The Chosen One

by T. B. Markinson

  “Oh my God! Oh my God!” I waved my arms around like a baby bird trying to get liftoff. “What have I done? She was a virgin… and I just left.”

  “You must really like her. Usually, you don’t overreact,” Fiona said with a grin.

  A snapping sound behind me made me jump, and I wheeled about to find Pat holding a banana that was more green than yellow. He hated bananas that had turned completely yellow.

  “I never thought you’d be a love ’em and leave ’em type of gal.” He yanked the peel back and bit into the firm flesh. “I suggest you watch more rom-coms and not so many episodes of Scandal, House of Cards, and Veep. You’d learn a lot about wooing a lady. Rule one: never deflower someone you care about and then bolt at first light.” He walked over to Fiona, gave her a peck on the cheek, and said, “Gotta go. Shift at the hospital.”

  “What do you think?” I asked Fiona.

  “He may be on to something. I know gushy films aren’t our thing, but it might help. Although Scandal revolves around the Olivia and Fitz relationship, I’m not sure it’s helping your romantic side flourish, considering.” She had one arm over her head, leaning to the side to stretch her back.

  I groaned. “Not that. What should I do now?”

  “I suggest you go home, put on one of your cutest outfits, and get to class to assess the damage. Bring her a coffee or something. No wait, you make shitty coffee. Go to her shop and pick up coffee there. Have you baked any banana bread lately? You make killer banana bread.” She looked around the kitchen in search of a loaf.

  “You expect me to win her over with banana bread?” I was beyond exasperated. An hour ago I’d been over the moon. Now I visualized sitting on a meteor plummeting back to Earth.

  “It couldn’t hurt.” Fee shrugged.

  “Do I have time?” It was 6:30 a.m. I groaned again. “Shit, I don’t.” I grabbed my car keys off the kitchen counter. “Bye!”

  ***

  I hurdled over a random cardboard box that had been carelessly left in the corridor as I ran to the lecture room, Maya’s coffee in one hand and my cell phone in the other. I was hoping she’d call or text, even though I suspected she didn’t have a phone. Miraculously, I didn’t spill a drop. But I had bigger worries.

  Who in today’s world didn’t have a cell phone? People who didn’t want to be found. I pushed that thought out of my head and prayed for a miracle.

  Sliding into my usual seat, I noticed I was one of the first to arrive. The wall clock read 7:40 a.m. Twenty minutes should give me enough time to calm my heart, which at the moment was revving like a race car at the start of the Indy 500.

  Three minutes ticked by‌—‌I’d been incessantly checking my cell phone and the wall clock for confirmation. My phone buzzed, causing me to nearly jump out of my seat and upset Maya’s coffee, but it was only a text from Fiona. It contained a question mark, nothing else. I ignored her.

  “Hello, stranger.” Maya’s silky voice reached me before I had a chance to whip my head around and gauge her mood: sexual afterglow or scorned woman?

  I bolted out of my seat, her cup of coffee in my hand. “I got you this.” My voice was too loud and shaky.

  Right at that moment, two guys bounded in, one pretending to fade back and shoot an imaginary basketball. “Yes, two points!” he shouted, accidentally bumping into Maya, who, in turn, smashed her hip into me. The plastic lid on the to-go cup shot off, and before I could do anything, I was dripping with hot liquid. Again!

  “Oh, no.” The guy looked sincere. “I’m so sorry.” He reached into his backpack and retrieved some loose paper in an attempt to clean me up. Focusing on my Diane von Furstenberg spotted silk blouse, which was now practically see-through, he rubbed notebook paper over my drenched breasts.

  “Got it!” Susie Q stood with her phone in hand. “A little early for a wet T-shirt contest, doncha think?” Her malicious wink made me groan. How was it she always popped up at the most inopportune times?

  “It’s okay. I’m fine.” I stepped back, and the guy’s friend burst into laughter at my reaction to his buddy pawing my breasts.

  The boy turned cherry red. “Uh, I didn’t mean… I’m so sorry.” He rushed to his seat, mortified.

  Dr. Gingas arrived, appraised my drowned rat appearance, shook her head, and launched straight into her lecture.

