by Tori Alvarez
I laugh at his honesty.
“Go on and sit at the table. It’s all done.” He is lifting a bowl and a basket.
He places the items on the table and walks back to pick up his water.
“Do we have everything?” he asks.
“I think so. Pasta and bread. What else do we need?”
“Cheese!” he exclaims before opening the fridge and pulling out a small plastic container.
That is not like pizza Parmesan cheese. He sets in down in front of me. It’s shaved chunks of cheese. The real stuff. He’s either really trying hard to impress or this is his life. I haven’t figured out which.
“Help yourself, please,” he prompts.
I pick up the serving spoon and help myself to a plate of his pasta and grab a piece of bread from the basket. It dawns on me—he has a basket…for bread. What kind of guy is this?
I watch him serve himself before I try my first bite. He takes his first bite, so I pick up a piece of the cheese from my bowl and place it in my mouth. It’s good. This is the real stuff.
“I have wine and beer in the fridge if you’d rather. I’m still hydrating from last night,” he begins the conversation.
“Me too,” comes out quickly. Crap. Again, my words escape without thought. I may have to come up with something quick.
“Well, good. I am still feeling some of the effects from last night. I just didn’t want to ruin it if you were in the mood to have a drink.”
“I’ll abstain tonight, too. What did you do?” My curiosity about whom he was with gets the best of me.
“My frat brothers and I went to a hole-in-the-wall bar for cheap booze. Too many shots later, and I’m feeling like this.” His shoulders shrug as he takes another bite.
“This is really good. No need to be worried,” I compliment him, hoping it changes the subject of last night.
“Thank you. Like I said, it’s edible.”
“It’s more than edible. It’s good. Thank you. Especially if you are hungover.” I just brought up last night again. Ugh. “Why would you ask me over if you are hungover?” I’m wondering why he would want to torture himself.
“Because I wanted to see you. I was not going to jeopardize my chance of seeing you tonight.”
This is what gets me. He is always so sweet, and my usual defenses are not accustomed to it. Guys are usually all in for themselves, so it’s easy to keep them at arm’s length. Garrett. Well, Garrett creeps under your skin with his grace and charm. He always seems to put me and my needs first.
“I think that is the sweetest thing someone has ever said or done,” I answer honestly.
Garrett
“If you just give me a chance, darlin’, I’ll continue to show you sweet.” She is more relaxed tonight than ever before. I don’t know if it’s her hangover, the casualness of the evening, my cooking for her, or maybe she’s starting to trust me, but I’m going to milk this for all it’s worth. Even after Kevin’s crazy announcement last night, I still want to be with her. Her strength, beauty, and mystique are driving me crazy.
“Don’t push your luck, mister.” Her lips pull up, reaching her eyes as she twirls a large portion of noodles on her fork and shoves them in her mouth. She chews a bit then adds, “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”
“I’ll take my chances.” I shove a large piece of bread in my mouth, mirroring her. And with my mouth full, I respond, “I’m a big boy.”
She quickly covers her mouth before a laugh escapes. She picks up her napkin with her other hand and brings it up to her mouth.
“I was not expecting that. And the first mental picture that came to mind was your face on Baby Huey.”
“Not who I wanted to remind you of.” I need to redeem myself now.
“What movie are we going to watch?” she asks, sobering me from my embarrassment.
“Whatever. I haven’t picked one out. Thought I would wait and see what you enjoyed.”
“Cool. I haven’t paid attention to what is at Redbox lately.”
Dinner continues with more conversation about movies. She helps me clean up before sitting on the couch for an action movie—her choice, not mine. Most girls—when given the chance—will subject guys to rom-coms, hoping we’ll act like the guys in the movie. She never responds the way I think she will.
We start innocently enough on the couch. Not wanting to push my luck, I stay on my side. But eventually, she moves closer, snuggling into me. I drape my arm around her shoulders, letting my fingers graze her shoulder. Her hand on my thigh is testing my willpower. She begins to lazily drag her hand up and down—nowhere near my boy, but just as enticing. Her clean, out-of-the-shower scent, her body molding into mine, and the heat building between our two bodies has me hoping my cock doesn’t show through these loose shorts.
As the movie drags on, the caresses become a little more urgent. More pressure. Closer to places we are purposefully avoiding. I’ve looked down at her a couple of times. Her eyes are fixed on the TV. But this time…this time, she looks up at me, and her breath hitches, hunger in her eyes. I freeze, not wanting to break the spell. She brings her hand up, caressing my cheek before bringing her lips to mine in a hunger-filled kiss. It is the most passionate kiss I have ever experienced.
Breathing is not an option right now, as I have the one thing I have been waiting for. Getting lost in her is the only thought consuming me. Tasting her lips, our tongues are in a manic dance for more. Her arms creep around my neck, pulling me closer. Then, she pulls away, breathing shallow and fast. I watch as a storm passes through her eyes. She’s deciding whether this will end or go on.
