I spoke quietly even though we were alone. I was being vulnerable and saying things that made me feel shy. I stared at his shirt—at the top of his chest near his collar.
"I wanted to be glued to you all along," he said. "I was trying to slow down and be patient."
"Why would you want to do something like that?" I asked, softly, playing with him, flirting.
"Your dad."
"What did he do?"
"It's not bad, he just pulled me aside and reminded me that I needed to be patient. I just wanted to go as slow as you needed."
Sheer mortification washed over me when Trey said those words. I felt a whooshing sensation of dread and embarrassment.
"What? Did he actually tell you that?"
"It's not bad, Tara. Don't be mad at him. It's the truth that I need to take your feelings seriously. And I do. I feel serious about you, and I'm not trying to go too fast or hurt you. All week, I've just been thinking about it and trying to figure out where to go from here."
I let out a frustrated sigh. I was so mad.
"I cannot believe my dad," I said, dazedly.
"Don't be mad at him," Trey said, holding me closer. "He loves you. He's just trying to protect you."
I pulled back and let my eyes meet his—our brown eyes connecting like they had done countless times.
"Thank you for not letting that run you off," I said.
"I won't. Ultimately, I'm my own man. But the things he said, they did make me check myself, you know? I've really been evaluating my long-term thoughts—where I see myself in the future and what I hope to get out of all this with you."
He held onto me gently, his arms resting comfortably on my sides.
"And what is it you see in your future?" I asked.
"You, Tara. You're the thing I want. Not the building or any number of buildings. I don't even care about living in a certain city. I want you in my life, and that's all."
I let my arms rest on him, holding onto him.
"Being with those people tonight, having my Nashville people here, it reminds me of what's back home. And no offense, they're great, they're all great people. But being with them just makes me know how badly I wanted you. I'm trying to be next to you. I feel like everything I could want is here."
I felt weak in the knees. "I'm going to tell my dad that I'm with you and that's final," I said. "If he says anything else to you, please come tell me about it."
"He's fine," Trey said. "He and I will be fine. You don't need to go take up for me with your dad."
"I thought about that," I said. "But I will, if you need me to."
He gave me a squeeze. "I can take care of Billy Castro… easy." He said it just the right way that it was a play on my dad's nickname, and I smiled at his joke. He leaned down and kissed me. His mouth was firm and warm, and I had not been able to kiss him enough during the last few days. I felt deprived of his kiss, and it made me lean into him.
He pulled me close, turning to the side, and kissing me deeply. Oh gosh, his kiss. Ohhhhhhh. He had never, ever kissed me like this. His tongue came into my mouth, and the silky intrusion gave me a completely different feeling than the gentle kisses we shared up until now. I held on and let him kiss me deeply, leaning into him, feeling like I might melt.
Trey held the back of my head, kissing me expertly for several long, hazy minutes. It was the middle of the night, and those moments felt fevered and dreamlike. All we did was stand there in my doorway and kiss. We were on our feet, and yet it was intense, like his kiss caused me to leave my own body.
I was awe-struck when Trey finally pulled back. He broke the kiss, but then he kissed me again, twice and then three times. I smiled when he pulled back for the last time. He had a hold of my face, and I could feel that my smile caused me to get chubby cheeks. He smiled at the sight of that and leaned in to kiss my mouth again.
Our lips were wet from kissing, and it felt like a cool, sweet stamp of heaven when he did it.
"I better go," he whispered reluctantly, staring at me.
"I know. Your friends are waiting for you."
He leaned in and kissed me again. "I'm sorry for waking you up," he said. He was still holding me close, not moving, his mouth was only inches from mine, even when he pulled back.
I smiled at his comment about waking me up. "Are you sorry?" I asked sarcastically.
"No. I'm not. This is, by far, the best part of my day. I'm not sorry at all. But I'm sorry if you're tired at work tomorrow. That, I would be sorry about."
"I'm sure I'll survive," I said. (Kiss.) "It was worth it," I added. (Kiss. This one was longer. This was one where he sucked gently on my lower lip.) I was barely able to breathe, much less form a sentence. "Are you going to be at class at ten?" I asked, finally. (Kiss.)
"Yes," he answered. "I'll see you in a few hours."
***
Of course, my thoughts ran wild and it was difficult to get to sleep, even after my head hit the pillow. It was ridiculously late when I finally fell asleep. I set the alarm for the last possible minute. I got out of bed and went to my father's gym, feeling puffy and unrested. My eyes burned and went to the coaches lounge where I poured a quarter of a cup of coffee, added cream and sugar, and drank it down without taking time to savor it.
I didn't care about being tired. I was in the best mood possible, considering how little sleep I got. I drank down some coffee and chewed a mint on my way out of the lounge.
Trey made it to class.
I saw him from across the gym as I came out of the back. He was in a group, talking to my dad and two other people. They were smiling, and I went toward them.
It ended up being a big morning class. My dad didn't usually teach on Saturday mornings, and it seemed that word had gotten out that he would be here because there were about double the number of people we normally had.
I tried to make my way over to Trey, but Miguel stopped me to ask me a question, and by the time I answered it, my father was starting class.