  Maya scrambled to get her notebook out, and I sat down in a huff, pulling the Boston Globe out of my bag and placing it over the coffee spill, my foot firmly on top to soak up the dregs and hopefully dilute the fumes. I slipped on a thin sweater to hide my nipples.

  Maya eyed me sidelong and gave me an encouraging smile, which settled me some. Our knees bumped, and neither one of us pulled away.

  Halfway through the lecture, I started to shiver. My shirt still wasn’t dry, and the thin sweater offered little warmth.

  Maya reached into her backpack and pulled out a gray sweatshirt. “Here,” she whispered.

  Surely that was a sign she wasn’t upset about this morning.

  If I wasn’t already the class clown and if Genghis didn’t scare the bejeezus out of me, I would have shot out of my seat and bellowed, “She likes me. She really likes me!” Instead, I communicated my thanks by squeezing her arm. Maya dipped her head.

  Eventually the continual scratch of her pen calmed me, and I was able to concentrate on the lecture.

  When it was over, Maya stopped writing as soon as Dr. Gingas marched out of the room. “Cup of coffee?”

  I rolled my eyes. “I don’t know if I’ll ever drink another cup of coffee again. How humiliating. And here I was trying to…”

  She raised a finger. Susie Q approached, snapping more photos.

  “Let’s go outside,” I said.

  With a knowing smile, Maya led me out of the building. I put my arms out and turned my face to the sun. “Oh, that’s better.”

  Maya had her arms crossed, but the cocky look in her eyes gave her away. “So what were you trying to do?”

  I sighed. “What? Oh, with the coffee? I felt like an ass, just leaving this morning, and I wanted to tell you I was sorry.”

  Maya scratched the side of her head with her pen. “But I got your note.”

  I wanted to throttle both Fiona and Pat. All the worry for naught, and now I’d be headlining another Susie Q’s Tattler. What headline would she feature? I was sure wet T-shirt contest would be part of it. Bottlenose loved to shoot from the hip.

  “I really enjoyed last night as well,” Maya said, referring to a comment I’d made in the note. “Now, let’s get some coffee. I need some. I slept through my alarm this morning, for some weird reason, and I nearly missed class.”

  “Oh, really. Any reason in particular why you were dead to the world?” I nudged her arm with an elbow.

  “Nope.” She spun around on her heel, like a soldier. I tugged her hand, and together we walked to the student union. Glancing at me coyly out of the corner of her eye, she added, “Maybe there was a reason.”

  “Hopefully a good reason.”

  “A fantastic reason.”

  I looped my arm through hers. “Are you free tonight?” I asked, bursting to make more memories.

  “Nope.” Her tone suggested I couldn’t talk her out of the commitment.

  “Doing what?” I tried to sound casual, even though my confidence was crashing down to somewhere near the equator.

  “Work and then studying.”

  “Oh.” I hated the obvious disappointment in my response.

  “What time should we meet?”

  I stopped mid-stride. “What?”

  Did she mean she wanted me to pop over for a booty call? A roll in the hay? Oddly, I wasn’t insulted. Fee would be so proud.

  Maya waved off my indignation. “We made plans to work on our project tonight, remember?” She rested her hand on my shoulder. “I finish work at eight.”

  “Oh, that!” I almost face-palmed but was able to curb the impulse. Knowing me, I’d give myself a black eye
. “I’d forgotten. My place or yours?” I arched one eyebrow, hoping I looked devious and sensual but fearing it made me look comical.

  “Yours.” She pulled me behind a strategically placed column, and before I knew it, she was kissing me‌—‌deeply. Desire rushed through me, my pussy practically flooding my pants.

  Maya stepped back, grinning. “I’ve been wanting to do that all morning.”

  ***

  “How did you spill coffee again?” Pat was trying to sound supportive, but his smirk wasn’t helping his cause. He reached into the fridge and pulled out a bag of tomatoes.

  “Oh, please. If Ainsley becomes president, she’ll be the first to spill coffee on the red launch button and start World War III.” Fiona squashed a clove of garlic with the flat side of a knife. She was concocting her famous “from scratch” spaghetti sauce.