A few seconds pass in silence, just watching each other. As the thought of her getting up and leaving begins to pass through me, she rolls her body over, straddling my lap. I know she has to feel the hardness that has been building. She picks herself up slightly and comes down again, rubbing herself on me as a small moan escapes her lips. If she keeps this up, it will be my undoing.
“Do you want me?” Her voice is husky with need.
“Only if you want me to, darlin’.” I place my hands on her firm ass, pulling her closer to me.
“Then what are you waiting for?” Her lips crash back into mine.
Hands are roaming and groping, lips are tasting, and bodies are pressing so tightly I need to take a step back or I’m going to unload before the actual party.
I place my hands on her shoulders slightly, pushing her back.
“What’s wrong?” Confusion mars her face.
“Absolutely nothing. I just need to get a handle, or you’re going to make me come before I’m ready.”
The sexiest smirk known to man crosses her face before she puts her hand between us and cups my dick.
“Okay, that’s it.” I push forward, standing up, holding her by her ass, and her legs wrap around me instinctually. Her arms come up as she licks and suckles my neck.
I walk us to the bedroom and place her down, standing in front of me.
“Pick up your arms.” I watch as she slowly complies. I grab the hem of her shirt, pulling it up over her head. A lace, see-through bra greets me. I come down, taking one breast in my mouth as I slide her pants down her legs. A small little triangle thong is exposed.
Here she is, in all her beautiful perfection, in front of me for the taking. I guide her back until her legs hit the side of the bed. She sits down and pushes herself back.
“I’m going to kiss every last inch of you before we even get started.” And I mean it. Her flawless, tan skin is begging for attention. I crawl on the bed until I reach her mouth.
Chapter 11
Trust
Toni
As my eyes open to a new day, memories of last night flood my memory. I stay perfectly still, not wanting to wake Garrett yet. My need to process everything first is crucial. So much of last night was out of character for me. When have I “hung out” with any guy? Sleep over? That’s just asking for trouble. Sex. Sex complicates things.
But as these thoughts pass, I can’t help but be content. Can I even say happy? His demands, firm but gentle. His attention to my needs rather than his own. His insistence on keeping me close. His ability to please. All of these things are not something that I have experienced. Or maybe I just haven’t let myself experience it? Is this a usual relationship beginning? If you have never experienced a beginning, how’s one to tell?
My mind is made up. I need to stop this now. This is all a mirage, and the only thing that happens now is getting burned. Better to be the burner than the burnee.
I sit up quickly, keeping the sheet high, covering my breasts to search for my clothes.
“Morning, darlin’,” a voice, thick with sleep, greets me.
“Good morning.” I move to stand, but his arm comes around my waist, quickly pulling me back down.
“Are you trying to leave me already?” He looks directly into my eyes, searching for an answer.
“Uh…” I say, not expecting him to ask directly. I’m not sure what I expected, but not that. “Uh…I just have to get home.” I stumble over an explanation on the urgency of my departure.
“To do?” His gaze does not leave mine.
“Homework,” flies from my lips.
He brings his hand up and rests it on my cheek. “Don’t leave because that’s what you think I want.” He brushes his thumb across my lips. “I want you to stay. We don’t have to do anything but spend the day together.” He brings his lips gently to mine and pulls away. “No more games. I want you in my life.”
I’m surprised by his admission. I just don’t know if I can do this. Everything from my past is telling me this is a bad idea. But every time I’ve been with him, he has broken a little piece of my wall. And last night, it felt as if he demolished it.
I want him so damn much, but I am terrified. All relationships end badly. And how can I even be honest about my past? My life is not worth sharing.
“I’m not sure why this seems so hard for you, but give me a chance.” His plea has my heart thumping loudly.
I can’t think clearly anymore.
“What do you want from me?” It’s a question I have wondered.
“All I want right now is your time”—he props himself on one arm, releasing the one from my waist—“and attention. I want to know about the storm behind your eyes. The hesitation to trust. What drives your determination and willpower. I want to know about it, and I want to walk through it with you. Be your shoulder if you need. Be a listening ear.” He stops abruptly, taking a deep breath, holding it as he lets himself fall back onto the pillow, his gaze on the ceiling.
I stay silent, not knowing what to say, as he lets out his breath in a long sigh. This is movie kind of talk, so I know it isn’t real. This is not what happens in real life. This is all a set-up for the ultimate demise with broken promises and hearts. Something I don’t do.
“And what if I said I can’t?” I challenge him, knowing all males walk away when the going gets hard.
“How can you say you can’t if you haven’t even tried?” he counters.
“I know I can’t.” My resolve is building.
“And how do you know that?” He finally turns over toward me again, his eyes burning for an explanation.
“Because relationships are for suckers. And I…AM…NOT…A…SUCKER!” I emphasize each word to drive my point home.
“And why, pray tell, are relationships for suckers?” His eyebrows raise in question.
“Okay, but first, tell me of a healthy relationship that has lasted.”
“My—”
I interrupt to clarify. “But not only lasted, but they like each other too. Not some ‘we are staying together for the kids but secretly hate each other,’ or ‘we are together but haven’t had sex in a billion years,’ or ‘we are too fuckin’ broke to divorce, so we are still together making each other miserable’ type of relationship.”
