Falling for Seven

by T. A Richards Neville

  “I know I’m not the only one who feels this.” He motioned between us. “When we’re in a room together… everyone can feel it. You can’t hide from me.”

  “I can’t be with you, Julian. We both made that clear from the start. And even if I wanted to, what is it going to be next? You’re the guy that breaks hearts, you can’t help it. You’ll get bored of me eventually. This infatuation will wear off. You only want me because you can’t have me.”

  I was an expert on wanting all things unattainable.

  “That’s the biggest cop-out I ever heard.”

  I held up the protected assignment. “Thanks for this, but I’m going to be late.”

  He moved out of my so I could get in the car.

  “Julian!” My voice carried through the rain and he turned to look at me. “She’s gone. You were right.”

  “I didn’t want to be,” he said, the rain beating down on him. I nodded. If everything else he said was a lie, he meant that. I got in the car and and I somehow kept from looking back as I drove home.

  <>

  “As soon as we touch down in Los Angeles, Mario no longer exists.” Marilyn scanned the pages of her Cosmopolitan magazine and I took the papers from their packet, setting Julian’s assignment on the pull-down table in front of me.

  “You don’t mean that,” I said, smiling at her blatant front. “But don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

  I smoothed down the crinkled edges and started to read. There was only one sentence written down.

  ~

  Come hell and high water, this isn’t over, Angel.

  ~

  Epilogue

  April 27th

  Six months later

 

  Julio: I don’t know if I can meet tonight. Was on my way to you and saw this insanely beautiful girl. I wish you could see what I am seeing. She’s incredible. Rain check? ;)

  I smiled at the text, scooping my falling sleeve back onto my shoulder. I looked around the beach from my spot on the sand, my legs stretched in front of me and my toes sinking into the cool yellow grains. I couldn’t see Julio but that didn’t mean he wasn’t there. Creeping anticipation warned me he was close. We had been dating for five weeks and things were good. Stress free, anxiety free—perfect, plain sailing. Julio Velez owned a tattoo parlor on Venice boardwalk and he was the sexiest thing this side of Los Angeles. He was six-two of pure and untainted Puerto Rican genes.

  “You know you only fuck guys whose name begins with J. It’s like you have a disorder.”

  I smiled, thinking about Marilyn back in Boston and her mildly accurate self-drawn conclusion. Three J’s, and three’s a charm, right?

  I twisted a finger of hair along the nape of my neck and pulled my lip between my teeth, holding onto my grin.

  Me: Funny you should say that, cuz I just saw the most gorgeous guy.

  My phone was ripped from my grasp as Julio tackled me from behind, his taut body covering mine, pinning me under him. “I don’t like you sitting here alone, Chula. Some chump gonna come along and think you are good for the taking.” His full lips suffocated mine and I gripped my hands into his short hair. Hands slid around to my back, lifting me up against his chest, his strong heartbeat thudding against mine. He growled deep in his throat, his lips bruising my jaw. “Mami, I am going wild over here.”

  Oh yeah, Julio and I had also never had sex. So unless he was getting it from someone else, he was currently celibate, causing tense heat to sizzle whenever he got within inches of me. Tease wasn’t a word I aspired to be associated with, but I was afraid that was how he was starting to see me.

  “I’ll stay with you,” I said, gasping when he nibbled down on my earlobe, his tongue snaking to my neck. “But I can’t promise you anything.”

  Tattoos ran from his neck to his chest, each design unique and all black—no color. He didn’t need the color—he was the color. Every time we were close I wanted to take a few hours out of the day and study the self-designed art-work that decorated his caramel skin. They were part of his beauty and appeal. Dark and dangerous, sweet and light.

  I yanked open the top buttons of his shirt, smoothing my hands over his branded skin, tracing the permanent sketching’s that made Julio, well, Julio. He was beyond a shadow of a doubt beautiful. So why couldn’t I give myself to him? Truly give all of myself to this man who treated me with more care than a princess.

  “I have lost you again. Come back to me, Angel. Don’t go someplace I can’t follow you.”

