by Clara Stone
“What exactly is second base on a boy? It can’t be your boy parts, right? Or is it copping a feel of your man boobs?”
Nope, not at all what I was expecting. And I have no idea what to do with that.
“God, I love that sound,” I say, ignoring her question. “But sometimes, I wish . . .”
Her breathing hitches. “You wish . . . ?”
I kiss her, successfully answering her question. When I pull back, I push a loose strand of hair behind her ear with my forefinger. Then I draw that finger down her jaw, all the way to her chin and hold it. I bring my mouth toward hers and slowly whisper a confession of my own, “I’ve never had sex with anyone, Blake.”
Her eyes widen. “You mean—”
I nod. “Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had lots of fun plenty of times. I just never . . .” I look at her lips, then back to her eyes. “I just never wanted to, never felt the connection with anyone. Not until . . .”
“Until . . .?” she asks immediately, as if she needs my response like she needs her next breath.
But then the doorbell rings, breaking our moment. My eyes go toward the door, and this time, she holds my chin, directing my gaze back to her. “Until when, Hudson?”
She studies me, her expressive brown eyes looking at me questioningly, demanding I show her the answer she seeks. I get lost in those depths until the damn doorbell rings again. I want to answer her, but I like her flustered like this. Her wanting to know so badly can only mean one thing.
I smile, one side of my mouth quirking up. “We should get that before Hope starts yelling and your neighbors know exactly what we’re doing.”
She groans, her head falling into my shoulder. Taking a deep breath, she pushes back, getting off me to go answer the door.
“Well, so nice of you to finally open up,” Hope says.
Blake steps aside to let her in.
“Hey, Hope,” I greet her casually, standing from my place on the couch. I adjust my pants and continue to count backward in Latin. I walk to Blake and lean down, capturing her lips in a slow, torturous massage.
When I pull back, I look into her chocolate-kiss colored eyes. My heart skips a beat, and I know I can’t leave without answering her question. “Until you, Blake.” Then I cup her cheek; she leans into it. I kiss her tenderly and whisper against her mouth. “If I’m lucky enough, you’ll let me be your first, as you’ll be mine.”
Blake leans her back against the door like it’s the only thing preventing her from falling. There are so many things I want to say and share with her. But I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable or pressured. I know, when the time eventually comes, it’ll be the most beautiful thing that’ll happen between us.
“Bad timing, huh?” Hope says behind us as she falls onto the sofa.
“The worst,” Blake replies, grinning widely.
“Arrgh.” She puts her hands up. “Spare me the details. I think I hear enough gag-worthy yapping from him . . .” She points to me and curls her mouth up in disgust. “Oh, Blake this, Blake that. Blah. Blah. Blah.” She tries to mimic my deep voice.
I laugh, my eyes quickly turning to Blake. She smiles shyly, pink coloring her cheeks and neck.
“Trust me, you two waiting to seal your contract is a good thing. You’ll thank me for this interruption in the future.”
“You sure about that, dolphin?” I smirk.
“I know that neither of you wants to lose your virginity when you’re so high on emotions.”
Blake is quick to respond. “We aren’t—”
“Oh, puh-lease. Don’t insult me,” she says. “Just promise to name your firstborn Hope, and we’ll call it even. I mean, that’s the least you can do, seeing how it was my scheming and pushing that got you guys together and has you fawning all over each other.”
I throw a glance at Blake and laugh.
She shakes her head. “Hope, your modesty will make the Dalai Lama shrink in embarrassment.”
Hope waves her hand dismissively. “Whatever. I’m an awesome matchmaker.” She winks. “And now, you,” she points to me, “out. And you,” she says, pointing to Blake. “Time to get ready for Senior Prom.”
“OW,” I YELP, startled by the sudden contraction. I gasp, trying to breathe through the pain, holding on to my lower abdomen. Hudson runs to my side, dropping the glass of ice chips in the process.
“Blake . . .” His voice is pained.
I try not to think about him, or the contraction, or anything else.
Breathe. Just breathe.