“Like I was saying, my parents. They are still together, twenty-seven years later. Still working together, sleeping in the same bed, and if I’m honest, grossing me out a bit with their PDA.”
Not wanting to diss his parents, I have no comeback. After a few moments of silence, he continues, “So are you now going to share your ‘relationships are for suckers’ theory?”
The word theory raises my hackles. And all I have been trying to keep in explodes out.
“It is not a theory; it is a fact. At least, it’s a fact in my life. My mother has gone from guy to guy with them promising the world only to go back to their wives or girlfriends or lives. Or better yet, they keep her like a dirty little secret, never exposing her to their friends or family. My best friend’s boyfriend is a loser that sticks with her so that he can mooch off of her. Fucker does nothing but lie around the damn apartment all day, drinking or hanging with his buds while Amelia is trying to work and just get a fuckin’ Associate’s degree. How about all my friends whose dads split because raising a kid was too hard or not fun? How about all the guys who hit it and quit it?” All the emotions about men that I have bottled up my whole life come tumbling out in one hot breath. All I can see is red, and I need to bolt.
I quickly move to get out of the bed and stand, looking for my clothes. Garrett does the same, quickly pulling on boxers before I can get anything other than my shirt on.
He grabs my shoulders, holding me still. My gaze drops to the floor. My heart is pounding, ready to escape my chest, the anger lingering but not having anyone to direct it toward.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers out. “But please don’t judge me by some assholes who have no respect.”
“I can’t.” I want to, but I can’t. I need to leave, but I can’t.
He lets go of my shoulders, bending down and picking up my thong. He holds it out so I can step into it. He slides it gently up my legs. He then guides me back to sit on the bed. He drops to his knees in front of me, peering up.
“Look, I’ll be patient and show you not all males are assholes. Over time, I’ll prove to you I’m worth the hassle.” His words are soft and slow.
“I can’t,” I repeat.
“You can.”
I’ve never placed myself into a situation where I could feel vulnerable. How could I do it now? I want to. There’s something about him that draws me in.
“Okay…” slips past my lips. This has to be my heart speaking, not my head.
“Okay?” His hesitation if my answer is true is glaring.
I nod slowly. He comes up a bit, wrapping his arms around my waist, pulling me toward him as a long breath leaves his body. My breath is still stuck, unsure if I’m making the right decision. He’s holding me like his life depends on it. My head falls on his shoulder.
After a few short minutes, his arms leave my body, leaving me wishing I could read the future. He stands, extending his hand to me. Not knowing what he has in mind, I place mine in his.
“Let me, at least, make you breakfast.” I’m not sure if his unsure smile is trying to calm me or him. “Grab one of my shirts in that drawer. It will cover more.” He winks as he scans my body. I’m standing, braless, in my short tee with a thong that really covers nothing.
He walks out of his room, leaving me to my thoughts and his personal items. He even trusts me to go through his drawer to pick out a shirt.
I walk to the kitchen barefoot to see him pulling eggs and bacon out of the fridge. It didn’t dawn on me last night that he had a fridge filled to the brim with food. And he lives alone.
Garrett
“Here, let me.” She nudges me away from the counter and directs me to sit down. “You made dinner last night; I’ll make you breakfast.”
“Deal.” I take my seat on a barstool and watch her look through cabinets and drawers to find what she needs.
Watching her in the kitchen, moving gracefully, prompts me to ask, “Who taught you to cook? You make it look so easy.”
She takes a moment before answering. “When I was little, it was a necess
ity, because my mom was more worried about her life than mine. Then, when I moved in with my grandmother, she taught me. She was always in the kitchen if she wasn’t working.” Another pause before she continues. “My grandmother saved me. I don’t know where I would be if she hadn’t agreed to take me in… well, not only me but my two cousins, as well.”
She’s opening up a bit to me, and I don’t want to ask anything that will shut her down. I decide on a safe route.
“Older or younger?”
“Huh?” She raises her gaze from the food to look at me.
“Your cousins, older or younger?”
She smiles. “They’re older. Alex is four years older, and Javie is two. I guess I have to give Alex some credit, too. He is the one who has continued to encourage me to stay in school.”
“You were going to drop out?” flies out before I have time to think.
“Sort of. No need to go into that now since I’m still here, less than a year away.”
She’s pulling back. On to safer subjects.
The rest of the day passes quickly. She goes to her place to pick up her books, and we meet to study at the library before a long dinner at a hole-in-the-wall burger joint she suggests. My attention is always on her, reassuring her I’m not in this for a game. The touches and kisses we share throughout are never forced but genuine. A natural rhythm begins to form.
It’s my afternoon on study duty with the pledges. Instead of reading to set an example, I’m busy texting Toni funny memes. That has quickly become our mode of conversation. Say it through meme. I guess for her it feels safe—not sharing too much. I’ll take it if it keeps her responding and answering my texts. Plus, it’s hilarious.
“I don’t think that’s considered reading.” David sits across from me at the table, pointing at the phone and giving me a shit-eating grin.