  His kiss found me and I snapped out of it. Now wasn’t the time to think of Julian. There was never a suitable time to be thinking of him. Just the fact that he would be in Chicago tomorrow at the NFL Draft, soaring into his future like he had always planned, was reason enough not to think about him. It was his big day, not mine. He had family to share that with. I wasn’t part of his life anymore. I would never be part of it again. He was the past, Julio could be my future. If I wanted it, he was mine.

  “I gotta handle a few more appointments at the shop,” Julio said between sweet, little kisses. “Go home, change, and wait for me to come pick you up.” He helped me up, and I wiped the sand from my shorts. A frail breeze swept in from the ocean and I combed wayward strips of hair from my eyes. “Wear something revealing,” Julio said, his sexy smile meeting the curve of his dark-brown eyes. “Something red.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll find out when we get there.”

  “Okay.”

  He stepped away, backwards, his fingers slipping from mine. When he was gone, I followed the sunset home. My one-story, one bed, one bath house, five minutes from the hustle and bustle of Venice beach, was by no means extravagant or even particularly big. But it was mine. All mine. Well, I paid rent, and to my pops, but with my own money. I was just lucky he was so loving and reasonable with the price. And I had a part time job at the ice rink as a figure skating instructor, which would go into full time once I earned my certificates and I graduated. I wasn’t depending on my dad, my mom, this one was all me. And I’d never felt more independently satisfied. I was in a damn good place in my life. Only problem was, it wasn’t great. No part of it sent me spinning over the edge—had me excited for the next daybreak.

  My excitement was in Chicago this very moment.

  The orange skyline was receding past the low rooftops and the powder blue clapboard of my house appeared round the next corner. I loved where I lived, but Venice after dark wasn’t all that inviting for a lone female. Especially not where I lived.

  I closed the iron-gate after me, wild rose bushes attacking me from each side. It needed tending to, the garden, but my green finger wasn’t so green, and a gardener wasn’t likely to happen any time soon. I could ask Julio, but we were still only dating. Getting him to mow my lawn would send out messages I wasn’t ready to give. I forgot about the over-grown tangles of my wilderness and crashed on my double bed, the cool sheets heaven on my skin. The fan whirred overhead and I dragged my iMac in front of me, curiosity too strong to take a back seat.

  For a few minutes, I was giving in.

  I pulled up my web browser and typed in the NFL Draft. On the site, I clicked the prospects, re-filtered to position and grade order, and clicked the name I was here for. A minute or two to indulge my weakness was nothing. I was dowsing the fire in my memory box so I could go out tonight and have a good time with Julio. There was that word again—good.

  His picture showed up on the screen, a small square in the top left corner. His hair was short when the picture was taken, a fresh cut that I now loved more than when his hair was longer and curling out of control. One guy, a thousand shades of sexy. He was made to every woman’s tastes and standards. You could be blind and not be able to escape his good looks.

  I read his physical stats.

  Height: 6’6”

  Arm length: 34 ¼”

  Weight: 220lbs

  Hands: 11”

  Oh his hands
. I remember how good they felt. I’d die remembering those capable hands. I clenched my thighs, and scrolled the page.

  GRADE: 8

  DRAFT PROJECTION: Round 1

  I knew that. He’d stayed first pick in all the Mock Drafts. His probable success in an NFL Career as the first QB called up on day one of the Draft was all anyone had been talking about since January.

  Since I left for California.

  OVERVIEW:

  Born with a natural arm to deliver the ball, Lawson started as high school quarterback, locking down the attention of college scouts nationwide. 2015, he led the Boston Lions to the National Championships for the second year running. Lawson’s final winning game saw him cap the college records for the 2015 playoff and regular season in both passing TD’s and rushing TD’s, earning him the Heisman Trophy . Yards Passing (3,987), Passing TD’s (36), Rushing TD’s (29) and Yards Rushing (925). Since starting his first weekend game freshman year, Lawson has played in every game, apart from a broken wrist which sidelined the quarterback for just under two months. Completing 73.4 percent of his passes for 3,248 yards in his sophomore year, it is no surprise Lawson led the Lions to their first championship victory in 2014 (his junior year) since 2006. Lawson decided long before becoming an all-American college superstar that the NFL Draft was where he wanted to be, and forfeiting a final year of college was always part of the plan.