“Baby,” he says again.
I shake my head, grimacing, my lower body in the worst possible pain I can imagine. “I think she’s coming,” I grunt. Everything in me hurts. My legs shake, and my breathing is unnaturally stuck in my lungs.
I hear Mom’s worried voice nearby. But I can’t be sure. She’s saying something about getting help?
“Nurse! NURSE!” Hudson’s voice fills the air around us with fear. He may have worked in the ER for years, and seen people suffer through unbelievable trauma, but seeing me this weak and in pain . . . I don’t think he ever thought he’d go through that again.
“Ahhhh!” Another scream bursts through.
“Breathe, baby. Breathe.”
I squeeze his hand so tightly that my fingers feel cold. But he’s doesn’t let go, or even flinch, though I’m sure it has to hurt. The previously dimmed room suddenly turns bright and full of energy. Another contraction hits me, and I don’t even try to hold back the scream.
Cold air blasts the nether regions of my body, but I don’t care. I need Sparkler out. Now. “I’m going to kill you, golden bo-yyyyy!” I end up yelling his name as another round of contractions takes over.
Hudson pulls himself closer, his lips pressed hard against my forehead. “You make it through this, firecracker, and you can light me on fire.”
I feel my body relax as the contraction leaves and pant. Sweat pours down from my forehead.
Dr. Bratz, my OB-GYN, looks up from under the sheet that somewhat covers me. She rolls the cloth higher, up to my knees.
That’s when I notice it’s not just Hudson, Mom, and me anymore. Instead of Mom, there are five other people standing at the end of the bed, looking at my exposed lady bits. But I don’t have enough energy to even attempt to close my thighs. Modesty be damned.
“You’re ready, Blake. I can see the baby’s crown.”
“But . . .” I try to make sense of that. The last time I was checked, not thirty minutes ago, I still had some ways to go. And now—
“She’s ready, sweetheart,” Dr. Bratz says gently, touching my knee before she takes a seat in front of me. “Remember everything we talked through? Your birthing lessons?”
I nod, fear slowly creeping through every pore of my being.
“Now it’s all you.”
I look to Hudson. His eyes are on me, his brow furrowed with worry. He nods. “You can do this, baby. Bring our princess home.”
I smile. He finally said “princess.” Not Sparkler, or them . . . princess. “You believe me?”
“I’d never bet against you, firecracker.”
“Push, Blake. Push,” Dr. Bratz instructs. I do, but I make little to no progress. An hour and twenty minutes pass like that, and I’m exhausted.
“Come on, Blake. She’s sooo close,” Dr. Bratz says.
I start crying. I feel like shit. “I can’t. I can’t,” I sob. “I can’t do this.”
“I know it’s painful. Believe me, I’ve been there. Three times, actually,” Dr. Bratz says. “But you have to. Just push through the pain. I know it seems impossible, but I promise, it’ll all be worth it.”
“I—”
“Think about holding your baby in your arms, take a deep breath, and give me one really big push.”
Hudson runs his fingers over my forehead and kisses me again. He squeezes my hand with the hand I’m certain I’ve mushed to pulp by now. “Come on, baby. You can do this. She’s almost here.”
“What’s going on?”
“Blake,” Dr. Bratz says, very gently. Calmly. Too Calmly. “The baby is starting to lose oxygen. We need her out, now. Come on, sweetheart. If you don’t do this, we could lose her.”
“What?” Panic rises inside me. “Nononononono.” Tears brim my eyes, and I fight hard not to cry. But it’s no use. I’m going to lose our baby. After all this time.
“Look at me, Blake,” Hudson says. His eyes bore into mine. “I know this is hard. I wish I could take this all away from you. I really do. But, baby, I can’t. You’re it. And I know you can do it.”
A small cry escapes me as I shake my head.
“Don’t be afraid,” he says.
I press my lips together and nod. I take a deep breath and feel the pain coiling inside me. Tears fall freely, and I push with every last ounce of strength I have, screaming at the top of my lungs. Hudson pulls himself toward me. His forehead presses against mine, but his eyes are wide open. Fear. Awe. Love.
