses. He’s invading my every thought, and it’s nearly impossible not to get sucked into him. His hair is so thick and dark; it's practically gleaming. The perfect amount of hair climbs up his chin. He looks back at me, and his thick lips spread into another smirk as his hand moves to rest on my thigh. The feeling that travels through my body at his touch is almost indescribable, and at this exact moment, I know Vincent Jamison is no good for me.
It’s also the moment when I realize that if I’m not careful, I won’t be able to stay away.
Chapter 10
Rain
Three years earlier
In two months I’ll be fifteen. I’m almost as old as Zach was when we met. I guess I can understand now why he treated me the way he did—like a little sister. I can’t imagine having a crush on a thirteen-year-old now.
But that doesn’t mean anything has changed about how I feel about Zach. He turns eighteen tomorrow, and if anything, him getting older has just intensified how I feel about him. We’ve stayed almost inseparable for the last year and a half—almost.
The red-headed girl, Melissa, didn’t become his girlfriend, but they dated. There were afternoons he missed catching the bus with me, and I knew it was because he’d met her after school. Tutoring her. I don’t really know what they were doing. But those first few afternoons I cried the entire way home.
I wouldn’t say I got over it, exactly. But I’ve dealt with it. Zach is my friend, first and foremost. And if the deepening of that friendship means that my crush slowly begins to form into something resembling first love—well, I do my best to ignore it. But when I say it’s hard, it’s more than that because Zach just keeps getting more and more hotter.
He’s still got that thick, unkempt blond hair, that’s darkened just a bit, and he’s taller by almost another foot. Muscles are suddenly appearing in his arms, where he used to be as skinny as a stick. He’s got an old project car he works on now, something he got around sixteen. He got a job working at one of the same gas stations that he and his buddies used to rip off, and I guess he managed to squirrel away enough money to buy that car. It runs, but barely. It also means I don’t have to take the bus anymore—although sometimes I still do.
Reason being, Zach has a girlfriend. His second one. And he picks her up and gives her a ride to school every morning—which means I sit in the backseat. I’ve literally taken a backseat to his new girlfriend, and I hate every second that I have to see her.
She’s absolutely gorgeous. Tall, long shiny brown hair, not a speck of makeup, but she always looks flawless anyway. She’s got this weird hippie style—bell-bottom jeans and short-sleeved knit tops with rainbows and desert shit on them, and she usually has some kind of flowered headband in her hair. I don’t know exactly what Zach sees in her—she always smells like incense and weed. But he’s completely enamored with her—and I’m still just the little sister, sitting in the backseat of his old Mustang.
I’ve managed to fix up my style a little too, though. Somewhere after fourteen, I started to take a little bit of an interest in clothes, and while I still have to go find my clothes secondhand, I’ve started being more discerning about my choices. Turns out there’s some cool stuff in thrift shops if you just dig hard enough. So instead of mom jeans that don’t fit and weird band t-shirts, I find stuff that if you squint hard enough, sort of look like the street style I see in magazines. Destructed jeans, frayed denim skirts–still t-shirts with band graphics, but I find old, cool ones. Not the stuff that is a year or two old and out of fashion, but vintage music. Fleetwood Mac shirts, the Ramones. I wear exclusively hi-top sneakers, wherever I can scavenge them from. I convinced my mom to let me get my waist-length hair cut to just below my shoulders, and as I approach fifteen, I feel like I’m actually starting to look pretty.
It’s gotten harder and harder to deal with Zach’s love life. There’s boys that flirt with me, too, but I don’t want anything to do with them in that way. I’ve only ever wanted Zach in that way, and so I’m stuck in this shitty position where I see him reciprocating the attention these girls give him, dating a couple of them, and never seeming to notice that I’d do anything for him to just notice me like that.
Which is why, when I go to look for him at lunch after my midday class and find him around the corner of the main building, with the brunette girl—I haven’t bothered to learn her name…Briane, Bianca, or something—and leaning against the wall while he reaches up to run his fingers through her hair, leaning in to kiss her, I fight the urge to throw up.
I clear my throat loudly, all of my frustration with the situation bubbling up as jealousy shoots through me, making me flush hot and turning everything I see into a haze of red.
“Rain!” Zach straightens up, but the damage is done. The girl looks at me, her eyes narrowing, clearly annoyed.
“Brigit, I’ll come find you, okay? Give me a minute with Rain.”
She rolls her eyes but slinks out from under his arm, walking off down the hallway with a pronounced sway to her hips. She glances over once to see if Zach is looking, but he’s not—he’s focused on me. Which makes me feel better…for a second, until he starts talking.