  I closed my laptop. Reading about what I’d given away was too hard. It had been four months since I’d last seen Julian in the flesh, and he was no longer Number Seven, Boston Lions quarterback. He was a prospect for an NFL team, so far moved on from the stupid bet he made with one of his stupid friends that crushed me to pieces, but to this day still dampened my trust to a near non-existence. He said he’d fix me, not break me. That was how I felt when I thought about him, what it was like to be around him, in his arms, in his bed. My unreasonable side wanted him to feel as incomplete as I did, not go ahead into his televised career while I stayed back, nursing my pining heart.

  My ten minutes of indulgence was over and I headed for the shower, turning it to cool so I wouldn’t stay in too long. I still had to find something to wear and be ready in time for Julio getting here. I lathered up, the salt from the sea washing down the drain, leaving me fresh-skinned for a couple hours. At my dressing table I thought over ways to wear my hair, then reached for my hairdryer, blow-drying my curls until they were smooth, dark waves curling past my shoulders. I was never one for too much makeup, and living back in Cali, the heat made sure there was never any need for it. I moisturized, swept on a layer of bronzer and mascara and then sealed the finished product with a coat of nude lip-gloss. As soon as I opened my closet doors, a brand new black dress bag hung at the front. How Julio had hidden this here was a bigger mystery than what was under the plastic. I pulled down the zipper and took out the dress. I tried it on and appraised my reflection in the mirror. The red dress was beautiful, a light material caressing my thighs and a dangerously low neckline with thin, delicate straps. This dress was so me, and it was so Julio to know that.

  I coaxed my feet into a pair of skinny heels and filled my purse with everything I’d need: gum, small bottle of perfume, ID—of the fake kind, and lastly, with much trepidation—condoms. I couldn’t put off sleeping with Julio for much longer, and I wanted to be ready in case tonight took a turn into the inevitable. If it got that far, I’d be ready.

  There was still daylight outside, and considering I was already dressed, I decided I’d walk to the shop and meet Julio straight from work. Julio was as intense as he was passionate, a fiery Latino at heart. Time alone with myself, now, was all I’d get tonight.

  I locked up and put my keys in my purse, clutching it to my side. I got to the bottom of the cobbled path and as far as the gate before my heart exploded from my chest, leaving a messy residue in my mouth.

  Every last earlier stat from the NFL website was standing in front of me, dressed in blue jeans and a baseball tee, his tanned arms showing under three-quarter sleeves. I didn’t know how long he had been here, but the sun was already doing him a huge favor. He looked up at me, the deep cobalt in his eyes sharpening my breath to a mini whimper. My words were tangled in the bottom of my stomach, rolling around like the crashing tide.

  Fuck, this was what it felt like.

  He was what life felt like.

  He was what I had tried to get used to living without, and yet somehow still find that everyday thrill that made you want to get out of bed. And he was here. In California. Outside my house. The sidewalk had never looked so appealing.

  His oblique expression cracked, and watching his lips part was like torturous slow motion. “Say something, Angel.”

  His voice. It had been so long since I’d heard it, I forgot how sexy the husk in it was.

  Staring was the only thing I could do not to drop my purse and run into his arms, either to slap him or kiss him so hard our lips bled. “You’re supposed to be in Chicago.”

  “I’m supposed to be here.”

  Then he comes out with answers like that. Answers that work their way into my chest and bury a ten-foot-deep hole straight to my heart.

  “How’d you find me?”

  “I didn’t realize you were in hiding.” When I didn’t join in the fun, he said, “Your dad told me. Good ol’ coach.”