  She reached for another clove, but I stopped her. “Fiona! Not too much, okay?”

  She eyeballed me over her shoulder. “Expecting some action tonight. I thought the plan was to work on your group project.”

  “Group project. Is that code for orgy?” Pat elbowed me in the side.

  I rolled my eyes. “We can’t study all night.” I shrugged.

  “Garlic is good for you,” Pat teased.

  “Thanks, Dr. Pat! But it’s not good for my breath, and I really want to kiss her again. When she kissed me this morning…” Words failed me. I melted against the countertop, both hands on my heart. How could I describe what I was feeling? Love? Passion? Desire? I didn’t know how to define the emotion, but whatever it was, I liked it. I liked it a lot.

  Pat put one arm around my shoulder. “Why, Fiona, I do believe our little Ainsley is madly in love.” He squeezed my arm, and I rested my head against his barrel chest, letting him kiss the curly top of my head. Pat was like the brother I’d always wanted. Ham loved me, but he was so much older and rarely around.

  “This sauce isn’t going to make itself.” Fiona pointed to us with her knife. “Chop, chop.”

  We both saluted.

  This tradition of us cooking one meal a week together had started when Fiona first moved into the apartment three years ago. Pat weaseled his way in not too long after. Actually, that wasn’t fair to Pat. We both enjoyed his company.

  “So, when are you going to introduce Maya to the family?” Pat stirred the simmering sauce.

  “Haven’t thought that far ahead.” I avoided Fiona’s eyes.

  “Fee’s been bringing me home for years now.”

  “Rory brought you home first.”

  “Not the point. Your grandmother knows we’re a couple,” Pat explained.

  “Shit!” Fiona slipped with her knife.

  Dr. Pat rinsed her finger under the water. “Was it the word couple?” he teased.

  Fiona laughed, fluttering bashful lashes. “Maybe.”

  He left the kitchen and returned with a Band-Aid. “Just a nick, but we can’t let you bleed into the sauce.” He kissed the tips of her fingers, and Fee nuzzled against his chest.

  My cell vibrated. Something told me I wouldn’t like the message, but I had to know. Wit and valor are qualities that are more easily ascertained than virtue, or the love of wisdom. Seriously, who thought these quotes instructive?

  I stifled a groan and shot an email to Ham, hating that I had to. Who would hack into my phone to retrieve the text: Tess or Rita? The mere thought raised my hackles, but the fear of handling it on my own outweighed the invisible invasion. More than likely, they were already tracking all incoming texts.

  I looked at Fee and Pat, who were too wrapped up in each other to notice my anxiety. Watching them, I realized I wanted what they had: open communication about their issues. I wasn’t certain their jokes and talks actually helped, but at least they had each other. However, “secrecy” was quickly shooting up my favorite word list, and it didn’t take Sigmund Freud to guess Maya cherished it as well.

  ***

  “Okay.” I tapped a pencil against my head. “I think we have our thesis.”

  Maya sat cross-legged on my bed, a notebook open in her lap. “Do you ever feel like Alcott?”

  “I hadn’t considered it. Why?”

  “I can relate to her some. She worked so hard to pay off her family’s debts. The mistakes of those closest to her brought much misery and suffering. Her sense of responsibility was a huge driving force in her success.”

  “Do you mean‌—‌?”

  “No, not my mom. She’s the only one who’s been there for me.”

  “What about your aunt?”

  “Who?”

  “The one who died?” I tried to hide my surprise that she’d forgotten.

  “Oh. She died soon after we arrived. I barely knew her.” Maya traced one of her fingers with a pen.

  At Fiona’s she’d given me a different impression, or had I misread the cause of her unease?

  “Your father?” I took a stab in the dark.

  She let out a frustrated sigh. “I barely know anything about him. Mom says I have his eyes.”

  “Your eyes were one of the first things I noticed about you.”

  “Really?” Maya watched me with those magnificent gray irises that spoke directly to my heart.

  She started to speak, but faltered.

  “What?” I squirmed on the bed next to her.

  “It’s just… oh I don’t know… My parents didn’t make the best choices, and I feel like I’m paying for it.”