We did warmups, and all of us were sweating by the time those were finished. My dad did not mess around when he was running a class, and he went straight into drilling after warmups.
"Grab a partner!" Dad called. "One of you get pads, the other put on your gloves."
I instantly went to Miguel. I didn't even hesitate since I knew that working with him had been part of my job description lately. I glanced at Trey who had partnered with Greg, one of our heavyweights.
My dad and Coach Dizzy came up to Miguel and me while we were still finding a spot on the mat. "Miguel, I'm going to get Dizzy to hold pads for you today," Dad said, handing the older coach some equipment.
Dad looked at me. "Come with me," he said, and we started walking. "I want you to come partner-up with this guy over here. Show him around."
By the time Dad finished talking, he and I were on our way to the other side of the mat. Trey could see that we were headed toward him, and he watched us approach. "Greg, come over here and rotate with Tyson and Mark. Or better yet, go with Brandon." Greg nodded and took off. "Trey, I wanted to get you to partner up with my daughter, Tara. She's going to work with you today."
This was the type of introduction my dad made all the time. I worked with new members a lot. I smiled and stood opposite Trey, both of us squaring off in loose but athletic stances.
"I guess you're my partner," I said.
"I guess so," he said.
"Is that okay?" I asked.
A smile was Trey's only response, but we both knew he thought it was okay.
"Our first combination is going to be jab, jab, cross, hook, cross. Nice and easy. Five punches. Watch your foot work. Stay light on your feet. Get your rhythm, stay loose. And keep your hands up, people… ready, and… go.
"Jab, jab, then what was after that?" Trey asked.
"Jab, jab, hook, cross, hook. No. Cross, hook, cross."
Trey threw the first punch.
"Jab with the other hand," I said, smiling.
H
e smiled at himself, and then he did it again.
"That's right," I said.
"Sorry," he said, doing the combination slowly. "You make me nervous."
"Don't be sorry, and don't be nervous. Just get a rhythm. Jab, jab, hook, yes, now cross, good, hook, yes! Great, Trey. You're really good. You have good instincts."
We went through several sets of the combination—all while moving around and trying to stay light on our feet. Trey was not trying to show me his strength. I could tell he was strong, but if he was trying to show me anything, it was his precision.
He was new to boxing and he wasn't very technical compared to the veterans, but he was amazing for someone who had only been to a few classes. He was smooth, and he was confident, and he had great natural athleticism.
We were doing two-minute rounds, and near the end of it, Trey got tired and dropped his hands. I reached out and tapped him on the cheek lightly with the palm of my pad.
He laughed, knowing that I could have punched him right then.
"Keep your hands up," I reminded him.
He finished the round breathing heavy but smiling. My dad went into a speech about keeping our core centered and our feet under us to retain a constant center of balance. He used me and my ballet as an example again, posing in something close to an arabesque. He was a dynamic teacher and he had everyone laughing.
He gave us another combination, and we went to work again. This one was longer, but Trey kept up, taking it slowly and not freaking out and trying to go hard like most new people would.
"What time do you get off work?" he asked between rounds.
"Four," I said. I knew his friends were still in town tonight and that we were all planning on going out to eat.
"Cassie has a video projector," he said. "She was talking about it yesterday. I was thinking we could rent a movie and watch it on the wall of the studio—I think it can go up to like ten feet wide."
"Oh, that would be amazing," I said. "What movie?"
"I don't know. I haven't even brought it up with anyone else. I just remember her saying she had that projector, and I was feeling like watching a movie with my girlfriend, so I was hoping to make that happen."
"Is she me?" I said, feeling giddy.
He didn't get to answer before the bell rang. Dad gave us a long, eight-punch combination to perform. Trey did the first part and then looked at me. "Jab, uppercut, hook, cross," I added when he paused.
He did the four remaining punches.
"Yes, she's you," he said, continuing our conversation. "I want to watch a movie with you after dinner tonight. But also, one more thing." We paused while he performed the combination.
"What?" I asked.
"Meet me in the room later" he said. "For a couple of minutes. I know we're eating dinner together and the movie, but we're not going to get a minute alone. Just meet me in the room for like two minutes." He did the first part of the combination, but he hesitated.
"Jab, uppercut, hook, cross," I said when he paused, and he delivered the rest of the combination. We had to fit in our conversation between all this work and give no clue to my father that we were talking and scheming.
"You name a time and I will be in there," I said. "I usually get home by four, and I just need to take a quick shower. Do we just use the roof since your friends are in the rooms?"
"Yes. I'm going to use the roof access, too," he said "Jab, uppercut, hook, cross." He was the one to say the end of the combination this time, and I smiled that he remembered.
"They want to go back to the beach today, but we should be back by four. Can you meet me upstairs when you get off work? Maybe at four fifteen?"
I smiled and nodded. "I can't wait."
Chapter 18
I thought I would beat Trey to the secret room.
I got off of work a little early, and freshened up. I found my way onto the roof and down to the secret room by a minute or two before four o'clock. I was fifteen minutes early, so I was shocked to find Trey in there.
"What?" I said as I came down the new spiral stairs. "What are you doing here so early?"
"I'm waiting for you," he said.