“What are you doing, Rain? Didn’t you see I was kind of busy?” His voice is raised, and he steps towards me, his expression one of frustration, but he has a ghost of a smile on his face. He never can be mad at me long. “Now Brigit is going to be pissed…”
“Oh, Brigit is going to be pissed.” I mimic him and roll my eyes. “What about me? What if I’m upset with you?”
“Why would you be pissed?” Zach asks, crossing his arms. “I already have to deal with her thinking it’s weird that we spend so much time together, and I’ve explained we’re just friends…”
“You shouldn’t have to explain!” I snap, my face flushing. I take a step closer, too. “We’ve known each other so much longer than you’ve known that girl!”
“Her name is Brigit.”
“I don’t care what her name is! She’s what, your second, third girlfriend? And what exactly do you do, Zach? Hang out? Go out to eat? Go to movies? I know you’re too broke for any of that, but you’ve got to impress them, right? Or do you just distract them with kissing and…and…” I break off, the idea of Zach doing anything more with these girls sending an ache through my chest that makes me feel temporarily breathless. We’re standing really close to one another now, and I can see the irritation in his face, but as his eyes lock onto mine, I don’t think about him being upset. All I can think about is how close
we are, how he could kiss me if he moved just a little bit closer, bent his head slightly. I’ve never been kissed before. I’ve always wanted Zach to be the first one, but the mean little voice inside of me sneers, That’ll never happen.
“I don’t like her,” I whisper. “I don’t like any of them. I want…”
His lips press together, and I see it clearly for the first time—the tension in his body, the way his eyes stay locked on mine, the struggle for him not to look down at my mouth. He feels it too! The air momentarily charges between us. He just won’t give in to it.
But he could…
“Rain…” Zach says, his voice deeper than usual. It sends a shiver through me to hear him say my name like that. “Rain…we can’t. I can’t.”
“Can’t what?” I look up at him defiantly, trying to make him say it. Make him admit that he’s holding us back from what we could have together.
But he just takes a step back, and the tension between us fizzles. He runs a hand through his hair, sighing. “I know you want us to be more than friends, Rain. I’ve always known it. But we can’t. That just can’t happen between us.”
“Why not?” I demand, hurt suddenly flooding me. He wants me, I can see it. So what is his problem? “Is it because I’m too young? Is that it?”
Zach just stays silent, looking at me pleadingly as if to ask me to stop, not to keep this fight going. But I’m too upset to stop.
“Just tell me why!” I almost shout, my voice rising. It squeaks on the last word, and I flush red, embarrassed. But I’m not backing down.
“I’d just hurt you, Rain,” Zach says quietly.
“You promised you’d always take care of me,” I shoot back, glaring at him. “So that doesn’t make any sense.”
“Exactly,” Zach says, his voice suddenly tired. “That’s why we can’t be…do what you want. I want to take care of you, to protect you from anything. And that includes myself.”
“You wouldn’t hurt me.”
“I don’t know if I would. Things are different when…other stuff gets involved…you don’t understand.”
Such simple logic. You’re hurting me now, I want to say. Every time I see you kissing some other girl. Every time I wonder if you’re falling in love with someone who isn’t me.
I should say something to reassure him, something to let him know I care about him, that I believe in his promise no matter what we are to each other. But I’m too upset and hurt to be kind. So I say something else, something cutting, because I’m hurt, and in that moment I want to hurt him back.
“I already have a sister,” I snap, turning on my heel. “I don’t need a brother, too.”
And I leave him standing there in the hallway, looking miserable.
11
Rain
Present day
During the car ride with Vincent, he talks a lot more than I thought he would. I thought he’d come off more brooding and mysterious. He’s still mysterious, but him being so conversational makes me a little more comfortable.
I take my opportunity when there is a lapse in the conversation.
“Vincent?”
He meets my gaze with an eyebrow raised and the hint of a smile.
“How did you find out so much about me when I only gave you my first name?” I sort of hold my breath after I ask this. Will he be offended? I shouldn’t care if he is, but I am alone with him in this car. Well, aside from the man that’s probably on his payroll.
He flashes his pearly teeth at me and chuckles. “You would be surprised how much information you can get on someone if you’re interested enough.”
He says it with ease, but it still sends a shiver straight down my spine. I have only given the man my first name, and I’m positive that he knows much more about me than I know about him
When the car stops, I’m hesitant to look out of the window. I have no idea where Vincent has planned to take me on this date. It’s obviously somewhere upscale considering how we’re dressed.
He gives me an almost mischievous grin before he gets out of the car and takes my hand to help me out. Vincent’s hand is almost twice as big as mine. I feel as if I’m in a different world. The last date I went on the guy not only didn’t help me out of the car but barely gave me time to catch the door when I walked in behind him.
