SAVAGE: The Kingwood Duet

by Scott, S. L.

  “Guess I should go,” he says, nodding toward his dark-haired friend. “You want a ride home?”

  I may only be seventeen but cable TV has taught me a few things about accepting rides from strangers, even good-looking ones. “I’m fine walking.”

  “You sure are.” He glances up to the sky. “Dark clouds are rolling back in.”

  “They won’t do me any harm, but I’m not so sure about you.”

  The right side of his mouth rises, almost meeting the dimple in his cheek. “Smart girl. So you turn eighteen next week?”

  “Yeah. Saturday.”

  Swinging his leg over the bike, he settles on the leather and grips the handles. “What about a boyfriend?”

  “I’ve got no priors,” I reply, making a really bad joke, so dumb that my face feels hot from embarrassment.

  He laughs, but I’m sure it’s out of politeness, although he doesn’t seem the type to humor anyone. “Let’s hope not.” Shifting, he looks ready to go. “What’s a girl like you talking about priors anyway?”

  With mustered courage, I reply like I’ve found some confidence lying on the ground. “I’m not so little, and you’re not so bad.”

  “What do you know about being bad?”

  “I’ve seen some.”

  His smile disappears, replaced by the stormy clouds he spoke of earlier. Anger. Curiosity. Respect. A fury of emotion brews inside his captivating eyes. “I said I wouldn’t hurt you.”

  My hands tighten around the strap of my backpack. “I’m not sure I believe you.”

  “I don’t need you to believe me. I don’t need anything at all.” Kicking his stand up, he jumps, his bike roaring to life. I miss the silence. I miss the clarity of his dulcet tone, but I hear him over the loud rumble, “You should get home, little girl.”

  My eyes trail across his lips and then over his shoulder. I pass him without further conversation, but I don’t get far.

  “Sara Jane?”

  I do what I know I shouldn’t. I stop walking and turn back. “Yes, Alexander?”

  A grin appears in response to hearing his name, or maybe something else I’m too inexperienced to know by the deviousness that’s revealed. “Don’t talk to strangers.”

  I laugh and it feels good, like too much pent-up energy finally being released, the balloon of my heart being popped. “Then I wouldn’t have met you.” When I turn away this time, I’m left with the image of his smile and that dark hunger in his eyes. I don’t look back, loving this memory too much to ruin it.

  My steps are slow enough to hear his friend ask him, “Why are you messing around with some girl?”

  The question doesn’t bother me because Alexander’s answer comes quick.

  . . . I can still hear him as if he said the words to me himself, as if that afternoon was just today.

  “She’s not some girl. She’s my girl.”

  5

  Sara Jane

  The library is bustling with people tonight. Our midterm projects are due in two weeks, so everyone’s scrambling to finish them before final exams. I think I’ve reread the same page in this reference book five times and still not absorbed a word. Alexander seems to own my thoughts even when he’s not around.

  As if summoned from the depths of my mind, I hear, “King is here.” His preferred name these days drifts across the large table, bringing me back to the present. I look up at Shelly when I hear his name. She signals to the side before returning her eyes to the book in front of her. When I see him, I smile. It’s an automatic response to the man I’ve loved for the last three years, maybe my whole life. I excuse myself from the table. The weight of my project partners’ stares traverse along with me as I head to meet him.

  It’s not unusual to see other college girls wanting him. Propositioning him. Even when I doubt why he wants me, he greets me with a grin that can get me to do anything. “Hey, Firefly.” His deep voice hums with sexual implications for later.

  A profound satisfaction is awakened, filling my veins. Our attraction to each other never falters. “Hi—”

  My greeting is inhaled by a kiss. With his arms still around my waist, holding me tight, he leans back and asks, “Still mad?” Yes. No.

  Two answers. Each with a different outcome.

  If I say yes, we’ll drag this morning’s incident into a bigger deal than it is. If I say no, he wins. Although it’s not about winning or losing, but understanding what I’m feeling, I don’t like to fight with him, so I stay neutral. “Sort of.”