  “Do you ever think of contacting your father?”

  “No.” Her squared shoulders were resolute.

  “Are you sure? I know if I had…”

  She jumped off my bed and perched on the windowsill, her arms crossed.

  “Your family situation is way different. I’m not even sure who my father is or if he wanted me. Mom has only mentioned his name once.”

  “Really? I’m sorry, Maya. I didn’t mean‌—‌”

  “I know.” She cut me off again. “It’s just hard to talk about.” Her shoulders relaxed a little. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap.”

  “It’s okay. I’m a firm believer in open communication.”

  Why had I said that?

  “I think we should go back to Concord,” she blurted, a blatant attempt to change the subject.

  “Uh, okay. Why?” Concord no longer conjured warm fuzzy feelings for me.

  “We didn’t take any pictures, and I think it would be great to put together a montage for the presentation.” She looked away. “And…”

  “And?” I motioned for her to continue.

  “And I want to erase what happened there last time.”

  “You mean when you freaked out?” I smirked. This thing between us was still so new. I wanted to be myself, but I didn’t want to overdo it. Diplomacy with a dash of humor.

  “Yeah, that.” She raked a hand through her hair.

  “I’m free Saturday.”

  She looked unsure.

  “I can try to make Sunday work,” I added.

  “It’s not that. Saturday’s fine.” Her crinkled brow implied the opposite.

  “What’s wrong?” I patted the bed.

  She settled next to me but remained frustratingly mute.

  “Are you okay?” I rested a hand on her thigh.

  “I’m not used to… this.”

  “To what?” My heart was spinning in my chest, like an out-of-control Grover had crawled inside and was madly chasing an errant tennis ball.

  “Letting people in.”

  “I know how you feel,” I whispered, knowing I sounded scared. “There’s a reason Carmichaels spend so much time with family. We get burned a lot.”

  Her frame sagged with a burden that would have crushed Atlas, and her eyes brimmed with tears. “I just don’t want to get hurt,” she said, and I wondered whether she wanted to add the word “again.” Was that what had broken her, a failed relationship? Or her father’s abandonment? Or was it deeper than that?

  I feared kn
owing the whole truth, feared it would taint our relationship, but I still wanted to know everything about Maya the Gray. And I would, eventually. She was too fragile to be pushed all at once.

  “I don’t want to hurt you, Maya. I want to…” I lifted her chin and gazed into her eyes. Then I kissed her softly. A tear plopped from her eye, rolling onto our lips and making the kiss taste of salt. She pulled away and wiped her eyes with a sleeve.

  “Please, stay the night. We don’t have to make love, but I want to be close to you, hold you, let you know I’m here for you, no matter what.”

  Maya stood. She took two steps away before turning. “You promise not to abandon me if I let you in? No matter what?”

  Her words knocked the breath out of my lungs, but I managed, “I promise.”

  What in the hell had she been through?

  I rose from the bed and wrapped her in my arms. “Let me in. Give me a chance.”

  The tension in her body ebbed away. “I want to, but I’m scared.”

  “Tell me why.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t. Not yet. I need time.”

  “I’ve waited eighteen years to meet someone outside of the family I could trust. I’ll give you all the time you need.” I buried my head in her neck. “I love the way you smell. It makes me feel like I’m home, safe and sound.”

  Maya lifted my chin with a finger and planted a lingering kiss on my forehead. Grasping her jaw, I pulled her lips to mine. The intensity of her desire kicked mine into hyperdrive, and I pushed her onto my bed, Maya pulling me on top.

  I yanked at the buttons on her chambray shirt, nearly tearing them off as Maya removed my sweater and shirt in one swift movement. My bra followed, and then my jeans. Maya rolled me onto my back, slipping her hand beneath my panties and expertly separating my lips.

  “I love how wet you get.” She smiled. “How wet you make me.”

  I lifted my butt to remove my panties. “I don’t want your hand to cramp.”

  “Not that I would notice.” She dove in with two fingers. “This is all I care about. You. Me. Together. Nothing else matters.” Her simmering gray eyes pleaded for my agreement.