The restaurant we’ve arrived at is beautiful. There are bright lights and flowers everywhere. I’ve never been to a place like this one, only seen it on TV in episodes of Real Housewives that Mallory binges.
Vincent smiles down at me. “What do you think?” he asks, and I’m surprised he can’t read my expression.
It’s breathtaking, even from the outside. There are tall windows surrounding the entire place that you can see through. Bright lights shine from the inside. I had expected something more dimly lit and private. This didn’t seem like the kind of place Vincent would pick from what I already knew about him.
He takes my arm and leads me once again. There’s no room for hesitation as I fall into stride with him. I know that tonight Vincent is in control. All I have to do is sit back and enjoy the ride.
He leads us into the restaurant and straight to the podium with a nicely dressed woman standing behind it.
“Mr. Jamison,” she greets. “Welcome. We have everything set up just the way you like it.”
He nods at the woman. “Thank you, Jane. I appreciate it as always.”
Without missing a beat, Vincent’s hand comes to rest on the small of my back and urges me forward. I look around the beautiful place, confused. Other than the restaurant staff that’s milling around, there is no one in the building, not a single customer.
I look up at Vincent. “Where is everyone?”
“I decided that we needed a little bit of privacy to get to know each other better,” he answers. I swallow hard. Did he just rent out the entire restaurant?
“So, you rented out the entire place?”
His deep laugh rumbles around us. “I don’t have to rent it, considering that I own it.”
There’s no answer that seems like the right thing to say. What do you say when you find out someone owns the most upscale restaurant that you have ever seen?
Vincent leads me to the heart of the restaurant. Most of the tables have been pushed to the outskirts of the room. Chairs are stacked nicely beside them. In the middle of the room, there’s a table with a single rose in the middle. The floor around the table is adorned with rose petals.
It the most beautiful and thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me.
In the last three days, Vincent has spent so much time, effort, and money on me, it’s heartwarming. All of this for me?
“I apologize if it feels a little awkward being here all alone. I thought you would like it.”
I smile up at him. “I don’t mind at all. It’s perfect. Thank you.”
Vincent’s mouth spreads into a satisfied grin as he uses his hand that still occupies the space on my back to nudge me towards the table. He moves in front of me so that he’s able to pull out my chair.
Vincent and I sit across from one another, his complete attention only on me.
“Can I ask you something, Rain?”
I nod. “Of course. Anything.”
The words have slipped past my lips too easily. I don’t realize the implications of what I’ve said until it’s too late. There are too many questions that Vincent could ask me that I don’t want to answer. I’m vulnerable enough; I don’t need to make it worse for myself.
A wonderful grin makes its way to his face.
“Are you dating anyone else?” he asks coolly.
I am shocked it’s his leading question. There are a dozen options that I had been expecting. This wasn’t one of them. If I was involved with someone else, then why in the world would I go out on a date with him tonight?
“No, I’m single,” I say with a slight shake of my head.
He seems happy about this from the light that dances in his eyes, but he doesn’t sm
ile. “Good to know. Are you ready for the next question?”
I smile in response.
“Would it be okay if I ordered for you?”
“Only if I can ask you a question,” I say with a smile.
I wait until he gives me a nod to continue before I ask, “How old are you?”
“Thirty-six.”
Thirty-six. I thought he would be thirty at the most, but it makes me feel a little bit better that he’s older than I thought, having all that it seems like he has. Even though I would be lying if I said that the age gap isn’t intimidating.
“I don’t mean to be blunt, but I don’t like to bullshit around,” he says, and I’m a little caught off guard. He comes across refined, really polished, and it makes his use of profanity a little jarring.
“Why were you shoplifting?”
I knew the question would come eventually. There isn’t really any way I would be able to escape the elephant in the room. I sigh before answering, “One of my roommates really screwed us over with our rent money. I did everything I could to make up the money we owed, but it wasn’t enough. It was a last resort. We were desperate, but it’s not something that I do for fun or anything. I’m so embarrassed.”
Vincent’s icy blue eyes never leave mine as he listens to my explanation. Once I finish, we both stay silent for a moment. I’m so ashamed of what I did, but I know that I had to do it. I also know that Vincent most likely won’t understand.
Finally, he lets out a breath before making eye contact with me.
“I respect what you did,” he tells me, a small smile finding his face.
What? He respects what I did?
“You do?” I ask in disbelief.
Vincent continues to meet my stare. “There are times in life where you’re tested, and you do what you have to, in order to pass, to survive. I haven’t always had what I do. Trust me, I understand.”