  He always did like a challenge. “Come with me.” Taking my hand, he leads me to the human anatomy aisle and down to where it dead-ends. The aisle is empty, and I’m starting to get the feeling that I hope it remains that way. My back is pressed against the wall and he leans in, his hand above my head. Looking down on me, the creases around his eyes soften. A hand goes to my cheek, his palm warm. “Do you trust me?”

  “You know I do.”

  “I want to hear you say it, Sara Jane.”

  The lightness of his mood moments earlier is gone. Time spent with his father tends to do that to him. I tend to do that to him, a deep-seated fear of losing me makes him edgy. It does the same to me, but I’m better at hiding it. “What’s wrong?”

  His body is tense, his answer defensive, “Nothing’s wrong.”

  “Then why are you asking me if I trust you?”

  “I just want to hear you say it. Indulge me.”

  I give him what he wants like I always do. “I trust you, Alexander.”

  His smile reappears and he kisses me in reward. “I trust you, too.”

  “I hope so,” I tease.

  He doesn’t laugh. “I trust you with my life.”

  I shift under the weight of his gaze. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. I just want you to know that I’ve shared more of me with you than anyone else.”

  This time, I reach up, and touch his cheek. “I know, and that means a lot to me.”

  A whisper works its way through the books. “Sara Jane, the group is getting antsy waiting on you.” Shelly.

  “I’ll be right there.” My eyes never leave Alexander’s—partly due to how mesmerizing his always are. His need for me right now is the other reason. He’s right. I know him better than myself these days. “What happened today?”

  “Nothing. They’re waiting on you.”

  “Since when did you care if we keep anyone waiting?”

  “I don’t, but I know you do. Go. We’ll talk later.”

  “You sure?”

  “I’m sure.” The charming smile that wins everyone over comes out to play. “You’ll always be my girl.”

  Lifting up on my toes, I kiss him, but before I drop back down, I say, “I’ll always be your girl.” I slip out from under his arm and head backward, down the aisle. When he turns to watch me, I raise an eyebrow, and point at him. “And you’ll always be my guy.” I blow him a kiss, turn, and hurry around the bookcases back to the group.

  When I sit down, I apologize and we start discussing our assignment. Every few moments, I glance toward where I left Alexander, waiting for him to walk by. I miss the possible wave or smile, though. It’s unsettling how easily he disappears, at times.

  Maya leans over, and whispers, “That guy is really cute.”

  My eyes meet Shelly’s, but she looks down quickly. I smile, but my shoulders move back defensively. I know how girls work. “Yeah, he is.”

  My clipped tone doesn’t deter her, and since our other project partners—Cal and Ryan—aren’t paying attention, she continues. “How long have you been dating?”

  While looking back at me, Shelly rests her chin on her palm, leans forward on her elbow, and cuts in, “King was her first boyfriend. Her first kiss. Her first everything.” Her tone is dreamy, wistful. She’s always been supportive of my relationship with Alexander, even when she probably shouldn’t have been . . .

  “Hole. E. Crap. Who. Is. That?” Shelly surprises me when she sounds out the wo
rds so dramatically.

  “What?”

  “That.”

  Looking across the school parking lot, Alexander leans against his bike. Waiting. I dreamed about him last night, and every night since I met him last week. “I know him,” I reply, and I have questions. I start in his direction, but my best friend Shelly tugs me back by the shirtsleeve. “What do you mean, you know him?” Her wide eyes dart between Alexander and me. “How do you know him?”

  “If you promise not to say anything, I’ll tell you later.”

  “I need to know now, SJ.”

  “Later. Okay?”

  “Fine.” She zips her lips and tosses the imaginary key over her shoulder. Alexander’s friend is with him again, looking as annoyed as ever. Maybe Shelly will interest him long enough to give Alexander and me enough time to talk. I stop, keeping some distance between us. Our eyes steady on each other. My heartbeats sound in my ears as I center my thoughts on being strong in front of him, even if it’s just a front.