  I couldn’t do this now—tonight. Julio could turn up any minute, and how was I going to explain Julian to him? And if I knew Julian the way I thought I did, he wouldn’t stand there quietly and slip into the distance without causing a scene to get what he came here for.

  And he’d came here for me.

  “I’m meeting someone now, that’s where I’m going. I have a date.”

  “I can see that.” He took a precious step toward me. “I also don’t care.”

  “I care! I fucking care!” I barged past him. Storming away in heels wasn’t panning out as well as it did in my head. I didn’t get far when Julian pulled me back, almost crashing me to his chest. “Just go to Chicago. There’s nothing here for you.”

  A lethal curve to his lips let me know how much he considered that to be bullshit. “Come to Chicago with me.”

  “What?” I snatched my arm away. “No way. Go yourself.”

  “I won’t go without you. For the first time in my life, I’ve found something that’s more important to me than throwing a football. I won’t go to the Draft if you aren’t with me.”

  “So don’t go.” My phone started to buzz in my purse, Julio saving me from having to argue my way out of something that my cravings for Julian were chomping at the bait for. I took the phone from my purse, excusing myself. “I should get this.”

  Julian’s hand flew out to my wrist, stopping me from answering. His squeeze was a notch above comfortable. He was damn near hurting me. “Tell him you can’t make it.”

  His relentless gaze was telling me, not asking me. “Why, Julian? What’s going to happen if I answer and lie to Julio?”

  “I can put right what I should have put right six months ago. I’m not walking away this time, Angel. Not without one hell of a fucking fight. So answer your phone and get rid of him, because I’m not going anywhere.”

  The light on my screen died, seconds before the ringing started up again. Julian quirked an eyebrow, a physical challenge aimed at me. “I mean, he can watch if you want to see him that bad.”

  “Watch?” I tugged my arm from Julian, stumbling toward him when he refused to let go. “There won’t be anything to watch.” I wrenched his fingers from my wrist and answered Julio’s call. “I’m ready, come get me now,” I said to Julio in a rush, before he even got a chance to say hello.

  I put my phone away, my eyes never leaving Julian’s. “Wrong move, Angel.”

  “Not to me,” I said, walking away. If I could get to the end of the street without Julian following me, I could salvage this night and pretend he was never here. What Julio didn’t see wouldn’t need explaining. I looked back, relieved
to see Julian wasn’t following me. “Goodbye,” I said for the final time.

  He didn’t reply.

  <>

  “Angel, you can talk to me you know.”

  “Huh?”

  Julio put back his beer and wiped his mouth on the paper napkin. “You’re here, but only physically. It’s happening more and more lately.”

  The candle flickered in the middle of the table and I concentrated on the whimpering flame rather than having to admit that I was counting down the minutes until this dinner was over and I could go home. Julio dipped his head in front of me, not fooled by my deafening silence. “Is it another guy?”

  I looked up. It must have been in the wrong way because Julio sighed, sitting back in his chair. “I knew it, just didn’t want it to be true.”

  “It’s not really another guy,” I explained. “Not the way you think.”

  “If he breathes the same air as you, that’s bad enough for me.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, weakly. “I thought I was moving on.”

  “But you’re not. It’s fine, I get it.”

  I pushed my chair back and stood up, placing my napkin on the table. Bending over or too much careless movement made me and possibly everyone else aware how short my dress was. I put my hands on Julio’s shoulders and kissed him on the cheek, my lips grazing his ear. “Eres fabuloso, papi.”

  He covered my hand with his, turning his head so our lips were near touching. “No, Mami, ese eres tú. Do you need a ride?”

  “I’m good,” I said. “I always did prefer walking.”

  It was cold outside compared to the heat of the taco bar. But the breeze was welcome, cooling me down inside and out. It took longer than normal to walk home in my unpractical heels, but I made it, flopping onto the couch in the dark and shoving a cushion over my face. I was too jumpy to relax, so I sat up, throwing the cushion to the floor. I dialed my dad’s number, tapping my foot against the carpeted floor. “Dad,” I said when he answered. “Where is Julian staying?”