His lips move, but I can’t hear him over my own screams. Then . . . then . . . a feeling of blissful emptiness fills me.
I hear Dr. Bratz say, “You did it. Nice job, Blake. You did it, sweetheart.”
I fall back, sobbing into Hudson. He hasn’t let go of me. I finally hear him: “I love you. I love you so fucking much.” And then he’s kissing me. My forehead, my eyes, my cheeks, and finally, my lips.
“I love you, Hudson,” I say, flashing on the very first time I said those same words to him . . .
“READY?” HOPE ASKS, twirling her keys around her fingers.
I arch an eyebrow. “For what?”
“To get ready for Prom.” She scowls, like she can’t believe I could be so dense. I knew what she was talking about, but it’s still fun to mess with her.
I check my watch. “We have like three hours.”
“Oh, shit.” She shoots up and hurries to the door, pulling it wide open. “We need to get moving.”
When she sees me still lounging on the couch, she comes back and pulls me up by my arm.
“Time’s wasting,” she says, dragging me toward the door. “If I time this right, though, we should be in and out of the spa and ready before Hudson gets here.”
I roll my eyes, but allow her to lead me out of my house and toward her Porsche.
Once buckled in, she peels out of the parking space. I shoot her a concerned look, but she doesn’t notice. As she pulls into traffic, she asks, “So, did you guys make any plans for tonight?”
“Tonight?” I don’t particularly want to know why she’s emphasizing “plans,” though I’m pretty sure I have a good idea what she means.
“Ah, yeah. Tonight. Senior Prom. You know, the night of lost innocence and all that.”
Heat assaults me. Hudson’s request about wanting to be my first, and me his, springs to mind.
“So, have you?” Hope pushes for a response.
“I thought you didn’t want to know the details.”
She turns her head to me and rolls her eyes. “I don’t want to hear any from him. He’s a guy. But you’re my only girl friend, and I want to experience this part of female friendship, where we actually talk about boys and sex and how it is.”
I open my mouth to point out this will still be about her best friend, but she cuts me off.
“I’ll pretend it’s some really hot dude you’re dating and not Hudson.” She throws a quick glance at me, her eyes wild with excitement. “So. Are you going to give it up? Are you ready to give it up?”
I laugh nervously. “I don’t—”
“Maybe if I share something from my experience—”
“Uh, no!” I blurt. I’m so in over my head.
“Really, I don’t mind sharing.”
“No? I’d never have guessed,” I mutter under my breath, watching the scenery fly past my window. I’ve learned to love Hope for all her pushy, loving self. Even though I don’t agree with the way she obsesses over things, I admire her spirit. But that doesn’t mean I’m ready to divulge my deepest secrets, even if she is. Nope. I am so not!
“Come on, Blake. You know I won’t give in until I get what I want.”
She can say that again. I sigh. “No. We haven’t even talked about it.” Yet. Well, sorta, I guess, but not enough that Hope will be satisfied.
Her eyes grow big. “Why not?”
I shrug. “It just hasn’t come up.”
“You know a lot of the boys are booking rooms after Prom, right?”
I fidget with my fingers in my lap. They are? Would Hudson?
“What if he wants to do it?”
What if he does? Is that what his comment earlier meant, about being my first? Is that his way of hinting what he hopes will happen tonight?
Suddenly, I’m feeling super nervous.
“I’m sure he’s thinking about it,” Hope continues, not even noticing my discomfort, her eyes glued to the road.
“Hope.” I really don’t like where this is heading.
She hitches one of her shoulders up and finally glances at me. “What? I’m just asking what you’d do.” She slows to turn a corner, the Porsche’s blinker clicking through the silence like the countdown on a bomb.
Honestly, I don’t know what I’d do. I want to, definitely. But am I ready? I’m not sure. I watch a strip mall pass by outside, worrying my lip in silence as I think.
“Do you like him, Blake?”
I shrug. “I do.”