  “Hi, again.” His gaze slides over to Shelly. “Who’s this, Sara Jane?”

  “This is my friend Shelly.” The girl is so boy crazy she’s almost drooling. Me, on the other hand, I gather enough bravery to keep my voice steady. His being is bigger than the whole of us. Turning to Shelly, I say, “And this is Alexander.”

  “Hi.” She giggles while speaking.

  Alexander’s eyes are locked on mine, never deviating. “Can I speak to you in private?”

  My breath wobbles like my knees when I’m around him. With Shelly here, I try my best to play it cool. “Sure.” I walk toward the bushes that line the parking lot, putting space between our curious friends and us. Alexander follows behind. When I turn back, he’s close. Lifting up just a bit on my tiptoes to get a good look at his face at this proximity, I let my eyes travel his expression and linger on his features. His skin is smooth, clean-shaven, and tempting me to touch him. His eyes are clearer than the other day. Taking him in this close, his shoulders are broader than I realized, his biceps straining the leather to fit. He licks his lips, pulling my attention to his mouth, and he asks, “What are you doing, Sara Jane?”

  “Looking at you. I want something to remember you by.”

  A crooked smile lifts higher on one side, but is quickly joined by the other. “It’s only been four days. Am I a thing of the past? You’ve already moved on?”

  My heart may be thundering in my chest, but I find comfort just being here with him. “I don’t know when I’ll see you next and the memories from the other day are starting to fade.”

  His grin falls as he looks me over. One step closer and I can smell the cinnamon gum he’s chewing. “I’ve been thinking about you.”

  “What have you been thinking?” The butterflies in my stomach have turned into raging hormones.

  Reaching out, he dares to touch the ends of my hair, the strands manipulated between his fingers. “You’re brave for only being what, five three?”

  “Five four. Anyway, what does bravery have to do with my height?” I brush my hair behind my shoulder and watch his hand fall back to his side.

  He chuckles. “I think you’ve proven it makes absolutely no difference when it comes to courage.”

  “Speaking of courage, why are you here?”

  “Does it upset you?”

  “No, just curious.”

  “Like I said, I’ve been thinking about you.”

  “How’d you know where to find—?” I don’t finish. I just shake my head. “My uniform.”

  “What are you doing for your birthday?” He’s direct.

  “I’m not sure.” Glancing to Shelly, I say, “I think she’s concocting a big plan.”

  Looking at her, his brow furrows. When his gaze returns, he replies, “I want to see you again.”

  “Maybe next time we can attempt to get to know each other.”

  “Yeah, maybe.” The tips of his fingers brush under my jaw. “You’re very pretty.” The words don’t come out light like the rest of our conversation. His eyes have darkened, his pupils widening as he stares at me.

  “How old are you?”

  The warmth of his hand falls away. His laughter filters around me and then swallows me whole. “Are you really worried about my age?”

  “I am. You could be seventeen or you could be twenty-five.”

  “And if I were twenty-five?”

  “I’d be sad.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I couldn’t see you anymore.”

  “I’m nineteen.”

  My smile is quick. If I don’t leave now, I might stick around long enough for him to touch me again. I already miss the goosebumps that cover my skin. The bell rings and I look back at the school that will save my heart the trouble. “Lunch is over. I need to go.”

  When I turn to leave, he catches my wrist, his hand encircling it. “I’ll see you Saturday.”

  In that final four-word exchange, I’m not sure if I should be happy or scared, my feelings straddling the emotions. I’m tempted to ask how, but don’t. I already know if he wants to find me, he will.

  . . . “He’s also my last,” I add, flipping the page of the reference book.

  Maya asks, “It’s that serious, huh?”

  When I look up at her, I see through her, her eyes giving her away too easily. Just like all the others, she’s attracted to him. I sigh, disappointed she was so easy to see through, but it doesn’t matter. We’ll never love anyone as much as we love each other. Alexander is it for me. “Very.”