He was sitting in the chair, sprawled out, confidently messing with a toy. It looked like a black rubber ball, and he might as well have been a rock star, sitting there, tossing it casually.
"I was going to get down here first and wait for you," I said.
"Well, I beat you to it," he said.
He stood up, tossing the ball into the corner of the chair before turning just in time to catch when I walked into his arms.
"What's that ball?" I asked.
"Just a racquetball," he said. "I found it in Lee's van. I've been messing with it all afternoon."
He took me into his arms, burying his face in my neck, kissing me lightly, hugging me and holding onto me gently.
"You smell so good," I said.
"You smell good," he replied.
"Not as good as you." I sniffed his hair.
"I just took a shower when we got home from the beach. There was barely any hot water. They've taken over all of my space."
"Not all of your space," I said, referring to this room and raising my eyebrows a little.
"You're right," he said. "That's why I told you to meet me here. Because in front of them it's hard to find an opportunity to…" he trailed off and leaned in, letting his lips softly touch mine for a heart-stopping second before pulling back.
"I know," I said, holding onto him. "We're going to be eating dinner and watching a movie, and everyone will be right there, so it'll be hard to find time to…"
I kissed him again, and he smiled.
Our contact was torturously gentle, but finally he grabbed a hold of the sides of my sweatshirt, pulling me in. He gave me a little tug as he began to move. "Come sit by me for a minute," he said.
I retrieved the small black ball out of the corner of the chair and then stepped back to let Trey sit down. I slipped off my shoes before sitting on the arm of the chair, letting my legs drape across his lap and tucking my feet next to him. Trey rested his arm on my ankles, and I fiddled with the ball.
"Thank you for meeting me up here," he said in a sweet, patient tone. "I wanted a few minutes with my girl. I imagined those guys would be doing their own thing while they were here, but everyone's been around a lot, wanting to hang out."
"They're nice though," I said.
"Yeah," he agreed. "It's fine. They're pretty easy, but they're around all the time."
"They'll be leaving tomorrow, right?" I asked, since I was uncertain.
"Yes, but then I just have one more night before I have to go back to Nashville again."
I made a disappointed noise. "Let's not talk about it," I said, tucking my head next to him. I was dreading it that much—I didn't want to think about it or mention it. I knew he had to go back, but I was doing my best not to acknowledge it. If I didn't acknowledge it, it didn't exist, right?
"How was work?" Trey asked.
"It was good," I said. "Jesse came by."
"Your friend from high school?"
"Yeah. I told her I was going to be opening the studio, and she said she'd be willing to teach a class or two for me now that she's home from school."
I thought back to my conversation with Jesse earlier that day. I hadn't talked to her in a while, and she didn't know about my relationship with Trey. I told her I was seeing someone, and she asked so many questions that she figured out that it was the same guy she saw in the diner the day I first met him. She joked with me, saying that I was mean for going after 'her man'. I had laughed it off at the time, but the more I thought about her comments, the more annoyed I got. I thought back to my conversation with her, hoping I had done enough to let her know he was actually my man.
"Did you hear me?" Trey asked as I was lost in thought.
"No. What'd you say?"
He laughed. "You're so spaced out."
"I know. I was thinking about talking to Jesse."
"It's cool that she's going to help you out," he said.
"Yeah. Is that what you said?"
"No. I was looking at your legs, and I asked you where you got those calves. It's like little rocks in there. Is that from ballet?"
"And boxing," I said, looking at my own calves. With the way my legs were positioned across him, my muscles were somewhat flexed. I peered down and saw what he was looking at. There was a line on my calf along the ridge of my muscle. He cupped his hand around that area and I flexed even more, causing his face to light up.
He smiled mischievously at me. "You seriously are a little dynamo."
"Ooh, I like that name. Dynamo. That'll be my nickname if I ever take a fight."
"I thought you weren't planning on fighting," he said.
"I'm not," I said, smiling and assuring him. "But if any nickname could tempt me to do it…"
I trailed off, and he laughed.
"How was the beach?" I added.
"It was good. The girls got sunburned—especially Emily. They put on a bunch of suntan oil and laid out in their bikinis all day. The only time they moved was to flip over. When I left them downstairs, they were pretty miserable, rubbing aloe vera on each other."
I just stared at him, nodding wryly. "So, you spent the day with a bunch of oiled-up women in bikinis. That's just great…" I said, sarcastically.
He smiled and gave me a reassuring squeeze. "I hardly saw them. We went surfing. Tyler really wanted to try it, so we rented boards. We were in the water the whole time."
"Surfing? Really? Were you any good?"
"I wasn't good," he said. "I've never even tried it before, so I can't say I was good. I did get up on the board several times, though. I think I could get the hang of it, eventually. We met some guys at the surf shop who went out with us. The waves weren't big, but it was fun. Tyler and Lee are already talking about coming back so they can do it again. They'll get a hotel, but they love Galveston. They already have two restaurants they want to eat at all the time, and now surfing."
"I could see you being a surfer," I said. "You look like a surfer."
"You think so?" he asked.
Secret Rooms and Stolen Kisses: A Romance (Bank Street Stories Book 4) Page 12