“Do you love him?”
I pause. Yes? Maybe? “I know I feel something for him that I’ve never felt for anyone,” I say carefully. “Hudson’s different.”
Hope throws a smile toward me. “He is, isn’t he?”
I nod. Hudson is different. He’s respectful of me, of our relationship. He’s willing to go any lengths to keep me safe. He’s everything I’ve wanted and nothing like the other men in my life. He makes me feel beautiful, makes my heart smile, and makes me experience feelings I’ve never given a second thought to before.
Realization dawns. Hope’s right. I’m in love with Hudson.
She pulls into a parking lot and parks the car. When she opens the door and slides out, I’m still seated, stunned by my revelation.
I’m in love with Hudson Lovelly. And for the first time, I don’t fear the feeling. I welcome it with an open heart.
“You coming?” Hope asks, pulling her door open again and peering in, her eyebrow raised in question.
I look at her and nod, a wide smile spreading across my face.
THIRTY MINUTES AFTER Hope boots me out of Blake’s house, I park Jags in my driveway. Getting out, I slam the door shut and pull my phone from my jacket pocket. Once inside, I shoot past the kitchen and head for the stairs, taking them two at a time as I scroll through my contact list. I find Detective Sanders and press the “call” button just as I enter my room, shutting the door behind me. After the third ring, he finally answers.
“Sanders,” he states. I’m not sure if it’s a greeting or an announcement.
“Hi, Detective. This is Hudson Lovelly. I’m not sure if you remember me, but you worked on a case for my dad two years ago.”
“Yes. Of course. How can I help you, Mr. Lovelly?”
“Well, I was hoping you might be willing to do me a favor and look into someone for me?” I say, pulling out my tux and a red tie to match Blake’s dress. I lay it on the bed and turn around, walking toward the window.
“Oh?” It’s a tone of surprise and curiosity.
“Yeah . . . Trey Jenkins. He’s a real scumbag.”
There’s a pause on the other end. “Should your father be informed of the outcome, Mr. Lovelly?”
“No.” I fold my left hand under my right elbow, propping up the
phone while I stare blankly out at the pool and guest house a few yards away. “It’s a . . . personal case. But you’ll be compensated well.”
“I’m listening,” he says.
So I dive into the details about Trey, Vicki, and her stepfather. Thirty minutes later, Detective Sanders hangs up the phone with assurances that this is an open and shut case. He’s certain, with the criminal record he’s already found on the guy, that he’ll be able to nail Trey in no time. “A week, tops,” he’d said.
This will work. Just a week. One week, and then Blake and Vicki will be safe.
Throwing my phone on the bed, I head into the shower to get ready for Prom. Twenty minutes later, I step out and wrap a towel around my waist, heading into my bedroom, excitement humming through me. I’m suited up and ready to go in another fifteen minutes. I have yet to see Blake’s dress, but I know, no matter what, she’ll be beautiful.
I adjust my tie, staring at myself in the mirror. Stay cool, Hudson. It’s just Prom. No big deal. I pull the ends of my jacket, making sure everything’s in place. If I leave now, I’ll be an hour early. But the anticipation of wanting to see her is enough for me to make up my mind. Worse case scenario, I’ll wait. At her place.
I pick up the corsage—made with yellow and red flowers—and exit my room.
“Hudson,” Dad calls, just as I enter the kitchen.
I groan internally, but put a smile on my face. Heath’s drinking his nightly glass of milk in the breakfast nook, while Harrington’s loading the dishwasher. Dad’s sitting across from Heath, his hands on the table, fingers laced together.
“I hear tonight is a big night.”
I nod. “Senior Prom.”
He pushes up from his seat and walks around it. “Follow me,” he says, not waiting to see if I heed his command. Why would he? I always follow orders. He’s made sure of that.
Once we enter his office, he turns around to face me. His arms are crossed over his chest, and he eyes the corsage in my hand. “For Hope?”
Is he really playing this game with me? “No. Not for Hope.”
His lips thin. “So it is true.”