  6

  Sara Jane

  Two hours later, I’m walking out of the library. The fresh fall air hits my face as the sun starts to duck behind the psychology building. I don’t get far before I see him. Alexander pushes off a wall and walks to me. My backpack is swung over his shoulder and his arm swung over mine. A kiss is placed on my cheek and sweet whispers in my ear. “I missed you.”

  “I missed you too.”

  “You did?” he asks, straightening to his full height.

  “I did.” Patting his chest, I add, “Don’t act so surprised. Just because you owe me a good time doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”

  He stops, his arm slipping from my shoulder while I keep walking. When I stop and look back, my heart dances wildly in my chest. Just like the first time I ever saw him, he takes my breath away. Alexander’s eyes are locked on me, seriousness overtaking his features and darkening his expression. “I would do anything for you. Anything to take care of you. Anything to protect you.”

  Like how easily his arm slipped around me, his mind slips into the darkness he can’t seem to shake years after the death of his mother. I’ve been told he used to be the center of everyone’s attention—friends, mothers, his school—happy, always the charmer. Some things never change, but others, like the burden of the rain clouds that hover over him, I wish would. “I know you would,” I reply with certainty. “You’ve never let me down.”

  Coming closer, he stops in front of me, taking my hands in his. “I mean it. I’m not just saying it. Nothing matters to me more than you. We’ll always be together.”

  When he says such things I sometimes wonder if he’s saying it for my benefit or his. For such a brave man, seemingly unafraid of anything, he’s afraid to lose me. “Always.” I reach up and touch his cheek. “You’re not going to lose me.” A large hand warms my waist and pulls me closer. I find comfort in his physical strength and his beautiful eyes; eyes that hold a million secrets and buried pain. As much as I wish I could ease that pain or erase it altogether, they represent the Alexander I know. I do know something that will make him laugh, even if I don’t. “Maya said you were cute.”

  A smirk pops into place. “Only cute?” he asks. I push him in the chest and turn to walk away, but I’m quickly swung around and right into his arms, our bodies flush. “Hey.”

  I dare to look into his eyes, knowing he’ll own me the second I do. “What?” My arms go around him, my cheek to his chest. I love list
ening to his heart, each beat the tick of my life’s clock. I am only because of this man.

  And he knows it . . .

  “You don’t like me looking at you, do you?” I hate that he can hear my nerves even through a hard swallow. I cross my arms over my chest and tuck my shaking hands. When I don’t say anything, he touches my cheek, the back of his fingers warm against my cold skin. He lifts my chin and turns me so I look in his direction. He doesn’t speak until my eyes finally meet his. “Don’t be shy. Be brave. Be strong. Show the world who’s in control. Show them they won’t beat you. Don’t let the world win.”

  His confidence in me is tempting to believe. “How?”

  “Hold your chin up even when you’re scared, or shy, or embarrassed.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re meant to be queen.”

  Then it clicks—King.

  I hold my chin up on my own accord when his hand goes down to my lap. I uncross my arms and sit straight. With the slightest nod of his approval, I find my own courage in the moment. “Because every king needs a queen.” Lifting up with my hands against the park bench on my eighteenth birthday, I kiss him.

  I. Kiss. Alexander.

  I. Kiss. My king.

  . . . What he doesn’t know is that he is who he is today because of me. His edges were dull, numbed by the death of his mother when I met him. I gave him someone to believe in again. Someone to love.

  Like a knife, his senses, his intelligence in life and business, his softer side sharpened over the years. Before me is a man, a leader, a legend in the making. I fell for his mysteries, his smile, and his piercing blue eyes. He’s the catalyst to something greater for both of us. It wasn’t planned. I was too innocent to ever devise such schemes that he plots. I never knew life could teeter between good and evil so easily until I met Alexander Kingwood IV.

  Shelly saw him for who he is now, even then. She knew he was a force to be reckoned with. And I thought he was captivating . . .